David Liss - The Whiskey Rebel

“You’ve got to give Richmond something to do,” he said. “He will go mad, and he will drive me mad. He’s always been more beast than man. Not in the brutal way we often use the term, but he is meant for doing and action, for being outdoors and finding his own food. Sitting about in a house all day attempting to draw no attention to himself is no life for him.”

“We may need him yet,” I said, “though I pray God no. If things come to a crisis, we’ll be glad of him, and he’ll be glad to be of use. It cannot be helped that he is too uneasy to wait quietly for that moment. You seem to have no complaints, John.”

“‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’” he quoted, “and cook dinner and clean the house.” He attempted a smile.

I sipped my wine and closed my eyes. Behind me the fire burned; I loved the feel of the heat on my neck. I had been in a carriage all the day before, and now to be upon a comfortable sofa with a glass of wine seemed the height of luxury.

I was able to enjoy my peace only a moment, however, before the door flew open hard and loud. I leaped up, knowing not what to expect, but fearing either we had been discovered by Duer for what we were or that Richmond was back, somehow more angry than before.

The door was now open. The wind stirred up the fire, sending it into a rage, and snow blew into the front room. Dalton stood in the doorway, looking massive and vibrant. A huge grin broke out under his red mustaches. “I was hoping you’d be back, girl. We’ve got some good things brewing.”

“What is it?” Skye walked toward Dalton, for no other reason, I believed, than because it gave him something to do, something unrelated to his awkward conversation with me.

“It’s that Saunders fellow,” he said. “He’s hooked for certain now.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“You know that Pearson’s fled town?” Recollecting himself, he shut the door and then walked over to the calming fire to warm his hands.

“I saw him in New York,” I said. “He’s hiding from creditors.”

Dalton nodded. “His wife suspects something. She sent a note to Saunders.”

I felt something spring to life inside me. “What sort of note?”

“Now, how would I know the answer to that?” he asked.

“Get it,” I said. “Go to his boardinghouse, and if he isn’t home yet, get it. Pay the landlady what you must to give it to you and keep her mouth shut. Promise her more each week she helps us. She’ll not betray us if she thinks there’s more money to be had.”

“Why do you want to delay him?” Skye asked. “He’ll find out in the end.”

“That’s precisely why.” To Dalton I said, “When you pay the landlady, give your name as Reynolds. Make sure she hears the name and knows it. When Saunders finds out, as he must, he will begin to look to Duer.”

Dalton sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Joan. If Saunders stops Duer too soon, it’s all for nothing.”

“We need to make sure we can hobble Duer when we need to, so we’ll set Saunders to sniffing around, but after the wrong things. It will make Duer uneasy and more eager to trust me. We had been thinking of using Saunders only to keep Duer from growing too powerful too quickly, but now I see he can be much more than that. Through Saunders we can manipulate Hamilton. We can make certain he learns nothing before we are ready, and everything when we wish it.”

The two men left, and I was alone in the house, suddenly feeling content and at ease. I could not say why, precisely, but I felt certain that all was now in hand, or soon would be.

Iwas on my own. So be it. I have worked alone in the past and I would do so again. Alone I would prevent William Duer from taking control of the Million Bank. I would have to remove from the game six men in the space of one morning, and to do that I would need to learn who they were, where they lived, and the nature of their personal arrangements. It would be difficult but eminently possible.

I began to go through Freneau’s papers anew. Freneau had taken detailed and useful notes regarding Duer’s scheme with the Million Bank. It was not clear to me why Freneau had not yet revealed his discovery to the public, and I could only conclude that rather than save the nation from a dangerous financial collapse, he would much prefer to see that collapse transpire. With Hamilton humiliated, Freneau would then be in a position to explain it. Fortunately, however, I was in a position to prevent that collapse from taking place. The key lay in Duer’s agents, and I studied Freneau’s papers to learn what I could of them, including their names and where they lived. I gleaned a little more from a few of the letters-this one was unmarried and lived alone, that one had a wife and two children. They were small details, but they might make all the difference.

Time not passed in discovering the details of Duer’s agents I spent in the Merchants’ Coffeehouse, where the air trembled with expectation-in part, I own, through my own machinations, for I never failed, when given the opportunity, to whisper that the Million Bank launch was imminent and that William Duer himself thought it the best investment of the season. Though cooler heads still regarded the new bank as a foolish venture, destined for failure, there were a number of traders-some of them clearly new to the world of speculation-being drawn into a bancomania.

At each turn, I congratulated myself that I did so well on my own. I’d had Leonidas with me almost the entire span of my disgrace and had regarded him as indispensable. I was not quite prepared to say I was better off without him, but I did well enough. I was lonely, yes, and I hated, truly hated, that I had no one with whom to share my thoughts, but I managed.

Duer did not show himself at Merchants’, and I saw no sign of Reynolds or Pearson, but Whippo did his job as he moved from table to table, predicting gloom for the Million Bank and attempting-unsuccessfully, I thought-to undo the damage I did by speaking constantly of Duer’s enthusiasm.

It was not the only time I saw Whippo. I was down by the docks, returning to my room after researching the address of one of Duer’s men, when I observed him from a fair distance speaking in animated terms to a grocer. I watched while the grocer shook his head. Whippo spoke some more and the grocer shook his head once more. Whippo’s color rose; he waved his hand excitedly as he spoke. This time the grocer nodded and then grinned, the way a man does when he achieves some small victory over a social superior. He disappeared into his shop and returned a moment later with a purse, which he gave to Whippo. In return, Whippo handed the grocer several small pieces of paper. They shook hands, and Whippo wandered off.

I then approached the grocer and introduced myself rather vaguely, but inquired immediately of his business with Whippo.

“What?” the grocer asked. “You want a bit for yourself?”

“A bit of what?”

“The loans. That fellow’s master, Duer, is borrowing at six percent.”

“It is a fair rate, but nothing to get overly excited about,” I said.

“Six percent per week.”

The very notion was absurd-it was as though Duer was giving money away-and I could not think what it meant.

I left the grocer immediately and headed toward Fraunces Tavern, but my path was blocked. There, before me, was the cadaverous form of Isaac Whippo. He stood with legs apart, his sunken chest thrust outward and his head back. He glared at me as though he had some hope of intimidating me. And perhaps this time he did, for my good Mr. Whippo was not alone. By his side stood a rough-looking fellow, broad in the shoulder, uncouth in manner. It was James Reynolds, who looked at me with a very unsavory expression.