Circle of Spies (45 page)

“Osborne!”

Blast.

Osborne no doubt had the same thought, but he covered it well. His fingers relaxed, and his face moved into its usual mask of wary watchfulness. He turned his mount toward where Hughes stood, a hand lifted.

He didn't look concerned at finding Osborne there, though the glare he sent Walker could have set fire to a bucket of water. “Bringing your dog to work now, Osborne?”

Though he shifted in his saddle, Oz made no reply. Just measured Hughes in the way that said
Get to your point
.

He did, his gaze back to welcome when he turned to Osborne. “I didn't expect you so soon. The courier must have been eager for a tip. You didn't leave Mari alone, did you?”

Though Osborne must wonder why Hughes had sent a courier to fetch him, he didn't so much as blink out of turn. “Her brothers are there.”

“Ah, good. Well, your friend is waiting in my office.” He motioned toward the building but headed in the opposite direction. “Take your time. I have inspections to conduct.”

His friend? He no doubt had plenty of them, but the only one Walker had ever heard him mention was Herschel. That would be an answer to an unspoken prayer.

After securing their horses, Walker followed Osborne into the building and down the hall to an office that screamed money with dark woods and soft leather. Osborne strode in with no hesitation, though he came to an abrupt halt only three steps in.

A man stood inside staring at a painting, but it sure wasn't Herschel. And if the lack of response from Oz were any indication, whoever it was wasn't someone he had expected to see.

“Kaplan?”

The stranger turned, but no light entered his eyes. Nothing but animosity. Strange. Why seek him out for a visit if he didn't actually want to see him? “Osborne.” His gaze flicked to Walker, but he apparently didn't deem him worth a greeting. “Your new boss seemed real pleased with your work. Told me to pass along to Pinkerton how well he trains us.”

Us
. Another detective, then. Though the way he and Osborne stared bullets at each other, Hughes obviously hadn't chosen a good word when he called him a “friend.”

Osborne didn't say a thing.

Kaplan aimed a stream of tobacco juice at a spittoon and pulled a wrinkled paper from his pocket. “Hersh asked me to deliver this personally. I wouldn't have if I didn't owe him a favor.”

A breath of dry laughter puffed from Oz's lips. “And here I thought you came for tea.” He reached for the paper and then frowned. “You read it.”

“What do I look like, a fool? No way was I going to be party to anything underhanded, if you'd managed to turn him somehow.”

Walker leaned into the wall. Turn him? What, did this guy think Osborne was here, working with Hughes and the KGC, because he wanted to be?

Possible. Possible indeed that none of his former friends knew about his cover. The first rule Mr. Lane had taught him as a Culper was that safety lay in anonymity. The fewer who knew what an intelligencer was about, the better.

Kaplan waved a hand. “No secret, though. Pinkerton had a new job for him and sent him away. Don't know where or for how long, and that doesn't say neither. But that last part?” He leaned over, jabbed a finger at the bottom of the page. “About me being the one most likely to listen to any other ‘advice' you have? He's dead wrong on that.”

Osborne inhaled, the long and deep kind meant to instill patience. “Kap…I don't know what my brother did or said to you. But please, you have to listen.”

“No, I don't.” As if to prove it, he grabbed the hat sitting on Hughes's desk and shoved it on his head. “I promised Hersh I'd give you the letter, and I gave you the letter. Duty done, favor repaid, that's it.”

Osborne slid over a step, between Kaplan and the door. “Just hear me out. The KGC intends to act. Soon. Kidnap the president and all the important cabinet members besides. If you can just make sure he goes to Fort Sumter like they say he might, that would stymie them.”

With a grunt of incredulous laughter, Kaplan shoved past him. “If that's what you want, then you can be sure I'll advise the opposite.”

“Kap,
please
.” Osborne grabbed at his arm, hopeless fury in his face. “Just look at me. Look me in the eye.”

Something shifted in Kaplan's expression too. Went from animosity to resignation. “That's the problem, Osborne. I looked you in the eye every day and never had a clue who I was seeing. I don't know you.” He pulled free. “I don't know if I ever did.”

Osborne didn't make another attempt to detain him. He just stood there working his jaw and staring after him, crushing the letter in his hand.

Walker cleared his throat. “Interesting friend, Oz.”

Smoothing out the paper again, Osborne shook his head. “Did I ever mention I had a twin?”

A twin. All sorts of possibilities rose up then, in light of that conversation. “Nope.”

“Apparently I never mentioned it to them either.” He slid the letter into his pocket and met Walker's gaze, straight and unwavering. “Thanks to him, I don't have many friends left.”

“Well.” Funny how brothers could be sometimes. Some were like the Arnauds, sticking together no matter what, through disagreement and distance. Some…weren't. “I guess it's a good thing you've made some new ones here then.”

A flare of his nostrils was the only indication of feeling. But it was enough. “It is.”

Walker turned to the door, eager to get out of Hughes's lair. He led the way back into the warm spring sunshine without any difficulty, but then he let Osborne take the lead.

They zigzagged around, always with a gait that spoke of purpose. Though if Osborne had a method to his route, Walker couldn't detect it. Maybe they were his usual rounds. He didn't volunteer anything, and Walker didn't ask. No doubt he was still mulling over the confrontation with Kaplan, and a man needed some silence to mull.

Apparently it didn't distract him, though. He came to a halt at the exact moment Walker did, when a familiar top hat came into view. Of one accord, they plastered themselves to the side of a box car before Hughes could spot them.

“That's where he keeps his private car,” Osborne murmured. He peeked around the corner and came back with narrowed eyes. “He has a few freight cars there too. Strange.”

Walker did a quick survey of the area. “If we can get over to that caboose, we might get a better look.”

“My thought too.” He peeked out again, holding a hand up. When he motioned with it a moment later, Walker took his cue to follow, stealthy as a shadow, to a better position.

Hughes had opened one of the freight cars, the hefty lock still swaying from the door's slide. He was even then disappearing into the interior, though he reemerged quickly, marking something upon the paper
in his hands. Then he shut the door again, fastened the lock, and slid the key into his pocket.

Walker hugged the caboose's wall until the crunch of Hughes's shoes on the gravel faded. He looked over at Osborne. “Did you see what I saw in there?”

“Crates of guns.” Osborne exhaled. “Looked like ammunition too. Not good.”

“You think he's storing them for use here or means to move them?”

Osborne shook his head. “Surely if he intended some sort of riot here, the Knights would all be involved. But where else would he be taking them?”

“Maybe they were intended for the Confederate troops. Before the surrender.”

That made sense, but Oz's head kept on shaking. “It doesn't feel right. They must be tied to whatever else he's been doing. I've read through so much of his stuff at this point, surely the pieces are there. I just can't quite put them together.”

Walker held his breath and waited for some other answer, any other answer, to come to mind. None did. “You could ask Yetta for help.”

Osborne's eyes went dark as midnight. “No.”

“I know you don't want to get her involved. But her memory is…good. She could help.”

“If by
good
you mean perfect, then yeah, I know. But the answer is still no.” He pivoted and headed in the direction opposite Hughes's.

“She told you?” Surprise had him lurching to catch up.

Apparently so obvious an observation didn't warrant an answer. Osborne said nothing for a solid minute as they walked. Then he sucked in a deep breath. “I know she could help. I know she would. But I can't ask it. I can't risk her.”

Walker understood that. He'd sooner die than bring Cora into any of this mess. But then, Cora wasn't in a position to stop a monster. Marietta was. “What if it comes down to no other way?”

Again silence answered him. But this time, it seemed to say Osborne knew well that it was a decent question. He just didn't like it.

Twenty-Nine

S
lade closed the prayer book and returned it to his pocket, but peace still eluded him. He had tossed and turned all night. He had risen before dawn, fallen to his knees, and prayed everything he could think to pray, begging the Lord for answers. But the vise around his chest wouldn't ease.

“Are you all right?” Marietta's delicate fingers rested on his arm, a quiet demand for his attention.

He looked up and wondered when Barbara and Mrs. Hughes had left the room. The fact that he didn't know made his brows knit. His job was to know, to watch, even when doing something else. If he was failing at that today, then something had to change.

His gaze made its way to Marietta's face, and the vise went tighter. “Hmm?”

“You are brooding,” she accused. Then she smiled. “More than usual.”

Because he couldn't help it, he smiled. And because he had no right to smile, it vanished. She was still too beautiful, too able to use it to her advantage, but if she were still just that, this wouldn't bother him. He wouldn't care, more than in a general sense, how she fared when all this was done.

But he did. Because she was too much more than beautiful, and he was far, far too aware of it.

If only there were another way.

There wasn't. “Yetta.” He moved the arm under her fingers, caught them in his, and urged her to sit on the couch beside him. “How good are you at puzzles?”

She sank to the cushion, her green eyes narrowing. “Good, unless they are too complex. When too many memories clamor, it takes time to sort through them all. Why?”

Why indeed? Why was he even considering laying all his cards on the table and asking her to build his hand?

He knew the answer. Because she could help, and he needed it. Because if he didn't figure this out now, he would never make right Ross's wrongs.

Why, then, did he hesitate?

But he knew that answer too. Because he wasn't so sure, anymore, what mattered more to him. Bringing down the Knights of the Golden Circle or protecting Marietta Arnaud Hughes.

He kissed her hand but then released it. At this point, he couldn't do either without her help. “Do you still want to see the castle?”

Her eyes went wide, her lips parted. “You changed your mind?”

He stood and held out a hand to help her up too. “I'm running out of time. I still don't think it's a great idea for your sake, but…I need you.”

Her fingers already resting in his, she paused. “Has something happened?”

“Yeah.” Once she was on her feet again, he led her from the room and across the hall to Hughes's study. They might as well start where she left off. “Booth says we should be ready to move within the next couple of days.”

Her hand went tight around his. “The plan is still to kidnap the president?”

“In theory.” He closed the study door behind them, knowing his worry shone in his eyes. “They are so desperate, though, with the news of defeat upon them. I've always feared they may decide on a simpler approach.”

“You don't mean…” Her skirts swished to a halt as he fiddled with
the hidden latch. “No one has ever assassinated a president. Surely they won't either.”

If only he could be sure. But the suspicion had redoubled since he received that note from Booth yesterday. It hadn't just said to be ready for the agreed-upon plan. It had said to be ready for whatever was required. “Pray you're right about that, Yetta. Pray it with every beat of your heart.”

The panel popped forward, and he slid it open while Marietta lit the lantern. She handed it to him with solemn eyes. “I will pray. I will ask Barbara and my family to pray without giving them specifics. And I will do anything I can to help you.”

“I know.” For the first time that day, a zephyr of peace touched his spirit. The last time he stood with her on these stairs, he wasn't convinced she was on his side. Now it was one of the few things he trusted. He led the way down into the cellar. “There are some things here you didn't see last time. After that, we'll head to the castle entrance.”