D. Jackson - Dead Man's reach

“That’s enough, James,” Adams said, casting a quick look toward his friend. He shifted his gaze to Warren and nodded once.

The doctor approached Otis and spoke to him in a low voice. Ethan could not make out what was said, but after a moment the two men left the room.

“You do seem to have a knack for angering James,” Adams said, staring after them.

“I assure you, sir, it’s not my intention.”

Adams faced him. “I believe you, Mister Kaille. James is not a well man.” He took a breath. “The fact is, the soldiers were provoked. I don’t condone their use of firearms-I want to be perfectly clear about that. Moreover, I do not believe that armed soldiers should have been in Boston at all. Ultimately responsibility for this … massacre rests with those who garrisoned those men here in the first place. What happened the other night was both tragic and utterly predictable. The soldiers were provoked, and they in turn provoked that mob. Their mere presence here is a provocation.”

“I understand that they are to leave.”

“Yes,” Adams said. “I hesitate to claim that any good can come of such terrible events, but they’ll be sent to Castle William, and that is a small blessing.”

“Yes, sir. As to the conjurer, I feel that I must emphasize the importance of his role in what occurred. If those soldiers are to be charged with murder, as I hear some of them will, I must bring this information to the attention of the proper authorities.”

“Of course you must, Mister Kaille. But you’re speaking to the wrong man.”

“Well, sir, I expect that you’ll be advocating for their punishment.”

“No, I won’t. I intend to play no role in their trial. I’m well known as a champion of liberty. Any part I play in the legal proceedings will distract attention not only from the actions of the soldiers, but also from the ill-conceived policies that lay at the root of these events.”

“I see,” Ethan said. “Well, I had planned to speak with the lieutenant governor as well. Perhaps I should see him now.”

Adams smiled. “When I said that you were speaking to the wrong man, I didn’t mean Hutchinson. Perhaps I should have said that you’re speaking to the wrong Adams.”

Ethan frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“My cousin, John Adams, has consented to represent in court Captain Preston and the soldiers he commanded.”

Ethan had no idea what to say.

“You’re surprised.”

“To say the least, sir. Do you approve?”

“My approval or disapproval is of little consequence, but yes, I do. John is a man of great integrity. The soldiers will get a fair hearing, and in so doing may convince those who doubt our motives and tactics that we believe in justice for all, foe and friend alike. My point, though, is that of all people, John most needs to know of this conjurer and his role in the shootings.”

“I’ve never met Mister Adams.”

“With that, I can help you.” Adams stepped to a desk against the near wall of the small room. He found a piece of parchment, dipped a quill in a well of ink, and penned a short missive. He then folded the parchment and placed it in an envelope, which he sealed with wax. “Here you are, Mister Kaille. Present this to John when you see him. He will speak with you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Ethan crossed to the door.

“Do I dare even ask if you’re now ready to join us?” Adams asked before Ethan could let himself out of the room.

“I think I may be, sir.”

Adams looked every bit as amazed as Kannice had the night before. “Because of what happened on King Street?” he asked.

Ethan shook his head. “Because of the woman I mentioned the last time we spoke.”

Adams was still laughing when Ethan pulled the door shut.

The law office of John Adams stood on Queen Street, directly across from the gaol and the Court House, and adjacent to Murray’s Barracks. Ethan had no desire to go anywhere near the soldiers’ quarters, but he had little choice in the matter.

Upon entering the office, he was greeted by a young, well-dressed man who introduced himself as William Tudor. When Ethan requested a word with Mr. Adams, the young attorney demurred.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come back another time. Mister Adams is quite busy at the moment.”

“I’ve no doubt that he is,” Ethan said, pulling the envelope from the pocket of his greatcoat. “But I carry a letter of introduction from his cousin, Mister Samuel Adams. I believe Mister Adams will wish to speak with me.”

He handed the missive to Tudor, who took it into a second chamber, off the main room. As Ethan expected, he soon returned.

“Mister Adams will see you, Mister Kaille.”

Tudor held the door open as Ethan entered this smaller chamber, and then closed it, leaving Ethan alone with the gentleman standing at a polished wood desk.

John Adams bore little resemblance to his cousin. Where Samuel was handsome, even a bit dashing, John was odd in appearance. He was several inches shorter than Ethan and portly, with a weak chin and dark eyebrows over expressive hazel eyes. He wore a gray wig, and a black silk suit.

He greeted Ethan solemnly and indicated a pair of chairs beside the hearth.

They both sat.

Adams held up the message from his cousin. “Samuel informs me that you have information pertaining to the recent events on King Street.” He spoke in a strong, rich baritone that belied his undistinguished appearance.

“Yes, sir.”

“He also indicates that I am to accept as truth whatever you tell me, no matter how fanciful, even preposterous, it might sound.”

Ethan smiled, silently thanking Samuel Adams for his foresight. “Aye, sir. What I have to say may well seem to stretch the bounds of credulity.” Speaking slowly, his voice low, Ethan then explained all that had happened in the past fortnight, beginning with the shooting of Christopher Seider.

Long after Ethan had finished, Adams remained silent, his eyes fixed on the fire. When at last he stirred and regarded Ethan, it was with the same even expression he had maintained since Ethan’s arrival.

“You tell a most remarkable tale, Mister Kaille.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Am I to assume then that you believe Captain Preston and the men under his command should be acquitted?”

“I’m neither a lawyer nor a judge, sir. And I have no idea if what I’ve related to you can even be spoken of in a court of law. But I thought that you should know.”

“I’m grateful to you. It may be that I will need to call on you before the trial; perhaps even during it. But to be honest I have every confidence that these men will be acquitted, even if I never mention witchery and conjurings.”

“You do?” Ethan said, unable to mask his surprise.

“That surprises you. I suppose that’s to be expected. But already I have spoken with many who were there that night. These men were abused most foully. They were taunted and insulted, pelted with snowballs and rocks. A club was thrown at them. Many of those in the mob shouted for the men to fire. Most in Boston would like to see them convicted; I know this. And there can be no doubt that by their actions, they caused the deaths of four men. But facts are stubborn things, and the facts tell us that these men acted out of fear for their own safety. Who among us would have behaved differently?”

Ethan had heard men speak of the brilliance of John Adams, but until then he had not understood fully what they meant. An hour before, he would have wagered every pence he had that Preston and the others would be found guilty. No longer.

“I fear I’ve wasted your time, sir,” he said, getting to his feet. “You require no aid from me.”