Shooting For Justice Read online

  Pope pressed the trigger. The short barrel emitted a crack and a foot of flame. The man flinched and rode ten feet before falling off the horse, headfirst against an iron rail.

  The engineer and conductor both approached Pope. The three of them checked the five on the ground. All dead. They climbed back onto the train.

  Sarah was kneeling beside Hyland, who was regaining consciousness.

  “Are you alright, Tom?” she asked.

  “Things are still swimming around. I should be able to focus in a minute. I do know one thing thought. The treasure is safe. The vault was not opened before you and John opened up.”

  “Gentlemen, we need to remove the saddles from seven horses and bring the saddlebags with us to give to the sheriff in Pueblo. Wouldn’t be right to abandon those horses to fend for themselves with saddles and bridles on,” Pope said.

  The train pulled into Pueblo and Pope, the engineer and the conductor gave a full report to the county sheriff. Sarah sent a telegram to Hume.

  An hour later, the trained rolled out of the station and headed to Kansas City.

  “I guess I have to carry a little bag of cartridges attached to my shoulder holster,” Pope said, once the train was underway and he was ready for a quick nap.

  “Yes. I guess a third gun would be a bit much with a business suit on,” his partner observed.

  “Out of curiosity, what did you tell the boss about our little shoot here?” Pope asked Sarah.

  “Not much. I told him seven robbers hit the train. They were getting ready to shoot the express messenger. We intervened. In the ensuing firefight, you killed four and I killed three. No injury to any civilian or WF employee. No loss of treasure. I told him we figured we had gotten enough exposure and made a report to the sheriff and headed to our original assignment.”

  “Good job, honey. Short and sweet. He won’t recall us to investigate. Nobody left to catch. Our assignment takes precedence over any company business. Thanks for bailing me out back there. I’d be dead meat if it weren’t for you and your alley cleaner.”

  “If I hadn’t, I’d have to find another husband and partner real fast. I have invested a lot in shaping you the way I want you, so it saved me years of looking and changing some fellow.”

  “Sarah, I am so happy you are able to look at it so logically. It certainly signifies true love,” he said.

  “Come here, cowboy. I’ll show you some true love.”

  “Well, if you insist,” he said, losing no time departing one bed for the other.

  During the fourth day of their trip, their third train of the journey pulled into the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station at Sixth and B Streets. Ironically, it was the very location where Charles Guiteau shot President James Garfield less than two years earlier causing the succession of Vice President Chester A. Arthur to president.

  Without any plans, the two detectives asked a hansom cab driver to take them to a hotel near the President’s House. He recommended the Willard. He said President Grant used to enjoy a frequent whiskey in the lobby. He went on to them about people US Grant referred to as “lobbyists” bothering him with their special interests when he was there for a bourbon and cigar.

  Mr. & Mrs. John Pope checked in with no problem, though the room tariff was choking. They decided, since they did not know their cover story yet, they should shoot high.

  Once checked into the hotel, the two detectives had to track down the location of the attorney general. Though his office had been created in the 1700’s and had become a government department thirteen years ago in 1870, the department was scattered all over the general Pennsylvania Avenue area of Washington.

  Sarah subtlety inquired of the concierge at the Willard Hotel about the address of her distant cousin Ben Brewster, who had “some sort of lawyer job in the government”.

  The concierge knew right away and wrote down the address of the post office at 700 F Street. They walked over and checked the Directory Board in the lobby. The attorney general’s office was listed and they walked up the steps.

  Entering, they introduced themselves to a male receptionist as being from San Francisco and having a mutual friend with General Brewster. The man said although the attorney general was in a meeting, he should be through shortly. They were directed to a hard wooden bench to wait.

  They waited almost forty-five minutes before a clean-shaven man in his late sixties came out and introduced himself as Benjamin Brewster.

  “Hello, General Brewster. We are from San Francisco and work for your friend Lloyd Tevis. He said to be sure to look you up when we visited the Capitol.”

  “Oh, yes. He mentioned you to me. You work with his friend Hume?” Brewster asked.

  “We do.”

  “Are you just arriving?” the attorney general asked.

  “We arrived about an hour and a half ago and checked in to the Willard Hotel. We thought it would be convenient until we found a more appropriate accommodation,” Sarah said.

  “A very good choice, for sure. Listen, I would like to chat with you at great length and have a friend who I am sure would like to join us. Are you doing anything for dinner?”

  “We are at your disposal, sir,” Pope said.

  “Why not get a private dining room for four at the hotel for dinner at seven. I will send a messenger over to the friend and see if he is available. Either way, I will join you.”

  “We look forward to it, General Brewster. See you at seven o’clock then,” Pope said, and they shook hands and departed.

  Once they were sure they were clear of unwelcome ears, Pope said quietly to Sarah, “This must be really big, when the attorney general of the United States and another unknown cabinet member drops everything to talk with us.”

  “Yes, it’s kind of scary, actually,” she said.

  They returned to the hotel and went straight back to the concierge. He secured a small dining room for them for the appointed time.

  “Should we dress up?” Pope asked his partner.

  “Let’s stay like we are and play it by ear. We need their input on who we will pretend to be to best discover the scheme behind disrupting or killing Arthur.”

  “After sitting on a train for four days, let’s loosen up by reconnoitering the area. We can stroll like Grandpa did in San Francisco when he was watching out for the kidnappers,” he said, referring to a major case they had solved.

  “Except you have me instead of your hound dog, Scout,” Sarah said.

  “I love you both. But I love you more. He saved me when the Irish gang tried to gun me down in Marin County. I was wounded and he came flying through the air and knocked a man off his horse as he was getting ready to shoot me. However, even Scout’s actions were not as gloriously performed as yours several days ago.”

  “Humph!” was the full response he got.

  They walked around the downtown area. Upon passing a gun store, Pope insisted they walk in.

  “I have been concerned about wearing my large Western Colts under a suit. I suspect few government types here wear guns in town. I don’t worry about my shoulder holster printing in town in Wyoming when wearing a badge. We are supposed to be secret agents here and it would be a bit of a giveaway. I am thinking of picking up a S&W First Model Double-Action in .44 Russian like your larger gun and a deep cover inside the waist holster. One which would not print under a suit, but would still provide a fast draw,” he said.

  He told the manager what he was looking for and the man produced a blue steel model with black rubber grips. Pope asked about stag replacements and he said he would have to order them, which Pope did. He bought the revolver and a leather holster designed to be worn well behind the right front suspender attachment. Pope was aware of several people who had gotten their guns tangled in their braces during their draw and died because of it.

  He bought two boxes of cartridges and they continued their reconnoiter around DC.

  Freshened up a bit and Pope armed with his new revolver, they went down to d
inner fifteen minutes early. While Sarah checked the small dining room they reserved, Pope sauntered around the larger dining room and looked for anything or anyone seemingly out of place or particularly interested. He observed only well-dressed men and some women engaged in quiet conversations or eating. Nothing aroused his attention.

  Pope made a conscious effort to look pleasant and smile a lot. Sarah constantly reminded him he looked like a detective. He knew she was right. In this investigation, a policeman was the last thing he wanted to be taken as. What persona he would adopt may come out tonight. He hoped so. It was important to study and prepare for a cover identity. As a San Francisco detective, he would skip shaving, mess up his hair and put on ragged clothes to portray a bum. He would go home for dinner, get cleaned up and make or buy dinner after as himself. This persona, whatever it might be, would last day and night for the duration of the case. He was anxious to get into it and knew Sarah also was ready.

  Pope returned to the small dining room just before the appointed time. Sarah did not find peepholes or explosive traps. She pointed out the server entry door and said it went, as one might surmise, directly to the kitchen.

  Water, silver and menus were already on the table, which was set for four.

  They heard a tap on the door and two men entered. The first was Brewster. The second, who had to be Lincoln, was a medium height man about forty years old. He was dressed elegantly as befitted one who had become a millionaire as a prominent lawyer. Brewster greeted them with a smile. Lincoln had a pleasant but unsmiling look.

  After introductions were over, they sat. Pope pulled out her chair for Sarah.

  “Thank you both for coming across the country to meet, and hopefully help us. We will have to talk between trips by the waiter. The Willard is “spy central”, according to Robert’s Army agents,” Brewster began.

  “I am sure you have some preliminary questions before we get into the meat of the matter,” Lincoln said.

  “We do, Mr. Secretary,” Pope began.

  “Before you ask anything, please refer to us as Ben and Robert in private and in social events. In our offices, you can be more formal. If it is alright with you, we will call you John and Sarah,” Brewster said. Both detectives nodded.

  “Lastly, everything we discuss is for the ears of the four of us and not to be repeated to anyone at Wells Fargo or anywhere else. Do you agree to this unchangeable requirement?”

  Both said, “I do.”

  “How did you select us? You have military intelligence, treasury agents, and Pinkerton’s. We are glad to serve, but just curious,” Sarah said.

  “I have taken the Western US, indeed almost all, of the country’s newspapers since the death of my father. I am friends with Lafayette Baker who ran the National Credit Bureau. He is convinced my father’s murder was political and if not engineered by people in the government, was at least supported and helped by them. Neither of us are a fan of the short Scotsman from Chicago.”

  “I worked for him and don’t blame you. He is on his last legs and it is unclear what the future capabilities of the company will be here on out,” Sarah said.

  “In those newspapers, I read of first Pope’s, then both, of your investigative and firearms prowess. You are not insiders here. I doubt your fame has spread to the Washington area. I figured you would be able to go undercover and dig with less scrutiny than Pinkertons, treasury agents or similar. Ben agreed with me,” Lincoln said.

  “Ben and Robert, does the president know of whatever threat we will mitigate?” Pope asked.

  “No, he does not,” Brewster said.

  “It occurs to us he may be the best person to reveal known potential threats to us.”

  “I believe you are correct. But we made a pact to keep him on the path of the legislative goals he has and not bother him with other mysterious threats,” Lincoln said.

  “How did you become aware of the threat?” Pope asked.

  “I was on a train, heading to New England,” Lincoln said. “I heard an argument in the next parlor of the car. I listened at the wall. I heard, “We have to get rid of Arthur, either kill him or somehow disgrace him sufficiently to cause his impeachment. We do not have time to mess about deciding which to do. We need to quickly execute a plan,” one of the men said. The other agreed. This occurred as we rolled into an intermediate stop. I planned on getting descriptions as we got off the train, but by the time I gathered my things, they were long gone.”

  “What stop was this?” Sarah asked.

  “Scarsdale, New York.”

  “So, they were the only words you were able to pick up?” Pope asked.

  “Yes. Do you know where they got on the train?” Sarah asked.

  “I believe in New York City. There was a family in the compartment from Washington to New York.”

  “How long was the trip from New York to Scarsdale?” Pope asked.

  “It is a bit over an hour by train, I believe.”

  “Did either of the voices sound familiar?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “How about your estimate of ages, accents and the like?”

  “They were grown men. Not elderly. No discernable accent. They sounded educated. I truly don’t have anything more for you.”

  “Then,” Sarah began, “could the two of you run through a list of what you think might be the reasons for an assassination attempt or coup attempt?”

  “Let me lay some groundwork about Chester Arthur,” Lincoln said.

  “He is a handsome man, those silly sideburns notwithstanding. He became very wealthy and powerful in New York. He’s an attorney and ran the Customs House. He got the job through patronage, something he has tried to do away with since. His actions for merit jobs throughout the federal government have made a number of people angry. People who had their hats set on certain jobs and people who had no qualifications and just wanted to be given a job gratis. He is aloof but can be charming when necessary. His greatest two traits are he is very smart, and he supports legislation according to his ethics. Most politicians legislate driven by political reasons. His ideas on immigration and Chinese and everyone else’s civil rights would have thrilled my father. He is converting our sad, small, and obsolete Navy to one which will be world class. He is converting from wooden ships to steel-hulled ones. There is a bit of grumbling about steel versus wood even by some admirals. The same type chaps who think single shot rifles are better than repeaters. As good as modernizing the Navy may seem, a number of people are angry over the funding for the Navy instead of their pet interests.

  “He was connected very closely with a man named Roscoe Conkling. Conkling is an arch conservative called a Stalwart. He ran patronage in New York and has always been for harsher, more punitive treatment for the South. He has wanted Arthur to put him in the Cabinet, but the man he mentored in politics has refused. Conkling is a dangerous foe.”

  Both detectives had been writing notes as the secretary of war spoke.

  “So, we have a major political boss not only disagreeing with him but feeling betrayed. Related, Southern power brokers in politics and elsewhere may consider Arthur an enemy. We have people whose agendas are negatively impacted by the financial rebuilding of the US Navy. Perhaps, anger resides in the heads of the Army, especially generals. We have anti-civil rights people against him. Particularly, I would think, railroad tycoons who virtually use Chinese immigrants as slave labor. In addition to Conkling, we probably have many job seekers and political bosses who pass out federal jobs as part of their power base, mad about his merit system,” Pope summarized.

  “It’s a good start,” Brewster said.

  “It strikes me any of those could lead to attempted assassination or coup of some sort,” Sarah thought aloud.

  “We agree, though this is the first time Robert and I have listed them,” Brewster said.

  “We have our work cut out for us, gentlemen. Have you given thought to cover positions to allow us to begin?” Pope asked.

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p; “We have one for you but have had difficulty coming up with a plausible job for Sarah,” Brewster admitted.

  “John, I would like to make you Provost Marshal for the secretary of war’s office,” Lincoln said. It is a senior level, non-appointed position. The salary is high enough to help cover your wife’s time. Since your emphasis would be base and personnel security and investigations, your job history would tie in. It would give you reason to travel widely as needed. It carries a badge and certain arrest authorities and the ability to be armed anywhere. Of course, both of you would be covered for expenses.”

  Lincoln handed Pope a badge and told him to raise his right hand. Minutes later, he was a civilian Army Provost Marshal at a colonel level.

  “Sarah, Robert and I cannot figure how to position you in this operation. We know you are an experienced and noted investigator,” Brewster said.

  “How about just as John’s wife who is writing a book on President Arthur? Book research would cover me asking lots of questions, going to libraries and the like.”

  “Excellent! We may even be able to work an interview with the president where you can ask historical questions without giving away the threat,” the attorney general said.

  “I could absolutely question him without him having the slightest idea I have an ulterior motive,” Sarah said confidently.

  “General Brewster, would you prepare a letter of introduction for me, explaining I am doing some research for your office? The letter would facilitate getting into some offices and asking for files.”

  “Of course. I will have it prepared and sent over to your hotel room first thing tomorrow,” the attorney general said.

  “The president and his sister, who is social director since his wife died, are having a cocktail party three days from now. I will make sure you get an invitation. Be advised the party will be formal wear. It will be in the President’s House.”

  “We will be there!” Pope said.

  “Gentlemen, we have two separate sets of issues here. Assassination and having him removed from office under false pretenses. What precautions have been taken relative to the first?” Pope asked.