John Miller - The First Assassin

Davis and Stephens said nothing. Clark took a seat at a nearby table, with his back to this conversation, and opened a copy of the National Intelligencer .

“Well, it hardly matters where you’re from exactly,” continued Rook. “I’m just interested in where you’re from generally. There aren’t many Southerners arriving here nowadays. There are even fewer calling themselves Jeff Davis and Alex Stephens.”

Davis raised an eyebrow. Rook sensed an opening.

“Gentlemen, it does not take a genius to read a hotel registry,” said Rook. He smiled again and took a small palmetto brocade from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Understand something. The number of people who think the way we do dwindles by the hour around here. Guests check out of Brown’s these days, rather than check in. So your arrival is conspicuous. Most of those of us who remain behind are planning to get out soon. In my case, I must attend to some unfinished business.”

Rook reached into his pocket again and pulled out the Brady photo of Lincoln. He put it on the table beside the brocade and made sure both Davis and Stephens saw what it was. Then he took the pin of the brocade and stabbed it into Lincoln’s face. He twisted it around, carving a small hole where Lincoln’s head had been. Rook let the brocade and defaced photo lie before Davis and Stephens for a moment. When he thought they had taken a good look, he collected both items and returned them to his pocket.

“As I said, I must attend to some unfinished business,” said Rook. He was pleased to see that Davis and Stephens had dropped their threatening looks. Rook leaned into the table and spoke in a hushed voice. “And I’m always on the lookout for new business opportunities.”

Stephens glanced at Davis, in a clear sign of deference. The big man did not budge. He still stared at the table, looking at the place where the defaced photo had rested. Finally his eyes moved to Rook.

“I appreciate the invitation, Mr.-?”

“Bishop,” replied Rook.

“Mr. Bishop. Very well. I wish you every success, Mr. Bishop. I really do. But it appears as though we are working toward different ends, despite our shared sympathies. You have your intentions, and I have mine.”

“What better intention could you have than this imposter who calls himself president?”

“I didn’t say I had a better intention, just a different one. We may serve our interests best simply by staying out of each other’s way.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” said Rook. “If one of us succeeds, the other surely will find his task much more challenging. Security is weak across the city, but it won’t stay that way forever. Your hints intrigue me, Mr. Davis. They raise an important question: should one of us assist the other? I am native to this city and have resources at my disposal that you may find invaluable.”

Davis tapped a finger on the table. “I will consider your offer,” he said at last. “But it is too early for anything more. I’m waiting for a shipment to arrive, and it won’t get here until the morning. Meet me in this place tomorrow evening. Perhaps we can talk in some detail then.”

“If you need help on the Potomac docks with unloading a shipment, I can gather some men-”

Davis chuckled. “No, the shipment will not arrive by the river.”

“Then at the train depot-”

Now Davis laughed, and Stephens with him. “Mr. Bishop, the shipment will not arrive by river, and it will not arrive by rail. Or even by road. Let’s leave it at that. I do not seek your assistance with the shipment. Not now, anyway. We can meet again tomorrow night. Good day, sir.”

Rook nodded and rose from his chair. He walked straight for the door and was gone from the hotel within a few seconds. Davis and Stephens watched him depart.

“I thought we were going to be gone by tomorrow night,” said Stephens. “I hope you don’t mean to change our plans.”

“Of course not. I suspect Bishop himself may not even make the meeting we’ve just arranged. There will be so much commotion in this city tomorrow night, nothing will go as intended. If Bishop is smart, he will realize what has happened and who is responsible. He can show up here if he wants, but he’ll wait a long time before he sees either of us again. We’ll be miles away, and Washington will be gripped by terror.”

A few feet away, Clark continued to stare at the pages of his newspaper. He heard every word.

“Sally, what would you like to discuss?” asked Bennett.

“It’s about my son, Joe. He’s the one everybody calls Big Joe.”

“Of course,” said Bennett, his interest suddenly aroused. “I know Big Joe. He is a fine young man, with a solid reputation around here. Mr. Tate praises him quite highly.”

“He’s very good, Mr. Bennett. Even when he was a little boy, he was very good, always listenin’ to his mother. He never gave me any trouble. Never! You don’t always see that around here.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t think of a single time Joe has given us any difficulty. I must say, though, there have been some questions raised about him this very day.”

Sally broke eye contact with Bennett. She had been looking straight at him, but now she gazed at the ground.

“Mr. Bennett, I don’t want you to hurt him.”

“Is there something I should know?”

Her eyes were back on him, and Bennett saw that they had started to fill with tears.

“Mr. Bennett, please tell me you ain’t gonna hurt him.”

“Oh, Sally,” said Bennett, trying to achieve a comforting tone in his voice. He put his arm around her. “I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I don’t think I can promise anything until you tell me what you know.”

“Maybe there’s one thing you can promise me,” she said as she pulled up her apron and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Please don’t do to him what you did to Sammy last fall. You remember Sammy? He’s Roberta’s boy.”

Bennett had to think for a moment. He did recall Sammy-a real troublemaker who required the constant attention of an overseer before he would do any work. It was quite a shame too, because Sammy was a strong one who might have made a contribution to the farm if only he had put his mind to it. But when he ran off and hid in the woods last year-and then Tate caught him two weeks later stealing chickens from one of the coops, after several had already disappeared-that was the end of it. Bennett ordered him put up for auction. Sammy was sold to a buyer from Georgia for a bit less than what Bennett thought he should have gotten, but he was glad to be rid of the problem. Attitudes like Sammy’s had a way of spreading like a contagious disease if they were not confronted, he believed. Sometimes a plantation master must set a clear example, even at the cost of breaking up families.

“Yes, I do remember Sammy,” said Bennett, at last.

“Please tell me you won’t sell Joe! It just broke Roberta’s heart when Sammy left. I don’t know how I could go on if Joe were to leave.”

“It sounds to me as though he may have left already.”

“Yes,” sniffled Sally. “I do believe he has.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

“Oh, Mr. Bennett, I just want him back. Please just bring him back to me. I promise you, I’ll give him a good, hard talking to the way only his mother can! He won’t leave again! Please just bring him back and tell me you won’t sell him off!”

She was sobbing now, and Bennett gave her a moment to collect herself.

“Sally, don’t worry about Joe getting sold. Sammy’s situation was very different from Joe’s. I’ll be honest with you. When we get Joe back, we’re going to have to deal with him in some fashion. I don’t know what that will be. It will depend on what happens between now and then. It may also depend on how much you cooperate with us. The fact that you are speaking to me right now, however, is a great comfort. I want to get Joe back too. In all my years of running this plantation, I have learned one thing about runaways-they’re best caught early. The longer they stay missing, the harder they are to find. So it’s important to get started on this immediately. Perhaps you can help me figure out where he’s headed. I received a report this morning that he might be going to the Wilson farm. Does he know anybody there? Maybe there’s a girl he wants to see. He’s at that age, you know.”