Robert Randisi - Bullets & Lies

Prince smiled, turned, picked up the reins, and shook them at his horse. The cab started off. Roper waited until it had driven out of sight, then turned and walked toward the river’s edge, and the colonel.

13

Roper walked to the colonel, who continued to stare out at the running river.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Yes, it is.”

Sanderson looked at Roper over his shoulder.

“It’s a famous river, the Potomac, but then I’ll bet you’ve seen many famous rivers. Your work takes you all over the country.”

“I have. The Hudson, the Mississippi, the Missouri, the Colorado…”

The colonel turned to face Roper. Sixty had been a kind guess. The man looked to be in his late sixties—gray, dry-skinned, wrinkled, he also looked tired. Very tired. Roper wondered how much clout the man really had anymore.

“What brings you to Washington, Roper?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know, Colonel?”

“It’s my job to safeguard this country.”

Roper laughed. “From me?”

“From anyone.” The colonel frowned at Roper’s suit jacket. “Did he disarm you?”

“Yes.”

“I told him not to.”

“He had orders.”

“Not from me.”

“You were willing to trust me this close to you with a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you know I’m more in hell alive than dead,” the colonel said. “You were there, during the war. You saw me, you know that I reveled in it. I’m a fighting soldier, Roper. And when I’m not fighting, I’m in hell. I’m…dying here in Washington. Dying…you know it.”

“I’m not here about that.”

“Then what?”

“I’m trying to find out about the government’s plan to recall certain Medals of Honor.”

Sanderson frowned again.

“Why would you care about that?” he asked. “You never got one.”

“This isn’t about me,” Roper said. “I have a client.”

“That’s right,” Sanderson said. “You’re some kind of detective now, aren’t you?”

“A private detective, yes.”

“Like Pinkerton.”

“I’d be lucky if I was as good a detective as Allan Pinkerton was.”

“An egomaniac, that man,” Sanderson said with a faraway look in his eyes. “He was given too much authority during the war. It went to his head.”

Roper didn’t rush to Pinkerton’s defense. That wasn’t why he was there either.

“What were you doing at Dupont Circle?” the colonel asked. “Who were you seeing?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

“Confidentiality?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sanderson studied Roper for a few moments, then turned and looked out at the river again. Roper moved up next to him and also took in the river. It was blue, bluer than most rivers he’d seen—the Mississippi and the Missouri were muddy brown—but they all ran the way the Potomac was running today.

“When did we last see each other, Roper?” the colonel asked.

“Allan Pinkerton’s funeral.”

“That’s right,” the soldier said. “What a farce. To die from biting your tongue.”

It was an odd way for a man like Pinkerton to die, biting his own tongue in a fall and then succumbing to infection. His sons, William and Robert, took over the agency then.

“We didn’t talk much then, did we?”

“Well, sir,” Roper said, “we’ve never talked much. You never did like me.”

“Yes, you’re correct,” Sanderson said. “And you? How did you feel about me?”

“I respected you, sir,” Roper said, “and I still do.”

“But you didn’t like me?”

Roper hesitated, then said, “Well, you never gave me much reason to like you.”

“It was never you, Roper,” Sanderson said. “It was your methods. I’ve always thought they were…dubious at best.”

“But effective.”

“Yes, there was that.”

“We were at war, sir,” Roper said. “You and I have never agreed on the rules of war.”

“That’s correct,” the colonel said. “I believe there are rules, and you do not.”

Roper had nothing to say to that. There was no argument there.

“I’m getting old,” Sanderson said after a few moments. “As a result, I believe I’m mellowing.”

“That couldn’t be,” Roper said.

Sanderson smiled. “I heard you were here, at Dupont Circle, and I had a knee-jerk reaction. I brought you here—you came here willingly once you knew it was me, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sanderson looked at him. “You’re still a young man with a lot of life ahead of you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I envy you.”

Again, Roper had no reply.

“Young Prince will be along soon to take you to your hotel,” Sanderson said. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin. “I still have a lot of influence in Washington, Roper.”

“I don’t doubt that, sir.”

“Whatever you’re doing, if I can help, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

Stunned, Roper said, “Thank you, sir.”

Roper heard the carriage behind him. The colonel seemed to have nothing more to say. He was engrossed in whatever he saw out on the river.

Roper turned and walked back to the carriage.

14

On the ride back, Roper asked, “How long has he been like that?”

He thought Prince might respond, “Like what?” but the young man was better than that.

“It’s been a while, sir,” he said. “The captain looks after him pretty well, makes sure he doesn’t get himself in trouble.”

“I see.”

“The captain would like to see you before you leave,” Prince said.

“Is this up to me again, Corporal?” Roper asked. “Or a command?”

“No, sir,” Prince said. “The captain just said to let you know.”

“Well, why not?” Roper asked. “All I’m doing is having supper with an old friend tomorrow. I’m free all day today.”

“I’ll tell him, sir.”

“If he wants, he can send you to pick me up again, at my hotel,” Roper said. “I expect to be there the whole time.”

“Not interested in seeing Washington, sir?” Prince asked.

“Corporal, I’ve seen all of Washington I ever want to see.”

“It’s changed, sir.”

“Not enough,” Roper said. “Not nearly enough.”

Roper was reading the Twain novel when there was a knock on his door. He expected to see Corporal Prince there, but the man standing in the doorway was a captain. He was over six feet tall, about forty-five years old, and wore his uniform—and the collection of medals that adorned his chest—proudly. He had slate gray eyes that stared coldly through Roper.

“Mr. Roper?”

“That’s right.”

“My name is Captain Morressy.”

“I figured.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I came here,” Morressy said. “I wanted our meeting to be in private.”

Roper deciphered that to mean the captain did not want to be seen in public with him.

“Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you, Captain,” Roper said. “Come on in.”

The captain came in and closed the door behind him.

“I’ve got nothing to offer you in the way of a drink,” Roper said.

“That’s all right,” the Captain said. “I don’t plan to be here long, Mr. Roper. We can dispense with any polite pleasantries.”

“Just long enough to say your piece, huh?”

“Precisely.”

There was one armchair in the room, and Roper sat in it.

“All right, then,” he said. “Have at it.”

“You saw Colonel Sanderson today.”

“I did.”

“Then you know.”

“Know what? That he’s mellowed? That he’s lost some of his sharpness?”

“The colonel is ill, sir.”

“I thought as much,” Roper said. “He doesn’t look good at all.”