Ethan Saunders
A new morning met me in New York. Leonidas and I breakfasted together, and I informed him we would waste no time in pressing forward. To that end, I said we would spend the day-unless something of greater interest revealed itself-in the Merchants’ Coffeehouse, which I knew from my time living in this city to be the financial center of New York. At the corner of Wall and Water streets, the Merchants’ was a handsome structure in the New York style, bold on the outside, spacious within. The taproom of this establishment was commodious and comfortable, with several fireplaces and a surplus of candles to keep the place well lit. It was filled by a wide variety of gentleman, most of whom appeared to me to be too old and too fat to warrant much respect.
Leonidas garnered a few curious looks from those uncomfortable with the notion of socializing with Negroes, and he suggested he return to our rooms. I would not let him go. “I need to have someone to speak to. I do better thinking when I can speak my ideas aloud.”
“Then you may hire a whore to sit and talk with you, if it is all the same.”
“Don’t be so sensitive. You are like a jilted lover. In any event, you must know by now that you are more than a person with whom I can engage in dialogue. You are proving to be a very capable spy yourself, Leonidas.”
He appeared pleased with my saying it. “But what of the looks? The traders don’t like a Negro here.”
“Even stronger than their dislike is their greed and indifference. If there were one of those instructional books, an Every Man His Own Spy or something of that nature, one of the chapters would certainly instruct you to act, everywhere you go, as if you belong there. That, more than anything else, will keep you safe. Now, let us see what sort of trouble we can cause. You there.” I grabbed a passing trader. “Is it true that the Million Bank launches next week?”
He snorted. “Yes, but what of it? The Million Bank is a sham, a scheme rooted in political mischief and greed. No one but a fool will waste his money upon it.”
I affected a look of surprise “Are you certain? I know for a fact that Duer means to invest heavily. Can the great Duer be mistaken?”
Something changed upon the man’s face. “You are certain of that?”
“From the man’s lips himself,” I said.
“Then for God’s sake, tell no one else,” he said, and hurried off.
“There will always be a storm,” I told Leonidas. “You may be rained upon or cause the rain yourself. I very much prefer the latter.”
“What do you imagine he prefers?” Leonidas asked, pointing to a table across the room.
Drinking coffee, with an expression of utter seriousness, was my old friend Kyler Lavien.
He was alone at his table, so Leonidas and I sat down to join him. “Good afternoon, Leonidas, Captain Saunders. What are you doing here?”
“You know what I’m doing here,” I said. “I’m looking for Pearson.”
He smiled. “I understand that you have good reason to do so, and he has good reason to fear your finding him, but that doesn’t explain why you went out to Greenwich to see Duer.”
“You know about that?”
He leaned forward. “I know about everything, at least in the end. I want you to stay away from Duer.”
“Duer is my best chance of finding Pearson. There is something improper in their dealings, but they do business together somehow, and, at least for Pearson, it is a desperate business. If I stir things up for Duer sufficiently, Pearson will emerge.”
“If I can find out anything about where Pearson is, I shall tell you.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, “but I trust you won’t mind if I continue to look on my own.”
“As it happens, I do mind. There are things in play now-delicate things. I cannot risk your acting on your own.”
“Then bring me in,” I said. “Tell me what you do.”
“I have not permission for that. You of all men must understand that I am in a difficult position. Were it in my power to trust you, I would. But I must act alone, and you must stay away from anything involving the Million Bank, stay away from anything involving the Bank of the United States, and stay away from Duer.” He rose. “You and I have been friends, Saunders, but do not test me on this. You know what I am capable of. Good day.”
Leonidas watched him leave. “He is unhappy.”
“Rather unkind of him to take out his frustration on us, don’t you think?” I signaled the boy to place our orders, but he did not come over. Instead, an older man in a very dirty apron manifested himself and came to our table. “Are you named Saunders?” he asked.
Leonidas stiffened considerably in his chair. I don’t know what he made ready for, but I suppose after ten years in my service he knew that any time a stranger recognized me, it might well mean trouble.
I told the man I was indeed who he thought, but there was nothing threatening in him. He was, in fact, naught but smiles. “Very good, sir. I’m meant to inform you that your orders, sir, for drinks only-spirituous drinks, you understand-are to be paid for at no charge to you. May I send you a bottle of our best claret, sir?”
“Yes, that would be very good. Better make it two,” I said.
“Ah, very good, sir. Your wine shall be with you anon.” He bowed and retreated backward for a few steps, as though afraid I might attack him if he turned away.
“Duer means to keep you drunk,” Leonidas said.
“Obviously.”
“He is clearly afraid of the damage you might do to him.”
“Certainly.”
“And what shall you do about it?”
“Drink his wine and then do the damage.”
T o the accompaniment of some very good wine indeed, we spent several hours watching small trades transpire about us. At 3 P.M. there was a mass exodus into one of the Merchants’ long rooms, where an auction in government securities was conducted by a man named John Pintard. It was a raucous and loud affair, and things happened far too quickly for me to understand who sold and who bought. Duer did not himself attend, but I noticed the unusually tall Isaac Whippo standing toward the back of the room, carefully observing each transaction.
After this, we retired back to the taproom, as did many of the speculators. The auction seemed to be only the most orderly and organized of the day’s activities, for the real trading took place afterward in comfort and semiprivacy.
Whippo left after the auction, which I considered to my advantage. I did not want him around to see me work my business. It had been of some value to sit and watch, to listen to men talk. It was an even greater advantage to invite them to talk with me, using the excellent free wine as an incentive. I decided it would be wrong of me, very wrong, not to use Duer’s assault upon my perceived weakness against him, and I spread it about that I was willing to share my bounty with any man willing to share information about Duer. No one precisely lined up, but as soon as one man left my table, another was willing to take his place. I listened to what each had to say and would ask the occasional question about Pearson, though this yielded little fruit. Some knew who he was and had seen him in New York, though not recently. Some asserted he worked with Duer, but none could say to what end or in what capacity.
I did hear a great deal about Duer, though, much of it contradictory. The Million Bank was indeed upon everyone’s lips, and while most men had absorbed the message Duer wished them to receive-that this project was a fiscal disaster in the making-I was also pleased to hear repeated back to me the very rumor I had spread that morning: that the Million Bank was poised to be a major enterprise, and that Duer himself had invested heavily.
I had been at my project almost two hours, and growing weary of it, when a shadow crossed over my table and a vaguely familiar voice greeted me. The man himself was uncompelling in stature, losing his hair precipitously, and dressed finely in a new suit of light blue material. It took a moment, but then I recognized him, for I’d met him at the Bingham house. This was the new senator from New York, Colonel Aaron Burr.