The doctor let out half a laugh. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. Give me a minute.”
“I don’t disagree, mind you.”
“Good, because we must prevent the story from going public, and thereby prevent Haymes and her … her minions from discrediting me. We must get someone to defend my character, and remind the nation of the truth in my editorial. We need a credible person—you, perhaps, Mr. Lincoln—to write a follow-up to my editorial letter, underlining the key points and alluding to evidence that exists, and is confirmed, and will be revealed in good time.”
Lincoln shook his head. “Gideon, you make it sound … well, not easy. But you make it sound doable, and it isn’t. Not the way you present it.”
“You won’t write a letter?”
“I will, absolutely. I’ve supported you from the very start—from the very first plans you drew for the Fiddlehead. I believed in you then, and I believe in you now—not just because I know that you’re incapable of having killed those people.” He adjusted himself in his chair so he could face Gideon more fully, make absolute contact with his one good eye. He did not blink as he said, “If you were not right, and powerful, and dangerous, they would not have resorted to this. But because you are right, and powerful, and dangerous, they have. And they’ll resort to worse before they’re finished. I can feel it in my bones.”
Nelson Wellers wrung his slim hands together and swallowed, then ran his fingers through his hair. “He was with me when the murders were committed. He has an alibi.”
“Yes,” Gideon said it fast, as the puzzle piece fell into place. “Yes, that’s true. From a doctor and an agent of the law, after a fashion. We can prove I’ve done no wrong. I should’ve let them arrest me!”
“Gideon, no. You were right to slip away while you could. I sensed it the moment they arrived. They didn’t want to interview me, or have me offer any statement on your behalf. And when they realize that I can vouch for you, they’ll come for me. I…” He looked around, his gaze darting from corner to corner. “I shouldn’t stay here. I’m a danger to you all.”
“Wellers, settle down,” Gideon groused. “No one’s coming for you. I’m the problem here. if anyone should go, it ought to be me.”
“But I’m willing and ready to plead your case and take the stand on your behalf. That’s why they’ll need to be rid of me. If they kill Gideon,” Wellers said sharply to Lincoln, “they make him a martyr—they make his message louder. But if they kill me, he has no defense and he’ll be shrieking his message from a jail cell, like a madman. I need to send a message to Chicago. I need to summon a replacement.”
“You’re abandoning us?” Gideon asked with disbelief.
“No. Absolutely not. But I can’t speak on your behalf if I’m dead, and I won’t stand for anyone else getting caught in the fray. Certainly not you, or Mary or Polly,” he said firmly to the old man.
“Now don’t say anything rash. Furthermore, don’t do anything rash,” Lincoln said in a calming voice. “They can’t kill us all. They won’t kill us all, even if they catch us. The police won’t be back for another hour or two, I shouldn’t think; and although Haymes has agents who are willing to break the law, they may not have arrived yet, and surely they won’t come for you here. Not yet. Not yet.” He murmured the words like a mantra. “We have time to think. Time to plan for—”
He was interrupted by a knock on the door, hard and fast, a steady bang of the metal ring.
All three men froze in place, exchanging a violent lightning of glances.
The doctor said, “Gideon, hide.”
And Gideon said, “No.”
“No one’s hiding, not yet,” Lincoln said, his timbre a plea for patience and order. It was a plea for time, but even that great man couldn’t wring more from the moment than was already granted.
Down the hall a man came running, all heavy footsteps and rambling, long-legged pace; and behind him trailed the lighter, frantic footsteps of the serving girl. In the library, all three men drew guns, prompting Gideon to wonder where Lincoln had hidden one, and how he used one with those twisted fingers.
He analyzed the situation with his ears.
Polly’s following behind him, whoever he is. He didn’t break inside, he knocked. He is alone except for the girl, who can’t catch up to him. This might not be what it sounds like.
“Abe!” the newcomer shouted before he reached the library. That one word blew the tension from the room like steam through a kettle whistle.
“Grant?” the old president asked, just in time to spy the leader flinging himself around the doorjamb.
“Abe, they’ve killed…” He stopped when he saw Gideon and Nelson, who lowered their guns but did not put them away.
“I know,” Lincoln told him. “Your housemaster, and his wife, and the girl who stole those papers. I got your message half an hour ago, and I’m very sorry to hear of it. Is everything … otherwise all right?”
“No, it’s not. Nothing’s all right. This is about you.” He pointed at Gideon. “And me. They’ve done this to us, not just to those poor people they’ve killed out of hand.”
“They wish to discredit me,” Gideon said stiffly.
“Oh, that’s not all they want. No, no, no. I’m afraid not.” Grant walked to the far window. He held his hand against the glass to guard his eyes from the glare. Seeing nothing outside, he reached up to draw the heavy velvet curtains shut. He turned around. “They want to keep me cowed, as surely as they want to make you look like a murdering maniac. Maybe they want to make me look mad, too. I had to escape two Secret Service men in order to arrive here unseen. At least I believe I haven’t been seen…”
Lincoln said, “Dr. Wellers is confident they want him dead, too. It’s quite a party here tonight.”
Gideon explained, “Wellers and I were together when the murders happened.”
“Then he might have a point,” Grant said. To Lincoln, he added, “You need to guard this man’s life with … with your life. The four of us,” he said, so out of breath from his trip, and from the revelations that had brought him there, that his speech caught in his throat, “are all that keeps them from milking the Union nearly to death, and slaughtering thousands for the profit.”
Gideon put his gun back in his coat and clenched his fists. He measured his words against his fury and rising fear, and cast it all at the president. “Goddamn, but you’re being shortsighted, sir! If the war runs on, it won’t just be Atlanta that falls to the plague. Remember the Fiddlehead. Remember the numbers, and the predictions: the continent will fall within the decade if we cannot stop this madness and force a conclusion. Possibly the world!”
Nelson Wellers laughed ruefully. “It’s not enough to save our own skins, or the entire nation.” He sighed. “No, we must save the world as well. All from this library.”
Lincoln gave a crooked shrug. “There are worse places from whence to mount a defense of civilization.”
Grant seemed to agree, but he was flustered, and he rambled. “They threatened me, Abe. Not just me, but Julia—they’ve threatened her. That terrible woman, that dragon in a hat. She’s the one who did this.”
“Where is Julia now?” his old friend asked.
“Baltimore, but that’s not far enough away to keep her safe from Haymes.”