Swindled!: The 1906 Journal of Fitz Morgan (17 page)

Judge’s grin widened. “Well, now that that’s settled, we have a mystery to solve.”

I nodded, and the three of turned back to the baggage car door. Using the deafening sound of the brakes as cover, I opened
the door a crack and peered inside.

I had only seen Agent Howard in a semiconscious state and later in a coma, so it was strange to see him standing in the center
of the luggage- and crate-filled room. Like Judge, he looked tired. His clothes were rumpled and his handlebar mustache drooped
slightly, but otherwise, he appeared fit. Even odder was the group of five people who surrounded him.

Each of them wore black hoods that covered their heads and faces. They held bills and they were looking at them through one
of the three lenses that were attached to their hoods.

I took in all this in half a second. I was about to cry out and warn Agent Howard that he was in danger. People do not wear
hoods unless they are trying to hide something. But just as I was about to shout, “Stay away from him,” the agent spoke, and
his words shocked me into silence.

“Remember to keep your gloves on at all times while handling the bills. The ink should be dry now, but it’s better not to
take chances–I speak from experience.”

No! A voice cried in my head. Agent Howard was working against the law!

He tapped his foot impatiently and shouted above the shrieking brakes of the train, “Well, what do you think? We have to move
along quickly. This car will be flooded with porters retrieving luggage for passengers in no time!”

The hooded figures began nodding their heads, and I could hear them saying “Excellent work” and “Genius.”

“How do we know you won’t fail us again?” a female voice said from within one of the hoods. “We don’t want another incident
like the MAINE.”

“Right,” another of the hooded figures chimed in. “Howard, you assured us the explosives from that ship would be used to destroy
the central bank in Cuba–and that the counterfeit money would easily replace real money in the confusion.”

“We’ve gone through this already!” Agent Howard said. “It’s not my fault the explosives meant to carry out our plan destroyed
MAINE. It was an accident. Things will be different when you destroy the bank here in San Francisco.” He looked at his pocket
watch anxiously. “All that’s left is for you to pay me for forging millions of dollars for you.”

As I watched through the crack in the door, a hooded figure stepped forward. A few long, black hairs had escaped from under
the hood. Handing Agent Howard a suitcase, she said, “Your payment is inside this case.”

Agent Howard’s face broke into a triumphant grin. “At last!” he said. His hand touched the handle of the suitcase–and suddenly
the baggage car was a blur of activity! One of the hooded figures tore off his mask. I gasped. It was my brother, Killian!
No! Is he one of the bad guys, too?

As if to answer that question, Killian rushed forward and slapped handcuffs on Agent Howard, shouting, “You are all under
arrest!”

In a flash, the long outside doors of the baggage car were rolled open. A spooky, yellow glow from the electric light over
the large station clock cast long shadows of the people approaching on the platform.

“Federal agents! Don’t move!” A swarm of men jumped on board the train, holding up badges and guns.

Without thinking, I opened the door all the way. William Henry, Judge, and I took a few steps into the baggage car, drawn
to the action like moths to a flame. Men were pushing and shoving, agents were tearing the hoods off the figures.

“Mr. Spike?” William Henry said as the bald head of his boss emerged from one of the hoods. Mr. Spike! I thought. That’s why
he didn’t want to launch a real investigation. He’s one of the criminals!

Agents were leading two handcuffed men out the large side door and off the train. But wait! Where was the hooded woman?

My eyes scanned the back of the room. I spotted her moving among the shadows, making her way to a position behind my brother.
From the way she was slinking, I knew she was preparing to attack him.

I took a step forward. William Henry grabbed me, trying to hold me back. I yelled, “Killian! Watch out!”

For a moment time seemed to stand still. Killian’s head swiveled, and he stared at me in utter surprise… The hooded woman
behind him froze… The other agents stopped… Outside there was a
kerdunk!
as the station clock clicked over to 5:13 AM.…

And then I began to shake. No! I thought. No! I can’t faint again… not now! But I realized it wasn’t just my body that was
shaking. The entire baggage car was rocking. Outside the open doors, people on the platform were thrown around as if they
were rag dolls.

It was an earthquake!

Even though the earth beneath us rolled and heaved like a stormy ocean, the woman kept her feet. She ran swiftly toward the
baggage car door. My brother spun to stop her but lost his balance and fell.

The woman zigzagged, passing within feet of us as she sprinted to the door. Judge darted forward and caught the back of the
woman’s hood, ripping it off her head. The woman shoved her, and Judge was thrown back against the wall. William Henry rushed
to her side.

I gaped at the person Judge had unveiled. It was Rabella Notabe.

She dashed to the wide doorway and paused there for a moment. She screamed above the chaos, “You’ll be sorry for this! Each
and every one of you!” But she was looking only at Judge and me. Then she jumped out the wide door and disappeared into the
darkness.

Not as steady on his feet, Agent Howard started to follow her out the door.

“Oh no, you don’t!” I said.

My next act might not reflect my training as an expert detective, but it was quite effective.

I stuck out my foot.

Agent Howard tripped. Once again, I managed to keep him from leaving the train. He tumbled, hit his head, and collapsed unconscious
into a corner.

The earthquake raged on.

Awful tearing sounds exploded around us. The track buckled and sent the baggage car tilting to the side. Outside, the wooden
structures of the station simply collapsed into themselves like houses made of toothpicks. Two agents huddled by their prisoners,
and a third stumbled over to Agent Howard to handcuff him.

Wham!

A telegraph pole snapped and tumbled on top of the train with so much force that it crushed part of the baggage car. The roof
over Killian caved in, and he disappeared from view.

“Killian!” I screamed. William Henry rushed over and tried to hold me back, but I ran into the dust-filled darkness. To find
my brother and lose him again in one day was more than I could stand!

“Elizabeth,” I heard Killian answer, calling me by my real name.

I followed his voice and found him buried among the scattered bags and wreckage. His legs were trapped under a massive trunk
and heavy, jagged pieces of the roof. Even at this awkward angle, we managed to hug.

“What a sight you are, Elizabeth…” His voice trailed off in a hoarse whisper. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You’re alive!” I hugged him again.

Suddenly, finally, as if someone had turned off a switch, there was silence.

The earthquake was over. For now. I knew there could be aftershocks just as deadly as the quake itself.

The intense quiet quickly filled with the moaning of injured men and women and the groaning of structures that were in danger
of collapsing. William Henry and Judge made their way over to us, and we began working to free my brother from the debris.

“But, Killian, what are you doing here?” I asked, hoping to distract him from the pain of his injured legs.

“Yes, Elizabeth,” he said. “I owe you an explanation, even though it is against the rules.

“I work for the United States Secret Service,” he continued. “Our main mission is to crack this counterfeit ring. We called
it the Calamity Crew. The Crew created disasters–like explosions. Then, while authorities were busy dealing with the disaster,
the Crew switched real money with counterfeit bills.”