David Liss - The Whiskey Rebel

“What are you doing here in my home?” His voice was calm; perhaps that was what made me so easy.

I stood. “I beg your pardon. I do not mean to disturb your domestic peace. I should never have troubled you if it were not important-if someone’s convenience other than my own were not at issue.”

He appeared to give the matter some thought. He took another step toward me and sniffed like a beast. “You haven’t been drinking. Have you at last reformed?”

“I suppose I have. It is amazing how people can change for the better.”

“I’ll not believe it.”

“Leonidas, I know you are angry with me, and if I cannot truly understand the depth of your anger, it is only because I cannot know what you have known. I shall not attempt to justify my actions or place them in context, to help you see what justice must: that on balance I have treated you well, and better than you could have hoped for from another.”

“How dare you-”

I held up my hand. “I do not care to hear it. Not because it is just or unjust, but because Cynthia Pearson is in danger, and I need your help. Her husband has absconded with her and her children, and no one knows where. I had hoped you might inquire among the servants and see if you might learn what others cannot.”

“You come to me for a favor? I want nothing from you.”

“Can you not recognize a plea not for myself but for a woman’s life and for the life of her children? You would hold a grudge against the life of two children?”

“Leonidas,” his wife said softly. “You must not be stubborn to the point of cruelty. You need not like him to help him in this.”

“I will not have him stand here and pretend his motives are something other than selfishness. He claims to want to help others, but it is only desire that motivates him.” To me he said, “What are the names of these children?”

It was true that I did not know, but I saw no need to demonstrate that he had so successfully taken my measure. “Julia and Dennis,” I said, very quickly too.

Leonidas said nothing for several long moments. Then, finally, he nodded. “If I can learn anything, I shall let you know.”

I stepped forward with my hand out. “You are a good man. I knew I could depend upon you.”

He only stared at my hand. “It does not mean we are friends. It only means I will not let others suffer because you have earned my enmity.”

I sniffed. “Right. Well, thank you, even so.”

“If I have more to say to you, I will go to you. You are not to return to my home. Not under any circumstances. Now leave.”

The two of them followed me to the door, as though I could not be trusted to find it, or to leave without helping myself to some of their goods on the way. Leonidas opened the door. I stepped through and turned, removing my hat and bowing.

The lady of the house met my eye, daring me to turn away. “I do not find Spenser at all dull,” she said.

Her husband slammed the door.

Hamilton had not brought me into government service, not really, but here I was, speaking to him, to Washington, working alongside his principal spy. I could not ignore what I knew, and I could not leave him to his own peril.

That being the case, the next day I rose early, just after nine in the morning, dressed myself neatly, and strolled to the Treasury offices on Third, where I casually asked to have an audience with the Secretary. He saw me almost immediately, and I took a seat across from him in his small spare office.

“How can I help you this time, Captain?”

I coughed into my fist. “I wonder if there has been any progress in your dealings with Duer.”

He leaned back in his seat. “When this matter is resolved, I want you to come see me. I wish for you to work with Lavien, if you think you can do so. You’ve proved your worth to me, and you seem to have mastered yourself considerably. This is the second time you’ve been here without the stench of drink upon you.”

“I am flattered, and you may depend upon me, but why must we wait?”

“Because at the moment there is nothing for you to do-either for you or Mr. Lavien. I am in touch with my men in New York, and I know what Duer plans. He is still attempting to control the six percents; he is still borrowing dangerously. And he is about to learn that we have begun proceedings against him for the money he embezzled while upon the Board of Treasury. The word will spread-on its own or with our help-and it is but a matter of weeks, perhaps only days, until Duer collapses and the bank is safe. You have played no small role in this, Captain, and I am grateful. You may be certain I will do all I can, in addition to offering you employment, to make certain the world knows you and Fleet were falsely maligned those many years ago.”

“Lavien told you.”

“He did.”

“If all this is true, why do you keep me at arm’s length now?”

“You are of no use to me,” he said. “I cannot depend on you.”

I tried hard not to show my anger. Or was it my shame? “What do you mean?”

“I mean you ask about Duer because you are interested and involved, but it is not what is upon your mind. You want to find Pearson, the man who destroyed you, killed your friend, and stole the woman you loved. You want to find his much-abused wife and children. The Revolution is won, and while I don’t doubt your patriotism, I do not expect you would be able to put any assignment I might give you before your duty to Mrs. Pearson. Find her, bring her to safety, and then you may come work with me.”

I stood up and bowed. “I see you are a man who understands the human heart.” I returned to my seat.

He turned away. “When it comes to our passions, we do as we must.”

I coughed again. “It is upon that subject that I have come, in part, to see you. I’ve spoken to no one, and to my knowledge I am the only other person who knows about this. I say this first to spare you the pain of asking. I must advise you to end your liaison with Maria Reynolds. Her husband is closely connected with Duer. I do not know that your dealings with his wife have any bearing on these other matters, but I need not tell you that this is a powder keg that could explode in your face.”

He remained still for a moment. “How did you learn of this?”

“I followed you.”

His face turned dark at once. His fists clenched and unclenched like a baby’s. “You followed me?”

“Colonel, Reynolds was waiting outside your office. My man had already seen you giving him money. I had to know the connection.”

He nodded. “He discovered my intimacy with the lady several months ago and has been allowing it to continue in exchange for money, money I truly don’t have. It has been a nightmare, but I know not what to do about it. He presses me whether I see Maria or not.”

“And so you might as well see her.”

“To be blunt,” said Hamilton, “I am not entirely certain that she did not begin to attract my attention with this scheme in mind. She is very beautiful.”

“I have seen her.”

“Then you know. She is lovely, but flighty and inconstant and-well, not particularly clever. Yet I cannot help myself. I vow never to see her more, yet I return.”

“When it comes to our passions,” I said, “we do as we must.”

This time he met my gaze. His stare was raw with shame.

“Yet in this case you must not,” I said. “If Jefferson or his minions were to learn of this, it would destroy you. They would destroy you. They would never believe-or they would pretend never to believe-that this is a mere personal impropriety, but portray it as evidence of a larger corruption. You must vow never to see her again.”

He said nothing, but I knew he understood. I expected to feel some satisfaction in standing upon the moral high ground with Hamilton, but all I felt was sympathy and something not entirely unlike friendship.