David Liss - The Whiskey Rebel

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David Liss's bestselling historical thrillers, including A Conspiracy of Paper and The Coffee Trader, have been called remarkable and rousing: the perfect combination of scrupulous research and breathless excitement. Now Liss delivers his best novel yet in an entirely new setting – America in the years after the Revolution, an unstable nation where desperate schemers vie for wealth, power, and a chance to shape a country's destiny.
Ethan Saunders, once among General Washington's most valued spies, now lives in disgrace, haunting the taverns of Philadelphia. An accusation of treason has long since cost him his reputation and his beloved fiancée, Cynthia Pearson, but at his most desperate moment he is recruited for an unlikely task – finding Cynthia's missing husband. To help her, Saunders must serve his old enemy, Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton, who is engaged in a bitter power struggle with political rival Thomas Jefferson over the fragile young nation's first real financial institution: the Bank of the United States.
Meanwhile, Joan Maycott is a young woman married to another Revolutionary War veteran. With the new states unable to support their ex-soldiers, the Maycotts make a desperate gamble: trade the chance of future payment for the hope of a better life on the western Pennsylvania frontier. There, amid hardship and deprivation, they find unlikely friendship and a chance for prosperity with a new method of distilling whiskey. But on an isolated frontier, whiskey is more than a drink; it is currency and power, and the Maycotts' success attracts the brutal attention of men in Hamilton 's orbit, men who threaten to destroy all Joan holds dear.
As their causes intertwine, Joan and Saunders – both patriots in their own way – find themselves on opposing sides of a daring scheme that will forever change their lives and their new country. The Whiskey Rebels is a superb rendering of a perilous age and a nation nearly torn apart – and David Liss's most powerful novel yet.

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To ensure that this line of credit would continue, should there be a curtailing on the part of the two major banks, Duer had involved himself in a scheme to found a new bank in New York, to be called the Million Bank.

Leonidas and I barely risked exchanging glances. I showed no particular interest but merely asked how long this plan had been in the works.

The wart-nosed speculator turned to me. “If you have some interest in investing in the new banks, you may call upon me in New York. I can broker any investment you choose.”

“I would need to know more before I could invest any money.”

“You need only know that, if you hesitate, someone else will take your place-and willingly too. Interest in the banks has risen so high that investors are calling it a bancomania. I promise you that you will find my commissions to be very reasonable, but the Million Bank launches this coming Wednesday, so if you wish to benefit from this opportunity you will need to act quickly.”

He handed me his card, and I pretended to look at it with interest.

One of the other speculators turned to me. “You may be sure he speaks the truth. If you do not act quickly, you may lose the opportunity. However, that may not be a good enough reason to invest.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“The Bank of the United States was born under the guidance of the Treasury Secretary, who is a capable man, and the Bank of New York and the Bank of North America have stood the test of time. But these new banks are only ventures designed to make money for the first investors. There is no thought of the bank’s future prospects, which, because neglected, must be poor. Take my advice and act with caution.”

The wart-nosed man turned to his colleague. “I say, that was rather unkind of you, frightening off a customer. ’Tis rather rude to do that to a man who is sharing your coach.”

“Is he not also sharing my coach?” the other asked.

The wart-nosed man pondered this question for a moment. “Perhaps so, but I stood to make money by enticing him. You stood to make none by dissuading him. That sort of thing-well, ’tis hardly better than vandalism.”

“Some would call it integrity,” I suggested.

“Whoever would say that never worked upon commission in his life,” he answered.

We made excellent time and arrived that afternoon, very late, at the New Jersey side of the Hudson, where we concluded our journey by ferry. Arriving in full dark, we were greeted at once by the bustle of New York. I had abided in that city for some years after the war and always liked it, without wishing to call it my home. It was full of frenetic people who could be little troubled to speak to a stranger, though once you started conversing with a New Yorker, he could no more stop himself from speaking than a river can stop flowing. I have ever felt fondness for Philadelphia, and it is in many ways a far more gracious city in which to live, but I could not help but feel regret that the capital was no longer in New York, which I had ever thought, with its sharpish tone, the very place for a national seat. Of all the cities in America, it has the most European flavor, with its international fashions, its excellent eateries, its diversions, and its variety. The streets are peopled with speakers of a hundred languages, and the harbor is ever full, even in winter, with ships stretching out into a forest of masts.

Tired and in need of refreshment, we took ourselves at once to Fraunces Tavern and proceeded to secure our room. After washing, I went down to the taproom, a spacious and well-lit affair, where I called for a plate of boiled ham and bread and two bottles of their most agreeable wine.

Once we had completed our meal, I told Leonidas that we might do well to begin our work. “We’ll go see Duer,” I said. “He has ever been at the center of all of this. Perhaps he can tell us where to find Pearson.”

“What makes you think he will tell you anything?”

I shrugged. “I will ask politely.”

We then hired a coach and traveled to a more northern location on the island of Manhattan, a village called Greenwich, where Duer’s palatial home stood with all the regal bearing of an old-world manor house. I understood that our trip might be for naught, for a man of Mr. Duer’s prominence could well be abroad attending to business or social concerns, but we were fortunate and he was at home. The servant appeared reluctant to admit us, but I used the name of Hamilton, which proved a shibboleth not to be denied, particularly when Duer’s own wife was cousin to Hamilton ’s lady. With Leonidas taken to the kitchens to learn what he could, I was shown to a commodious room identified as a study and offered refreshment.

At last the door opened, and I recognized the prim and slender form of Mr. Duer from our brief encounters at Philadelphia. There was no sign of the mysterious Mr. Reynolds, but now he was accompanied by a very tall creature, a man with large eyes of a sunken appearance, a hooked nose, and thin lips seemingly devoid of blood. His hair, the color of dirt, thinned considerably in the front, but hung loose and stringy in the back. He was, as I say, tall, though of a narrow and stooping frame, with hunched and rounded shoulders, and he appeared, for all the world, to be panting.

“Ah, Captain Saunders,” Duer said. “I am so sorry I could not keep our appointment in Philadelphia, but it is good of you to call upon me here, though it’s rather an extravagant gesture. A letter would do, perhaps?”

“My particular interests favor a visit.” I kept my voice agreeable, but I met his eye with a determined stare.

“Yes, yes. But where are my manners?” he shouted to the universe. “Wherever are they? I must present to you my associate,” he said, gesturing to the man I found increasingly troll-like, lurking still near the door, “Mr. Isaac Whippo. Whippo is something of a factotum in my service. I have found him to be indispensable in my work.”

I expected the factotum to bow or acknowledge the kindness of his master. Instead, he picked at a piece of lint on his not-overclean sleeve as though I were not worth his interest.

Duer gestured for me to sit, and I did so, though Whippo remained standing, at first lurking near the door and then standing near the window, gazing out into the darkness like a pampered pet who wishes the freedom to relieve himself.

Duer steepled his fingers and gazed at me through the window of digits. “Yes, well, it is all a bit redundant. I suppose I must answer questions, but I don’t see that I must do it twice.”

“Twice?”

“Yes. That little Jewish man, Lavien, has already been here today. Now must I speak to you as well?”

“Lavien? How did he get here before I did? I took the first express after I last saw him.”

“He rode,” said Duer. “Upon horseback, I believe. Much faster than the express.”

“And did you have a pleasant conversation with Mr. Lavien?”

“No, I did not. I don’t like the fellow.”

“Then you may have a pleasant conversation with me. Unlike Mr. Lavien, I do not work for the government or for Hamilton. I am here upon my own business. Lavien, I presume, was anxious to learn about information surrounding the bank.”

I had intended to refer to the Bank of the United States, but Duer misunderstood me. “Yes, I told him I have no connection to any new banks. I would not invest in the Million Bank, and I pity anyone who does. It is doomed to fail.”

“I have heard that you are intimately involved in the Million Bank,” I said.

“It’s a damnable lie,” he said. “Someone makes free with my name. It happens frequently, I am sad to say. It is an unfortunate consequence of reputation that when my name is attached to a project it is often viewed as a sign of inevitable success. Thus there are men who will cast it about that I have smiled upon their undertaking to generate interest among the general populace. I fear it may be so in this case. Anyone who invests in the Million Bank is certain to lose his money.”

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