The dragoon captain now decided to spend some of his resources, dispatching two men to chase down the vehicle while the others kept up their guard on Bauer and the house. In truth, the redcoats' most difficult job at the moment was keeping straight faces. Keen's earlier curses had not inclined them toward helping him, and the Dutchman's antics were more than a little comical. From the safety of their horses they thought the dispute purely personal and not worth their intervention.
Keen cursed to high heaven as he rolled in the interior of the carriage, dust and smoke clouding his eyes and the door flapping back and forth in a great succession of crashes against his face. Several times he struggled upwards, intending to climb out and control the horses, only to be smacked down harder than before.
When she noticed the redcoats starting to pursue, Alison jumped from the bench and tumbled into the dirt, where she was plucked by van Clynne as he beat a hasty retreat back to the Sons of Liberty's sanctuary.
"You have your father's sense of timing," said the Dutchman as he led her up an obscure but convenient alleyway. "Another two seconds and my chest would have been weighed down with lead. Really, why does your race dally so when time is of the essence?"
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jake was met halfway t o the infirmary hideout by a loose group of boys and young men sent by Culper as reinforcements. He was not surprised that they had not met van Clynne or Alison; both were independent sorts and undoubtedly were proceeding by their own lights and circuitous routes back. At the hospital, however, he did worry, and had hunted up Daltoons in preparation of mounting a rescue mission when the landless Dutch squire and the disguised girl appeared at the door, arguing about who had saved whom.
"Where have you been?" demanded Jake.
"We have been salvaging your operation," declared van Clynne. "As usual. I tarried long enough to make the entire episode seem a simple robbery, appropriating some cutlery along the way. Your friend Dr. Keen tried to upend me. Which raises another matter: I thought you had disposed of him."
"He has more lives than a cat."
"Indeed. Perhaps we should recruit several dogs to attack him. Now, on to more important matters: is there any ale in the house?"
Jake shook his head and turned his attention to Alison, telling her with great severity that she had disobeyed his direct orders by not heading straight back to the infirmary. The ledger book was more important than all of their lives together, he told her, as its accounts might well tell General Washington where the British were heading. That, in turn, might save the entire Revolution.
"It gives no more clue to Howe's intentions than the wind," said van Clynne as he pulled it from his belt. "I took the liberty of examining it on the way. It will show you quite clearly that the British have spies spread throughout the continent and pay them equally. But beyond that, nothing. Now, where is the ale stored? Must I attend to every phase of the operation myself?"
The Dutchman disappeared down the steps. His opinions on other things might be severely prejudiced, but he was an unbiased expert when it came to account books. The places were clear, but Boston was as well-represented as Philadelphia, which appeared as many times as Newark, which sprung up as often as Jamestown, itself mentioned nearly as much as Albany. The agents were listed by number only, as might be expected; the Americans employed a similar system.
The maps Jake had stolen were of even less value, being copies not of places in America but the lost continent of Atlantis.
After a brief and uncharacteristic burst of temper, Jake admitted to himself his plan had failed miserably. And while Culper had already gone to the coffeehouse to work on the problem from there, there was scant hope of quick results. The British were sure to increase their security because of the prison break, and might even guess what the Americans were aiming at. Any information gleaned could easily be part of a plan to throw off the patriots.
Not only had Jake failed to discover the British design, but he had announced to Keen that he was still alive — a development that would complicate his progress and have dire consequences for all who helped him.
Never in all his operations could he remember failing so dismally. And the stakes were incredibly high; Washington himself was counting on him.
The spy heard the general's voice in his head, setting notions into order:
Use your imagination,
the general ordered.
Create a solution. Untie this knot. Create, Jake!
"Alison, I want you to go with Lieutenant Daltoons to the coffeehouse," said Jake abruptly. "Then go where Culper assigns you."
"He wishes to put me into retirement," protested Alison.
"He merely wants you to be safe," said Jake.
"I can do much more good in the city," said Alison. "You see what help I've already been. The fat Dutchman would not have escaped without me."
"I hope you are not referring to me," harrumphed van Clynne as he climbed the stairs back to the loft. "As you are wrong on several counts: I am neither fat, nor was I in need of your assistance." The mug of porter he carried with him was not the highest quality, but acceptable under the circumstances. "I merely delayed my departure long enough to retrieve a map of the area where my land is situated, to assist the good General Washington in recommending my claim to Congress."
"You must go," Jake told her. "For your own good. No arguing."
"If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion," offered van Clynne, "I know a fine housewife on Long Island who would undoubtedly be glad to have her help. She is not Dutch herself, but married into the race. Granted, it is nominally behind the enemy lines, but the farm is safe enough."
"I do not like the Dutch, even by marriage," said Alison. "They are cowards."
"Cowards! After all of my efforts on your behalf!"
The pope would stomach insults to the cross with less emotion than van Clynne showed now, his nose twitching with such fervor that Jake feared he would issue a catastrophic sneeze.
"I will concede that you may be brave," said Alison, retreating half an inch, "though it was I who saved you."
"You have much to learn, young woman," said the squire. "Who plucked whom from the city slop at the side of the street?"
"Please, Claus, you're not helping the situation," said Jake.
"There was a time when proper respect was shown for one's elders," he groused, walking toward a large chair in the corner where he could recover his dignity without further interference. "But mark my words, sir, your plan for gathering information is all wrong."
"Which plan is that?" said Jake.
"Whatever plan you are concocting. Undoubtedly it will entail much slinking about and additional fisticuffs. Brute force is unreliable in these situations. Finesse, sir — that is the Dutch way, tried and true. All you need do is discover the proper person, approach in the light of day, and ask."
"Like your tailor."
"A temporary setback," admitted van Clynne, feeling expansive. "It was the right forest but the wrong pew, the proper church but the wrong tree. The plan remains sound." He settled into the well-cushioned seat and pulled a small stool up for his feet. In truth, properly comfortable chairs had gone out of style thirty years before. This one with its wide wings and broad but firm seat would have to do.
"You have a plan?" Daltoons asked Jake.
"Not yet."
"Culper will be able to solve it, if anyone can."
"I doubt in time. General Washington has a difficult schedule to meet. Perhaps I should row out and ask Howe himself."