Bell was listening with half attention, pondering the Wrecker’s plan. Where would he attack now that they had all bases covered? And what, Bell wondered, had he himself missed? The grim answer was that whatever he missed, the Wrecker would see.
The orchestra had struck up a raucous “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad,” and Abbott nudged Bell again.
“Look. They put our client in the act.”
The burlesque comedians were posing in front of a painted backdrop of a Southern Pacific locomotive steaming up behind them as if about to run them over. Even paying half attention, it was clear that the comedian in colonial dress cavorting on a hobby horse was supposed to be Paul Revere. His costar in engineer’s striped cap and overalls represented Southern Pacific Railroad president Osgood Hennessy.
Paul Revere galloped up, waving a telegram.
“Telegram from the United States Senate, President Hennessy.”
“Hand it over, Paul Revere!” Hennessy snatched it from the horseman and read aloud, “‘Please, sir, telegraph instructions. You forgot to tell us how to vote.”’
“What are your instructions to the senators, President Hennessy?”
“The railroad is coming. The railroad is coming.”
“How should they vote?”
“One if by land.”
“Shine one lantern in the steeple if the railroad comes by land?”
“Bribes, dummkopf! Not lanterns. Bribes!”
“How many bribes by sea?”
“Two if by-”
Isaac Bell leaped from his seat.
24
IN THE DARK HOLD OF THE STEAM LIGHTER LILLIAN I, WONG Lee was finishing his intricate wiring by the light of an Eveready wooden bicycle lantern powered by three dry cell “D” batteries. Wong Lee was grateful for it, recalling with no nostalgia the old days of connecting dynamite fuses by the light of an open flame. Thank the gods for electricity, which provided light to work by and power to ignite detonators with uncanny precision.
ISAAC BELL EXITED THE Jardin de Paris through the canvas rain curtains and pounded down a steel stairway attached to the outside of the Hammerstein Theater. He landed in an alley and ran to Broadway. It was two blocks to the Knickerbocker Hotel. The sidewalks were jammed with people. He darted into the street, dodging traffic, raced downtown, tore through the lobby of the Knickerbocker, and bounded up the stairs to the Van Dorn Agency, reached under the startled front man’s desk for the secret door-lock switch, and burst into the back room.
“I want Eddie Edwards on the powder pier. Which is the telephone line to Jersey City?”
“Number one, sir. Like you ordered.”
Bell picked up the telephone and clicked repeatedly.
“Get me Eddie Edwards.”
“That you, Isaac? Are you bringing us home a Follies girl?”
“Listen to me, Eddie. Move the Vickers machine gun so you can cover the water as well as the main gate.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Those five powder cars block the field of fire. I can cover one or the other, but not the gate and the water both.”
“Then get another machine gun. In case he attacks from the water.”
“I’m trying to borrow one from the Army, but it ain’t gonna happen tonight. Sorry, Isaac. What if I put a couple of riflemen on the end of the pier?”
“You say the powder cars block the field of fire? Put your machine gun on top of them.”
“On top of them?”
“You heard me. Position your machine gun on top of the dynamite cars so they can swivel the gun in either direction. That way, they can cover the gate and the water. On the jump, Eddie. Do it now!”
Bell cradled the earpiece with great relief. That was what he had forgotten. The water. An attack by boat. He grinned at the other detectives, who had been listening avidly.
“Manning an automatic machine gun on top of a dynamite train ought to be plenty incentive to stay awake,” he said.
He sauntered back to the theater, feeling much less worried, and slipped into his seat just as the curtain came down on the Follies’ first act.
“What was that all about?” Abbott asked.
“If the Wrecker decides to attack from the water, he’s going to run head-on into a Vickers automatic machine gun.”
“Good thinking, Isaac. So now you can relax by introducing me to your friend.”
“Senator Kincaid?” Bell asked innocently. “I wouldn’t call him a friend. We played a little draw, but …”
“You know who I mean, you son of a gun. I am referring to the Southern Pacific Helen of Troy whose gorgeous face launched twelve steamboats.”
“She strikes me as much too intelligent to fall for a Princeton man.”
“She’s getting into the elevator! Come on, Isaac!”
Crowds of people were waiting for the elevators. Bell led Abbott through the canvas rain curtains, down the outside stairway, and into the cavernous lobby on the ground floor that served all three theaters in the building.
“There she is!”
Lillian Hennessy and Senator Kincaid were surrounded by admirers. Women were vying to shake his hand while their husbands elbowed one another trying to make Lillian’s acquaintance. It was doubtful that their wives noticed or even cared. Bell saw two of them slip their calling cards surreptitiously into Kincaid’s pocket.
Taller than most, and experienced in barroom brawls and riot control, the Van Dorn detectives parted the crush like a squadron of battleships. Lillian smiled at Bell.
Bell focused his gaze on Kincaid and Kincaid looked his way with a friendly wave.
“Isn’t the show wonderful?” the Senator called over heads as Bell drew near. “I love the theater. You know, I heard you talking with Kenny Bloom about running off to the circus. For me, it was the stage instead of the circus. I always wanted to be an actor. I even ran off with a touring company, before sanity prevailed.”
“Like my good friend Archie Abbott here. Archie, meet Senator Charles Kincaid, a fellow thwarted thespian.”
“Good evening, Senator,” Abbott said, extending his hand politely but missing Kincaid’s hand entirely as he gaped at Lillian.
“Oh, hello, Lillian,” said Bell casually. “May I present my old friend Archibald Angel Abbott?”
Lillian started to bat her eyes in the style of Anna Held. But it seemed as if something she saw in Abbott’s face made her look again. He had compelling gray eyes, and Bell saw them working full steam to keep her attention. Her gaze traversed the scars on Abbott’s brow and took in his red hair and sparkling smile. Kincaid said something to her, but she did not seem to hear as she looked Abbott squarely in the face and said, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Abbott. Isaac has told me all about you.”
“Not all, Miss Hennessy, or you would have fled the room.”
Lillian laughed, Archie preened, and the Senator looked very displeased.
Bell used the excuse of the poker debt to nudge Kincaid away from Archie and Lillian. “I did enjoy our game of draw. And it was a pleasure to receive your calling card, but a check for the amount written on it would stir even better memories.”
“My check will be here tomorrow,” Kincaid replied affably. “You’re still at the Yale Club?”
“Until further notice. And you, Senator? Will you be in New York a while or are you off to Washington?”
“Actually, I’m leaving for San Francisco in the morning.”
“Isn’t the Senate in session?”
“I am chairman of a subcommittee conducting a hearing in San Francisco about the Chinese problem.” He looked around at the mobs of theatergoers trying to catch his attention, took Bell’s elbow, and lowered his voice. “Between us poker players, Mr. Bell, the hearing will mask my true purpose for traveling to San Francisco.”
“And what is that?”
“I’ve been persuaded by a select group of California businessmen to listen to them implore me to run for president.” He winked con spiratorially. “They offered to take me on a camping trip in the redwoods. You can imagine what little pleasure a former bridge builder takes in sleeping out of doors. I told them I would prefer one of their fabled western resort lodges. Antlers, stuffed grizzly bears, pine logs… and indoor plumbing.”