“That’s the word on the wires. At present, it ought to be someplace south of Dalton, but north of Marietta. That’s as close as anyone could pin it down. The taps are having trouble between here and there, but I don’t know if it’s a conspiracy, or just an inconvenience. You can rest assured I’ll keep trying to rouse the Rebs, though. They’ll sure as shit want to know about it, and might even be able to help. You never know.”
“Anything’s possible. And now Maynard is somewhere within…” Maria wracked her brain, trying to make an educated assessment. “Seventy or eighty miles of here? That’s no pinpoint, but it’s a narrower window than we had before.”
“When we’re finished up here and you’re on your way, I’ll drop Mr. Lincoln a line to keep him informed.” Some flicker of uncertainty crossed Troost’s face, but quickly passed.
But Maria saw it, and she asked, “What? Is something wrong?”
Troost laughed, short and harsh. “Other than the end of the world, you mean?” He pulled a map out of a drawer beneath the taps and spread it out beside them. “I can’t be sure, but I think something funny’s up in the District. I don’t trust the wires there, not tonight. There’s an interruption someplace, and I don’t like it.”
Henry stiffened, and he narrowed his eyes. “You think Mr. Lincoln’s in danger?”
“I think everyone’s in danger, more often than not. But yes, him in particular. And maybe the president, too.”
“You think it’ll go that far?” Maria asked.
“It’s gone farther than him already. But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. Not from here.” Finished with the subject for the time being, he jabbed his finger at the map to guide them, and said, “All right. From where we’re sitting now, the fastest way to Georgia is that road right outside, the little highway you came in on. But the more direct route is this road, which cuts through the south end of town and out past the ridge. The main road drops down that way, and it’s a straight shot to Atlanta, then on to Macon, and so forth.”
“Can we take that map?” Henry asked.
Troost rolled it up. “It’s all yours.”
“But will they be sticking to the main roads?” Maria asked. “They’re on a covert military mission; wouldn’t they take the side streets and back ways? They’re less likely to be caught that way.”
“I don’t know what side streets you’re talking about. Most of the way, it’s the main road or nothing. And these men don’t have much choice but to hide in plain sight. We’re talking about two dozen soldiers, a half-dozen horses, and a couple of carts big enough to pass for a mobile hydrogen station. They’ll be dressed in grays, with paperwork that’ll fool anyone who’d stop them—especially since there’s a big hydro facility in the middle of Atlanta. That may even be the truth, as that’s probably where they intend to detonate the weapon. It’s right at the edge of a real dense neighborhood, with plenty of easy victims.”
“And if the cloud roams…?”
“Can’t tell you much about the weather, ma’am,” Troost replied. “All I know is that word out of the city says it’s fair and calm, but clouds are coming up from the southwest, so you never know. Might be a storm in the Gulf pushing up a breeze. Let’s hope not, eh?”
She murmured, “You hope. I’ll pray.”
“Pray into one hand, shit in the other. You tell me which one fills up first.”
“That’s unnecessary.” She frowned.
“It’s a reminder, that’s all. Get out there and do your jobs, and don’t count on any help from above, unless it comes in the form of an airship.”
Henry stuck the map into his coat, jamming it down into a pocket. “And it’s our job to stop this caravan? The pair of us? Against a contingent of special Union forces?”
“A Pink and a Marshal against a squadron?” Troost grinned, and it only looked a little forced. “I almost feel bad for them. Now, let’s get you on the move so that I can get on the move.”
Maria asked, “You’re taking Sally and Caleb out? Tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m getting them as far from the blast zone as I can. Orders right from the top, from Uncle Grant this time.”
Henry said, “I was under the impression he hadn’t been too helpful so far.”
Troost started to roam the room, packing up small items and throwing them into a satchel. “He’s a sad old drunk who’s sitting in a nest of vipers, but he’s not a bad sort—and I don’t know what convinced him, but I can make a guess or two. Uncle Abe implied that Miss Haymes showed up to give him a heart-to-heart in person. But you know how it is with telegrams. You have to guess at half the detail.”
Maria tapped her fingernail on the table beside the telegraph key. “So, Henry, how fast can that carriage of yours run? It seemed a bit slow-going on the way here—not that I’m complaining, of course.”
Troost announced, “I have a better idea.”
Henry grinned. “I told her you might,” he said, as Troost passed him a small packet of paper.
“Take this down to the dirigible docks on Missionary Ridge. Henry, you know the place?”
“I can find it.”
“Got you a two-seater reserved. It’ll be cold flying—and I expect that might be hard on a delicate magnolia like yourself, Miss Boyd, but—”
“Hush your ridiculous mouth.”
“—but if you’re living on the Chicago lake, I figure you’ll survive the discomfort. Now, the craft’s reserved under the name Henry Fisher, courtesy of the Texas Rangers. I ran it that way because your stars ain’t too different, and if I’d put it under the Marshals, they’d have put me under arrest. Sorry, but you’ll have to fib it as a brown. How’s your Republican accent?”
“Passing fair,” he drawled.
Troost leaned on the table and gave him a critical eye. “Tell ’em you’re from the islands. Say Galveston. The vowels aren’t as long, and most Texians only halfway consider the Gulf part of their country anyway.”
“Got it.”
“Miss Boyd, you’re traveling as Mary Wilson. I tried to think of something more bland than that, but I failed. I hope it’ll do.”
“It’ll work just fine, thank you. How did you come up with all this so … so quickly?”
Henry flashed Troost a look that suggested he’d like to know, too, but Troost didn’t feel like sharing. “Tricks of the trade,” he said, and that was all. “Now get a move on. Every mile they go is another mile you have to chase them.”
“God knows what we’ll even do when we catch them,” Henry sighed.
Maria said, “We’ll tell them the truth. It’s all we’ve got.”
“Sadly, it’s the best we’ve got. Troost, thanks for all your help.”
“I’d say ‘anytime,’ except I wouldn’t mean it. Stop those fellows before they do something we’ll all regret—them most of all. When I get to the District, I’ll try to arrange papers from Uncle Grant to make explanations for you. Until then, just make sure they don’t shoot you if you get caught.”
“That was part of the plan already,” Maria assured him.
“You know what I mean. Now, make a run for it, make it good, and start practicing your story.” Then he gazed hard at Maria, as if she’d given him an idea. Maria didn’t like the feel of it, almost as if he was staring right through her … and perhaps he was. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “You remember your old friend Hainey, Miss Boyd?”
Calling the air captain an “old friend” was a little much, but she let it ride. “He’s a difficult man to forget.”
“I might be able to drag him into this. Might need to, in fact. I can’t be everywhere at once—I’m good, but I’m not that good—so I’ll need somebody…”