The Blackwood Trilogy

Prologue

Lawrence Hanson gently closed the back door to the office building and craned his neck to look both ways. The flame of the gas streetlights reflected on the puddles of the lifeless street. His pulse quickened with the fear of what he had just done. He held a satchel tightly in his hands and felt the dampness of his palms slide against the leather. Anxiety sent the blood rushing to his cheeks, and he felt sick to his stomach as his eyes continued to dart across the gloomy shadows.

Out of nowhere, a sudden shaft of light struck Lawrence squarely in the face. He froze in panic from the voice that came from the darkness.

Hold it right there! What are you doing here?

Lawrence’s heart beat so quickly that he could hear the blood rush through his ears. He uneasily turned to the direction of the voice and saw it was a watchman holding his lantern. They patrolled the grounds of the War Office Building at night, keeping it safe from intruders. Lawrence had the bad luck of meeting one making his rounds. I-I-I work here, he finally stammered.

This watchman was a pudgy man with a sloppy cap hiding a bushy mess of gray hair. His voice was hard and doubtful when he asked, Do you now? And who exactly do you work for, my lad?

Mister Forsythe.

I see, the watchmen’s voice softened. Why are you out so late? The office was closed hours ago.

I was asked to work late, Lawrence lied easily as his pulse began to return to normal.

Well then, be on your way. And make sure to be careful out there since you never know who is prowling around this time of night. He touched the brim of his cap in respect and returned to walking his rounds. His footsteps receded into the night, the shaft of light bouncing along the wooden boardwalk.

Lawrence let out a pent up breath and wiped his sweaty brow. Fighting the urge to run, he forced himself to slowly continue along his chosen path. In another hour, he thought to himself, I will finally be free.

He turned onto the main road. As the sound of his footsteps died away, a tall man in a ranger coat stepped out of a shadowy doorway. He silently followed in the same direction as his quarry. The man’s steps were quiet and sure as he stayed in the shadows, far enough behind to remain undetected. A smile crossed his thin lips.

*

Lawrence arrived at the Gay Lady Saloon a little later than he had hoped. The normal crowd of workmen was only just beginning to thin as they began to stagger home for the night. However the air was still thick with smoke and the smell of spilled beer. He pushed past the crowded bar and looked in the back corner toward a row of high-backed booths. There sat the man that he was supposed to meet.

The man was impatiently drumming his fingers against the table. Lawrence made his way to the back corner and remained standing. The tall man, who had been following him, came through the door and quickly caught up.

As Lawrence stood there, the man in the booth finally stopped drumming his fingers. He looked up and slowly smiled. He nodded at the tall, dark-haired man coming from behind. "You can go now, Stevenson,’ he murmured with the same lazy smile.

Yes, Mister Abbott the man called Stevenson replied. Before turning away, he quickly looked Lawrence over again with cold, dead eyes.

So you came after all, Abbott said to the young man with a smirk. Now go ahead - sit down and join me in a drink. He poured out a shot of whiskey for the young man and one for himself.

Lawrence sighed, shrugged his shoulders in resignation and sat down across from Abbott. I didn’t mean to be late, he started. It just took a little longer than I expected. My office is staying busy late into the night with the news of Fort Sumter. I just had to wait until everyone else left.

Abbot waved his hand, dismissing the tardiness. It doesn’t matter. I’m just not used to meeting in such an establishment as this, but places like this do have their uses. Who’s going to remember seeing us here out of this crowd? His hand loosely held the whiskey glass, and the bottle next to it was none too clean and nearly half empty. Your lateness didn’t bother me much, though I was beginning to doubt your courage in this matter. I just hope you brought what I requested. Otherwise, you won’t be receiving your – ahem – payment. His smile widened and his voice was thick with innuendo as he continued.

Lawrence’s eyes shot daggers at Abbott, his brow lowered. "My courage should never be doubted. And I assume that you would get money out of her if you could, unfortunate woman."

Abbott grinned. Men in your position should be more careful before they fall in love with a married woman. And especially if it’s a woman who sold those letters to me. He gestured lightly to himself, his hand resting on his chest.

Lawrence’s face flushed. It’s none of your business who I fell in love with, he said. If you had any decency, you would have left me well alone.

Yes, but it became my business. Perhaps you shouldn’t have written all of those letters to her in the first place, his face cracked into a nasty grin. It was only a matter of time before they were in my possession. Little did I know how useful they would end up being.

The young man’s face was red with anger and his voice trembled as he spoke. I’ve paid for those letters once before, and I’ve got what you requested here as well. This had better put an end to it all, he said loudly. He corrected himself and lowered his voice, hoping they hadn't been overheard.

Abbot leaned closer towards him and spoke almost gently, I think not, Mister Hanson. There are several other small matters you can help me with.

I’m not certain that I know what you mean. Lawrence replied. His anger was rising while the cool words escaped Abbott’s mouth.

Let’s not continue to play games. We will need even more secrets from your office. The Secessionists will come to rely on plans such as this, and how better to get them than from the War Department?

Lawrence’s hand slipped off of his glass in surprise. He jerked to his feet and his voice once again rose in anger. I’m in enough danger as it is. You just can’t expect anything more from me. I have taken more than enough risks already. What I have done is traitorous. If I am discovered, it will be the end of me. I will be sure to take you along on the ride to the gallows.

Be quiet you fool! Abbott warned him before looking over the saloon, checking to see that the young man’s words had not been overheard. No one appeared to be paying them any attention. He continued, Now sit down and listen to me. This business of selling documents could be quite profitable for all of us. I don’t intend to let all that money be had by someone else, and your frail conscience will not stop me. If you don’t do what is suggested, it may be a mistake you will live to regret.

Lawrence sat back down, looking miserable. The only mistake I made was hoping that you could be reasoned with like a gentleman. I will not give you these papers, and by my honor, I shall give you nothing else. I will report this to the Under-Secretary in the morning and will take whatever punishment they mete out.

Let’s think a bit more carefully before we do anything rash, Abbot protested. Now give me those plans right now, and we can talk about this at a later time. He filled the glasses again and watched him intently.

He looked at the glass for a moment and then slid it away. No, I’ve made my mind up. His voice still trembled slightly but had a determined tone. He slammed the table with his palms, stood up and walked away. He was quickly out of the saloon with the satchel and its contents still in his possession.

As the young man departed, Abbott shook his head and then found the eyes of his man Stevenson. He gave him a quick wave of his hand. With a nod in return, the man walked out through the mass of revelers and made his way to the front door to follow Lawrence into the night.

Chapter 1

Jack Blackwood lit a cigarette and leaned back heavily in his old office chair. He had just finished reading the morning paper which lay on the desk before him. It had detailed the latest on the continuing Secessionist crisis. With the election of Abraham Lincoln, several Southern states had already voted to leave the Union. Federal troops were moving to Washington to protect the capitol from the Rebel States. The crisis in South Carolina had resulted in the bombardment of Fort Sumter, which had fanned the flames of war. Virginia, which was directly across the Potomac, was voting soon to determine if they would secede, and their decision was the current concern of the fracturing nation. Already Secessionist sympathizers in Baltimore had cut telegraph lines and destroyed bridges leading to Washington. While reporting to Washington, the 6th Massachusetts Regiment had been attacked by an angry mob. The soldiers were then forced to open fire on the crowd.

He touched his fingers together and blew smoke up at the ceiling, studying the patterns against the morning light flooding through the windows. He wasn’t much bothered by the coming war but was more interested in the possibilities it could bring. With the clouds of uncertainty over the city, there was money to be made.

Jack then stood up and walked over to the window, looking over the low-rent district where he lived. His office was in a corner building, above a tailor shop and it gave him an excellent view of the surroundings. The street below was still wet with mud from a light morning rain and the wagon wheels had cut deep tracks in the muddy road. Along the wooden boardwalk, the bustle of foot traffic around the stores could be seen. He could hear the newsboys, the cries of street vendors, and the slow rhythmic sound of horses pulling heavy wagons.

Off in the distance, Jack could see smoke in the air from the many campfires of the large encampment stationed outside the city. The increased presence of the Army had brought in packs of camp followers - ladies of the night, whiskey peddlers, pawn brokers, and traveling salesmen. There was a sense of fretfulness and excitement which hung heavily over the entire city.

Jack turned away from the window, looking over his office; at his desk with his familiar office chair, a coat tree, the chair for the rare customer, the old banker safe in the corner, and a gun rack with several well-polished pieces. He took a turn around the room, continuing to smoke and ponder the future. His head was hurting badly from the night before, but it helped if he didn’t stay still for too long.

He rubbed his grizzled chin and swallowed hard, feeling his dry tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth. Last night he had gone out drinking and could still feel the effects in his veins from the almost continual flow of whiskey. The saloon he had visited was busy with activity as people threw caution to the wind and had played their card games like Judgment Day was just around the corner. He himself had little money to spend playing cards, but enjoyed watching the rush of worried humanity act in their foolish ways.

There was a creak of the floorboards as the side door leading into the living area opened. His partner Ezra stepped in. He was a lean ex-slave who had worked with Jack these past many years. His dark face was scarred on one cheek from an old knife fight, but a sharp intelligence could be seen beneath the brown eyes. Self-taught in reading and writing, he had escaped from Mississippi when he was younger and made his way up north. The detective had met him while working on another case, and they had been inseparable ever since. Over the years, his partner had developed a deep knowledge of Washington by knowing the various servants of this well-to-do of the City. He also had several paid informants within the underworld of prostitution and gambling.

Jack smiled at his old friend, and then threw a dollar coin on the desk. He said, If you don’t mind, Ezra, do me a favor and pick me up a pint of whiskey and some more cigars. A little drink is in order right now – you understand, just to get my wits in order.

His partner shook his head and leaned against the door frame to study his friend. You should be more careful the way you spend your money on liquor. We only have a few dollars left and it’s been weeks since we were able to find any kind of work.

Don’t worry, I always manage to find us work. With all these recent troubles, I can feel something good coming. This year is going to bring both of us plenty of money.

Ezra looked at him in disbelief. He said stiffly, I’m not worried about this year; I’m worried about next week.

I’m certain we have enough to last us until I can scrounge something up.

I hope you are right, Ezra said with little confidence.

Now do me a favor and get that drink for me.

His partner shrugged, took the dollar and then turned to leave, whistling under his breath as he went down the side stairs.

Jack continued to slowly pace the floor, a cloud of smoke following him as he went. The floorboards squeaked lightly as his heavy boots shuffled along. He rubbed the side of his graying temples, and wished his headache away.

A few minutes passed by, and then the silence was broken by a hesitant knock at the front office door. Jack stopped in surprise. He then went to the door. Looking through the thick leaded glass, he saw a young woman standing in the hallway. He slowly opened the door.

A sweet feminine voice said, Excuse me, I wasn’t sure if I had the right place. I’m looking for a Mister Jack Blackwood, the detective.

Well, missy, you seem to have come to the right place. I am Jack Blackwood at your service. He gave a little bow and motioned her towards the chair across from his desk. Now what can I do for you? Go ahead, let me hear you out.

He held the chair for her as she sat down and then walked over to the other side of the desk. He stood behind it, waiting for her to begin.

Not looking at him, she instead gave the room a careful scrutiny. Jack, inwardly wondering at her thoughts and hesitation, decided to take his own seat while he waited for to start her story. As he waited for her to begin, Jack looked her over with appreciation – she was in her mid-twenties, with no wedding band on her hand, a pale face, and was wearing an expensive brown dress with burgundy trim. Long blond hair hung down beyond her shoulders where a small matching brown bonnet hung around her neck. She was obviously rich and well-groomed – the product of wealth and proper schooling. He decided that she was quite beautiful, but with that slightly pouty mouth that indicates a woman who was used to getting her way. Her eyes appeared tired, with circles underneath and redness at the corners. She fidgeted and continued to look over the dusty office. She then took off her gloves and nervously twisted them in her hands.

Jack could tell that she was worried. She was also obviously not used to visiting the poorer side of town. He decided it would take some doing to get the story out of her. Please, what can I do for you? he said smoothly. You must not worry since everything discussed in this office is quite confidential.

She licked her lips, revealing a dainty tongue, and began to talk in a high timorous voice. Dear sir, my name is Faith Hanson. I was sent by my father, the Honorable Daniel Hanson, to ask for your help. You once did a small service for my dear uncle, James Dawson, when he was in a most delicate situation. We are hoping you can do the same for us.

Yes, I remember that case. It was a violent rather than a delicate situation. I ended up with a knife wound from that blackmailer. But please, do continue.

She gave him a small shy smile before continuing with her story. My brother has been most mysterious lately. And now he is gone. We need someone to help us. She then shook her head with confusion and sighed.

What exactly are you asking from me, miss? he asked.

Please, I made a bad start of it. Let me start again from the beginning.

Go ahead.

She cleared her throat. Last year, my brother Lawrence started working for the War Department as a clerk. My father got him the job and it seemed to suit Lawrence rather well. He spoke highly of his superior and seemed at ease at his new workplace. But the past month he has become most agitated. My brother has been out late nearly every night and rarely comes home anymore after work. Her hand grabbed an embroidered lace handkerchief she’d placed in her sleeve, and she dabbed her eyes, and paused to regain her composure.

As she spoke, Jack imagined he knew the type of person. They would try to lead a secret life, which would eventually catch up to them. The drinking would begin to take over and, after a while, they would feel unable to return home from the shame. They would end up stuck in some cheap room with a bottle in hand, drinking their life away. Jack had seen what could happen to a man when the bottle became his life. He smiled reassuringly at Faith, dropped a little of his formal demeanor, and became more frank. Perhaps he has met a woman, got drunk, or wants to play a few cards after work. Young men are always out and about these days.

Faith blushed lightly and looked away from Jack’s searching gaze. My brother isn’t quite that kind of person, she said shyly. He has always been most kind to my father and me. We are a good family and are sympathetic towards each other.

Well, what is your problem then? I could make the rounds and see what business is keeping him up after hours. he said.

That’s not the problem, she sniffed. You see, he has disappeared. On Tuesday morning, he told me he had to go see a man that evening. He said not to worry, but he looked most troubled. He did not come home that night or even on Wednesday. After making inquiries at his work, we found that he had not been there since Tuesday. That’s when we decided to find someone to help us.

Have you contacted the City Ward? Jack asked coolly. He was almost ready to dismiss the case since he was not interested in spending his time tracking down a wayward young man who was probably trying to drink his problems away. They’re pretty good at finding out where people are hiding. Your brother could be in jail and is too embarrassed to send word to your father.

The City Ward? she replied with a hint of sarcasm. They are undermanned and are too busy rounding up drunken soldiers to help us. We need someone who is exclusively dedicated to helping our family.

I see, he said slowly. The thought of dismissing the case faded into the past as he thought of the cash possibilities. He was currently short of money - it would only take a few inquiries and then he could get the payoff from the Hanson family. Do you have any idea where your brother could have gone? he finally asked.

She played with the fingers of her gloves and said, I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mister Blackwood. You see, the War Department is now investigating Lawrence. His supervisor, a Mister Forsythe, came to our house to inquire of his whereabouts.

What did they want from you? Jack sat up straighter, now growing more interested.

Some important papers are missing, and they say they have proof that my brother was involved in their theft, she sighed. This man Forsythe has accused my brother Lawrence of stealing these documents to sell them to the Secessionist States.

Do you know what information the papers contain?

I do not know. We know my brother cannot have done this. He would never do anything so terrible as to betray the trust given to him. It would be totally against his character.

You might be surprised what a man can do who is caught in the wrong situation. He leaned back into his chair and frowned at the ceiling, wondering where Ezra was with the pint of whiskey. He then cleared his dry throat and continued on. This man your brother was going to see, do you know his name?

Not quite a name, but a clue to where he could have gone. Early this morning, with my father’s permission, I took the liberty of going through my brother’s room. I found this message in his dresser drawer. She handed a small slip of wrinkled paper over for Jack to read.

Meet me at the Gay Lady Saloon at Eight O’ Clock tonight – A.

He looked the paper over before placing it on the desk. This indeed may be a clue to where he has gone. Do you know anyone with a name beginning with A?

My brother did meet with a man named Abbott on occasion.

What do you know of this man?

There's not much that I can remember, but perhaps my father may be able to answer your questions in more detail.

I would be more than happy to talk to your father, Jack replied.

Please stop by to give us a moment of your time. Smiling, she jotted her address down on a slip of paper and then rose to leave.

He looked at her and paused as if remembering something important before he spoke. I have a few early business appointments this morning, but I will come over as soon as I can spare the time. If your father agrees to my bill of ten dollars a day, then I will be willing to look into this matter.

We shall agree to pay anything if you can find my brother, she said.

Jack followed her as she walked to the door. Please make your mind at ease, he said soothingly. I will be by with my partner as soon as I can. If anyone can find your brother, it will be us.

She turned to smile at him and nodded. She then left, taking the stairs in haste. Jack watched her with interest before shutting the door and returning to his desk.

Some moments later, Ezra stepped in through the side door holding a small pint of whiskey and a packet of wrapped cigars. He saw Jack sitting behind his desk, methodically cleaning his old Starr revolver. Jack looked up and grinned at him with his eyes twinkling. He set the bottle on the desk. By that look on your face, there is something going on. You only look that way when money is jingling in your pockets.

Jack picked up the bottle and pulled open the cork stopper. I told you something would come along. We have a missing person case on our hands. He took a long grateful pull from the bottle and sighed with contentment.

That doesn’t sound like much of a job, Ezra said, grumbling.

Hold on and let me finish. There are some missing papers involved. The War Department is also looking for this Lawrence Hanson. If we can get him back to the family before he is caught by the government then they are sure to reward us rather well.

That sounds a little more profitable, his partner said with renewed interest.

Now what do you know about the Hanson family? One father named Daniel Hanson, a son called Lawrence, and a pretty little creature called Faith.

Ezra thought a moment before answering. They are an old Washington family that has been involved in politics since the Revolutionary War. Until a few years ago, the old man was a Congressman. Before his recent retirement, he was quite popular in the Whig Party. The mother passed on a few years ago. The son was always on the wild side, and his daughter is almost considered an old maid – she’s had several suitors but nothing definite.

Jack looked at him slyly. She didn’t look anything like an old maid to me.

He laughed. That may be so, but you are hardly respectable company. I will have to ask a few of the local servants if you want to hear any more stories about them.

I’m always surprised what you do know about this town. Jack knew that his partner could always be counted on to know something about every important family in Washington. Jack took another swig from the bottle and put the cork back in. Do you know anything about a man called Abbott? He was mentioned, but I’m not sure where he fits in this business yet.

Ezra shook his head. Abbott is a fairly common name. There are a few unsavory characters in the immediate area with that surname. But there is one that really stands out in Washington - Lewis Abbott is a villain of the worst sort and has been involved in several nefarious schemes. I’m not sure if he would have anything to do with this, but he is the only obvious person I can think of. Perhaps your friend Garrett would know more about this disappearance.

I like that idea. Let’s head on over to see Garrett and then pay a visit to the Hanson house. Then we can see if the family can tell us anything else about their wayward son and this mysterious Abbott.

Jack slid the pint of whiskey into his coat pocket. After locking up, the two of them headed towards the livery where their horses were kept.

Chapter 2

Narrative of the Washington gentleman

I can’t imagine how such a respected family as the Hansons became involved in a scandal. The Hansons have been established in Washington so long that the whole family seems as much a part of the city as the cherry blossoms in the spring and the frozen mud in the winter. The eldest child, Faith, has grown into quite a lovely creature. She was precocious as a young woman and awkward at times. Her mother, Patricia, had an influence that helped her to become more modest and a shade more retiring. Indeed Patricia’s ability to entertain and act the part of the gracious hostess is, in part, responsible for her husband’s successful holding office for so long. If only common people really knew how politics were played in Washington. For quite a few years, the people holding invitations to the Hanson’s house were envied by the less fortunate.

But I am digressing here, as I had been thinking of the newspaper reports regarding the disappearance of Lawrence Hanson. Lawrence is the older child of Daniel and Patricia. He has seemed content to be unaccomplished in life. While his father was a senator, his mother among the most gracious hostesses in the City, and his sister intelligent and attractive, Lawrence has remained unnoticed. Missus Hanson’s final illness and passing seemed to have affected him more than I would have expected. It was possible that he was favored and sheltered by her. At any rate, his father has in recent years felt the need to forward the boy’s career. Lawrence had all the access to money for his hobbies previous to his mother’s death - which had alarmingly started to include gambling, horses, women, and drinking.

After a rumored scandal, Mister Hanson had issued an ultimatum: no further excesses would be tolerated, and in what was seen as a suggested penance for his offenses, Lawrence was placed in a position in government offices to give him more to do with his idle hours. To all appearances this action has worked, but according to my acquaintances, (and the knowledge of that particular social circle) Lawrence merely became more cautious in his habits, frequenting other drinking establishments and keeping his hours at home more regular so as not to raise his family’s suspicions. I myself would refrain from gaining this information first hand, but I can trust the thoroughness of my acquaintances regarding it. A man of my social standing cannot be seen to be seeking idle gossip regarding such establishments nor their patrons. One would wonder whether Lawrence might be better off to leave the City altogether, but perhaps he was afraid to be too far away from his father and his money, or perhaps the city held another attraction for him.

The news of Lawrence Hanson’s disappearance staggers me. Perhaps Mister Forsythe has more information about this mystery than he admitted to in the newspaper reports. A number of missing documents was hinted at also in the article but would not be verified by government sources. In fact, it was a typical newspaper account for these times. Since publishers are afraid of being accused of slander and personally feel the possibility of dueling upon someone’s honor, they seldom publish all the facts. Readers need to use their deductive faculties at times. Indeed, when the previous scandal involving Lawrence was printed, it merely stated that A certain Mister H of the Georgetown area had been seen too often in someone’s company than was good for his health. Unless one knew the parties concerned it could be difficult to read between the lines of that social page entry.

With the approaching Southern conflict, newspapers are even worse. While every soul is eager to buy each issue, and it is read voraciously, not much actual news can be gained. Rumored assassination plots to prevent Mister Lincoln from arriving in Washington were all over the front page for weeks after his election. His entry into Washington was kept secret in case the plots were true, and it seemed too many people that he entered office more of a coward than a leader for that behavior. Newspapers insinuate that anyone with a Southern background seems to be entertaining suspicion, regardless of the fact that Washington is so very close to Southern states, and also regardless of where their actual loyalties may lie. I personally have felt that the federal government ought not to interfere so much in the way business is done in the South, but I might shy from openly stating this in public. A state ought to be able to decide for itself how a person can do business there.

There also seems to be a feeling recently that so many secretly Secesh persons exist in Washington and that something should be done to ferret these people out. In view of my own long establishment in the city I had assumed certain gentlemen and ladies of the area would be definitely pro-Union, yet I have been mistaken before, and I expect to be mistaken again regarding this. Presently I am preoccupied with this Secessionist business, mostly because I have been reading another account of the actions at Fort Sumter. The rebels are organized enough to be able to fight instead of merely fomenting for their cause.

*

Ezra and Jack rode up to the decrepit building that housed the City Watch. It was a brown brick affair that was in need of repair - several windows were broken and covered since it was a popular sport to throw rocks at the police department. They dismounted and hitched their horses to the post outside. At this time in the morning, a few people were there since it was a popular time to pick up a friend or relative who had been pulled in the night before for drunkenness.

The main job of the City Watch was to round up drunks and keep the peace. Henry Garrett was the current Captain of the Watch and an old friend of Jack’s. They knew each other from their days in the Army. They had both seen plenty of fighting in the western prairies and afterwards came separately to Washington to start different careers. Garrett had gone into the police force, eventually promoted to the top position for his hard work. It had been a pleasant surprise when Jack and Garrett had met again in the course of business.

Jack and Ezra brushed past a bleary-eyed man leaving though the front doors. They entered and nodded to the front clerk. The clerk raised his eyes momentarily at them and nodded in recognition, allowing them past. Jack pushed the swinging door open and they went into Garrett’s office.

The office was a small affair, cramped with books and in need of a good dusting. The windows were open, letting in a damp cool breeze. The gentle hum of a trapped fly could be heard tapping against the glass. Jack saw Garrett sitting at his desk, studying some reports.

Good morning, Garrett, it’s good to see you, Jack hailed his old friend.

Garrett looked up from his paper-strewn desk and briefly smiled at them. Well, if it isn’t Jack, he boomed with a hearty voice. He was a compact man with a long beard and sparkling blue eyes. His face was lined and tanned from years of living out West. The captain was rough in his language and manners, but he was a good man to work with. Ezra, I see you are still wasting your time with this old devil. After I spent my time in the army with Jack, I was hoping I would never see him again. Ten years later and he’s still showing up like a bad penny.

Ezra smiled back. It’s good to see you again, Captain.

It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you two. Are you stopping by only to see me? Or is this business? Garrett asked them. He pushed some papers away, leaning back in his chair to give them a listen.

I’m sorry to say that this is a business call, Jack replied. Someone is missing and his family is getting sick with worry. We are trying to track down where he may have gone. We thought we would get some further information from you before visiting the family.

You always like being prepared. But why are they asking you for help? This sounds more like a job for my men.

They think you are too busy rounding up pickpockets and inebriated soldiers to be of any use to them, Jack replied with a wink. He knew that Garrett held himself rigidly to the law and didn’t always approve of Jack’s methods.

If that is the case, then I’m not sure why you would even come to ask me for my help.

Of course we would have to stop by to see you, Jack laughed. You always know what is going on in this town.

Henry shook his head. I wish I could help you some, but we’ve been busy ever since President Lincoln has come to Washington. There have been several Secessionist conspiracies against his person. The government is running around making everyone sign silly oaths and trying to get rid of anyone they deem disloyal. This whole situation has made our job even more difficult, and it’s bound to get worse before it gets better.

Always the optimist, Jack said dryly.

How bad are things? Ezra asked Garrett.

There have been several desertions and even cases of sabotage. Ever since Fort Sumter was shelled, this town has been overrun with soldiers. If you haven’t noticed, the town is filled with raw recruits from every backwater town and farm village. They are getting their first taste of city life and have brought a whole army of whores and thieves with them. I just don’t have enough men to police the entire city.

We will come to the point then, Jack said. He sat himself in front of Garrett’s desk and Ezra joined him sitting in the other chair. We are looking for someone named Lawrence Hanson. We think he kept an appointment with someone at the Gay Lady Saloon on Tuesday and then disappeared afterwards.

I know the place, Garrett said. It’s not a pleasant part of town for anyone to visit even during the day. We have to break up fights often and haul away some of the heavier drinkers. I’m not sure why someone of Hanson’s background would even be there.

You know of the Hanson family? Jack asked, looking incredulous.

I read the papers like anyone else. But I know everyone in this town, or at least the people worth knowing. Lawrence was here in this very office just over a year ago now. I wanted to throw him in jail for a while to teach him lesson, but his father convinced the accuser to let the matter drop.

What was he charged with? Jack asked. He was surprised that he would let Lawrence walk away a free man since Garrett normally followed the law to the very last letter.

I don’t wish to speak poorly of the lad, but he was accused of adultery. It’s an old story - the wife was with Lawrence and got caught by the husband while engaging in a less-than-moral activity. There are laws against adultery in this town, but they are hard to enforce and even harder to prove. The husband wanted to press charges, but enough money was passed around to make sure everyone who was involved stayed quiet.

I see, Jack said. He pulled out three cigars and offered one to Ezra and then one to Garrett. What ever happened to the woman Lawrence was seeing?

The captain took the cigar, bit off the end, and took the match offered by Jack. He lit his cigar and pulled deeply on it, letting the smoke roll slowly out of his mouth. I’m not sure. She just disappeared afterwards. Rumor has it that her husband didn’t want her back anymore. A smirk flitted across his face. I’m not too surprised.

Jack pondered that for a moment and then said, The night Lawrence disappeared he may have met a gentleman with the name of Abbott. Do you know anyone with that name?

Garrett gave them a dark look. I can tell you plenty. If Lawrence has gotten into trouble with the Abbott I’m thinking of, then the poor lad has bitten off more than he can chew.

What can you tell me? Jack asked, impressed again at the encyclopedic knowledge of Garrett. My partner here knew of him as well – I’ve never had the pleasure of running into him.

His full name is Lewis Abbott. He’s a villain to be sure. We’ve never had any legal reasons to charge him with anything, but it would make me happy to do so. He is a keeper of whores, and the rumor is that he is less than kind to them. He also does some bill collections for gambling dens. On more than one occasion blackmail has also been mentioned in connection with his name, but no one ever steps forward to ask for our help.

I can imagine why someone might not want to prosecute a blackmail case, Jack said. They’d be thinking of the publicity and prefer to let the matter drop; though someone like you would be more inclined to see it through.

Why haven’t you locked him away? Ezra asked impatiently. There are a few girls I know who have run afoul of him. He’s a bastard.

Garrett smiled thinly at him. Prostitutes who are beaten or robbed rarely press charges since they are working illegally. We take the regular ladies and make them leave town. A week or so later they are back in town, playing the same old game under a new name. Abbott never has to worry about being attacked either - there is a man called Stevenson who helps keep the tougher customers in line. The pair of them is a dangerous combination. Abbott does all the heavy thinking while Stevenson does the dirty work.

Stevenson? What’s he like? Jack asked, pressing his friend for more information.

Well, he’s just the sort of man you would want – if you needed a killer. You know the type - born mean. He wasn’t given the good graces of society and church, if you know what I mean.

Jack chuckled. I can’t say I’ve had any such graces. I turned out alright.

Garrett laughed in agreement. That’s true, but Stevenson is not the type of company that a gentleman of Lawrence’s background would be seen with. This Stevenson is bad news through and through. A few years ago he had a fair number of troubles with the law, but then he suddenly started receiving help by a few well-paid lawyers. No one knows where this money came from.

This additional information turned out to be quite interesting to Jack. Someone with money was behind all of this. If Faith’s brother was being blackmailed, then the Hanson family would be more than willing to pay extra for Jack’s services. These old Washington families recoiled at any sense of dishonor. Is there anything else you can tell me about Lawrence?

He struck me as a weak lad who thought too highly of himself. He was the type of rich, spoiled bastard who doesn’t think of the consequences of his own actions. Garrett’s voice dripped with disdain. He would be easy enough to influence and even easier to trick. He is a witless boy who has had the good fortune of being rich, but not knowing how to use it to his advantage.

This is all good to know, Henry, Jack said. "It might interest you to know that some government papers are missing as well. One can’t be certain that he is the one who left with them, but the War Department seems to have made that inference, and are now questioning the Hanson family.

My goodness, that is interesting. I’d not have thought the Lawrence Hanson could have come up with such a plan on his own. Perhaps there is more to him than I thought. Garrett paused, his face turning stern. I don’t like it, Jack, he said with sudden decision. The two of you get on the wrong side of the government, and it will be bad news for you. Maybe it would be better for you to let the law handle this, that is, the City Watch and the War Department.

Nothing doing, Henry, I can look out for myself. This case may be delicate in some respects, but I am capable enough to deal with a missing man and a packet of documents.

Garrett shrugged. If you say so. I’ve been busy, but I’m also a worried man. Rumor is that soon even more soldiers are going to be pouring into Washington. The army is going to turn this city into a fort. There won’t be enough men in the Watch to keep down crime, and I’m afraid we will all be replaced sometime soon. Garrett threw the cigar down on the floor and ground it out with the heel of his boot. When a man worries like me, he has a hard time sleeping. Thoughts of losing your job can keep you up at night.

Don’t worry, Garrett, an old War hero like you, they can’t get rid of so easily, Jack said. He pulled the bottle of whiskey from his coat pocket and stood it on the desk. He knew that his friend liked to drink. It was nothing to give him the bottle that Ezra had just bought. Here you go. This will help some.

Garrett picked up the bottle and looked at it appraisingly. It won’t cure my troubles, but it can’t hurt. Thanks. He pulled the cork and took a long pull from the bottle. If you run into any trouble with this case of yours, let me know. I’ll see what I can do to help.

Thanks, Henry, Jack said. If you ever need a job, be sure to come and see me.

The captain stood up and said grimly, I hope it won’t ever come to that. He then shook hands with Ezra. I want you to make sure to keep this old man here out of trouble. Wherever he goes, trouble is sure to find him.

Will do, Captain, Ezra said easily. I’ve seen my fair share of trouble with Jack, but he always seems to end up on top.

Garrett laughed again. That’s more luck than anything else.

Jack then shook hands with Garrett and clasped him on the shoulder. If we hear anything you need to know, I’ll pass it along.

I would be much obliged if you did.

So long, Henry. Don’t drink too much, and don’t work too hard.

I would rather drink than work, Garrett replied as he uncorked the bottle again and watched them leave.

Chapter 3

The Hanson home was in the Georgetown district, which was on the outskirts of Washington. It took almost an hour for Jack and Ezra to find it since they had to ask for directions several times before finding the correct road. The lane leading up to the house was sheltered by several cherry trees with early spring blossoms. Jack smelled the thickly scented air which was sweet compared to the filthy stench of the city. The home itself was a large, painted white, Georgian-style surrounded by vast and well-groomed grounds.

Jack shook his head, impressed by the obvious wealth that would be involved in building such a house. Care to guess what this place would cost? he asked.

I couldn’t even imagine, Ezra replied sourly.

Neither could I, Jack said. He knew his partner had a strong dislike for a man who wouldn’t dirty his own hands for a living.

They rode past the front garden which was tidy and prepared for springtime. When they got to the entrance, a smartly dressed little boy took the reins of the horses and waited while Jack and Ezra dismounted. The boy then tied the horses to the post and gave a well-practiced little bow with his hand open. Jack handed him a penny. He then carefully brushed the dust off of his coat before walking to the entrance of the house. As the large front door opened, an old butler stood inside waiting for their approach. He was a thin man, with thick whiskers and graying hair cropped close to his temples. He gave both of them a slightly disapproving look. Jack could tell that the butler was not used to letting people of their class through the front door. Someone like him would be happier it they had used the back door like a servant or tradesman.

Jack strode confidently to the entrance. He said to the butler, I’m Jack Blackwood and this is my partner Mister Miller. I do believe that Miss Hanson is expecting us.

The butler looked Ezra over and frowned. Will your servant be coming inside with you or staying here? he asked with barely hidden contempt.

Jack was used to the attitudes of most people towards his partner, but he was never accepting of it. Mister Miller here is not my servant, and he will most definitely be coming inside with me, he replied coldly.

The butler’s jaw tightened and he spoke with his lips tightly pursed together. Yes, sir, if you would please come this way, he said harshly. He reluctantly held the door open and let them into the entrance hall.

At one time, Jack would not have been bothered by the butler’s comments. But over the years, he had grown to appreciate his partner more. He was not only a friend but a trusted business partner. Witnessing the daily hardship Ezra experienced due to his skin color, he marveled at the man’s self-control, and wondered what it cost him in self-worth to bite his tongue facing these attitudes.

Brushing those thoughts aside, Jack found himself rather impressed by the interior of the house. It was spotless and well-furnished, but not tastelessly overdone. The floors were laid with thick, plush rugs while the walls were covered with stylish wallpaper and well-done family portraits. They followed the butler through the large hall and into the side parlor.

He gestured towards a low sofa in the well-appointed room. If you would, you can wait for Miss Hanson here. I will announce your arrival, sir. He nearly spat out the last words. He turned on his heel and then left without even looking back.

Ezra made a face as they both sat down and looked the room over. It was an airy room with large open glass windows that went from floor to ceiling. Darkly stained wood floors were swept clean and covered with a flowered rug. The chairs were formal, but not gaudy. A large portrait of middle-aged, sandy-haired man hung over the small fireplace.

Jack stretched his legs out and crossed his feet. Well, they are obviously rolling in the money, he said. I must have gotten into the wrong business.

Ezra chuckled. Politics apparently pays better than I expected. But you wouldn’t be happy here anyways. You couldn’t handle the status that comes with a place like this.

He smiled benignly before answering. I guess not, but I wouldn’t mind trying it out for a spell. If someone wanted to do a bit of blackmailing, the Hanson family would certainly make a good target. A son who has been in trouble before will certainly be in trouble again. He was thinking back to his own past, but stopped talking as he heard footsteps approach the room.

Faith came in and they rose in unison as she made her entrance. She was followed by a well-dressed man. Jack could tell they were both trying to hide their shock upon seeing Ezra in the house, sitting comfortably on the sofa as if he belonged there.

Mister Blackwood, may I introduce you to Mister Ethan Davis, she said uncertainly. Ethan is a dear friend of mine who came over to see if he could help in any way. She smiled at her friend, apparently glad to have someone else to look at besides these two strangers.

Jack looked Davis over. He was wearing a fine European-cut suit and carried a silver-tipped cane. He was tall, with longish blond hair and a patrician nose. His clothes were obviously tailor-made and he carried himself rather arrogantly. This was the type of man who had never worked an honest day in his life, but lived off the wealth of his ancestors. Davis was glancing at the black man distastefully and kept himself close to Faith as if to protect her from any sudden move.

Davis gave a little bow. I’m pleased to meet you, Mister Blackwood, he said with a half-hidden southern drawl. I’m sure you will be of great service to Faith in finding her lost brother.

I will do my best, Jack replied with disdain. He didn’t expect anything of worth to come from the mouth of such a dandy.

As I said, I hope you can bring him home. She is most worried about her brother and fears for his safety.

She has the right to be, Jack said. But I’ve been rude. May I introduce you both to my partner, Mister Miller? Jack said this with some relish, expecting the usual social awkwardness that came when he presented his friend to strangers.

They turned to look at the ex-slave with puzzled looks on their faces. Faith blushed slightly while Davis just scowled.

Ezra gave a little bow with a smirk on his face. It’s a pleasure, Miss Hanson. Mister Davis, he said.

He is your partner? Faith asked, her voice climbing with amazement.

We have been working together for quite a few years Jack replied. I was in a tight situation with a noose, and he came to my rescue without waiting for me to ask.

I don’t like to see a man being beaten and hung by a mob, Ezra said simply. Some villains that Jack was trailing took it upon themselves to hang him by the neck. It seemed just a little unfair to me.

Jack relaxed a little since he enjoyed retelling one of his old cases. I had been on the trail of some horse thieves. I didn’t realize that one of my informants had been waiting for the chance to double-cross me. He let the criminals know what hotel I was staying at. I woke up in the middle-of-the-night to find a crowd in my room hauling me out to hang me. Luckily, Mister Miller here came to the rescue most efficiently. We’ve worked together ever since, he said proudly. I trust him fully and if you hire me, you also hire Ezra. He has important contacts within Washington and is an invaluable source of information for me.

I see, Faith replied uncertainly. But what kind of information could he possibly get?

Ezra knows the servants of just about every important family in Washington. Every rumor, scandal, or just interesting bit of gossip eventually comes his way. You would be amazed what servants hear through the course of a day.

Faith said wanly, I can only imagine what our servants could say about our family.

Maybe it’s something my partner already knows, Jack replied dryly. You mentioned earlier your father wanted to talk to us. Is he ready to receive us?

You must understand that father can only see one person at a time. He has not been healthy of late and can only handle so much strain, Faith explained.

That will not be a problem, he said while giving his friend a wink. Mister Miller can wait here while I go see your father. He could tell that Faith was uncomfortable with the idea of taking Ezra to see her father, but did not want to press the issue at this time.

Davis turned once again to Faith. He kissed her hand and pressed it to his. I must be going now. If you need anything, you know where to reach me.

Faith blushed like a rose and replied, Thank you, Mister Davis. I am always grateful for your assistance.

I will do anything to help find your brother, Davis said with sickly sweet tones. He then looked at Jack. I hope you are good enough to work for the Hanson family. Few men are. With those final words, he left.

Jack watched him leave with distaste, reconsidering his original impression of Davis as a mere dandy. This was someone not to be trusted.

She continued speaking to him, not noticing the expression on his face. Please, let’s go and see my father.

Very well, Jack replied solemnly. He motioned for Ezra to stay seated as he followed Faith out of the room

Father hasn’t been quite the same since mother died, Faith explained as they walked. He’s quite lonely in this old house. I wish I could spend more time with him, but he always asks me to leave after a while. He doesn’t feel it is right for someone young, like myself, to waste my time taking care of him. But what can I do? Her lips settled into a small frown. Please don’t get him too agitated with the wrong type of questions. His doctor says it is best if he remains calm at all times.

He doesn’t sound like the sort of man who would be easy excited - especially after all the years he spent in Congress.

Well, yes, but he isn’t a young man anymore. I have to spend a lot of my time making sure he gets the help he needs. Lawrence never has any time to help me, and you know how servants are. Her eyes rolled a little as she spoke.

Not really, I never had one since I’ve had to make my own way through this world. He stretched out his hands, motioning towards the rich furnishings. I’ve never had anything quite like this. Best thing I got for free were the meals I got when I was in the army.

Faith gave a gentle laugh. I’m sorry, she hesitated I just assumed Mister Miller would be looking after your wants.

He does to a certain degree. I’m apparently a difficult man to get along with, but we try to share in the housework. He’s a good man and always carries his own weight. I know some people will look down on a freeman, but he’s been the most loyal friend any man could ask for.

Faith looked embarrassed. She led him on and began speaking quickly as if to change the subject. Father is in the garden, enjoying the spring weather. Please follow me out.

They had now walked to the back of the house, having passed through the living room and kitchen. Through the back door, they entered a well-tended garden. A brick pathway led across a manicured lawn which stretched to the fence in the distance. Young leaves on a row of oak trees created a light shade.

Mister Hanson was resting on a wooden chair, using a large overcoat as a lap blanket. He held a cane tightly against the side of his leg. As they drew closer towards him, he looked up and smiled.

Good morning, Faith his frail voice said. Jack had the sense of a man almost apologetic for his age and failing health. He began appraising the detective with shrewd eyes jaded by years of service. He had a strong face, wrinkled by time and experience. His hands were liver-spotted and waxy.

Father, this is Mister Blackwood, Faith introduced them. He is willing to help us locate Lawrence.

Good day, sir. He bent forward to shake the old man’s hand. The hand was cold and damp. The handshake itself was weak, but Daniel Hanson kept his eyes locked on Jack’s.

The old man’s voice suddenly became business-like and only trembled slightly with age. After Lawrence disappeared, I telegraphed my dear sister for advice. She was once in need, and I have word from her that you once helped her husband out of a particularly delicate situation.

This was a man who was used to being listened to, and it was evident that he did not like to ask anyone for help. Jack said, "Yes, I remember that case. It concerned a young lady. With the kind of money that was being asked, the villain was going to make your brother-in-law go bankrupt within weeks. There wasn’t much time left when I was called