Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

“I know you have to get back on the case. Rita and I will head out. I fear I will indulge your hospitality a bit longer having smelled May’s breakfast for four.”

“Of course. You and Rita are welcome anytime. I really mean it,” Pope said.

“You all did not mention her maiden name,” Kane said.

“We knew it before you arrived. We figured if you or she wanted to talk about it, you would.”

“I appreciate your concerns. It’s really not as touchy a subject as you might think. One day, we will fill you and Sarah in,” Kane said.

“I will continue to poke around among my sources and let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks, Michael. I will give you my telegraph address at the War office and the telephone here before you go. Day or night is fine. You and I both seem to have the capability to awaken and be ready to operate, no matter the hour.”

“We do,” Kane agreed sincerely.

May called them out for breakfast.

Sarah and Rita were already seated, in robes but with hair fixed for the day.

They ate and chatted, then the men went out and harnessed the Andalusians for the trip back to Charlottesville. At Sarah’s suggestion, May made a picnic lunch for their trip home.

They were off at eight, leaving Pope and Sarah to summarize events already sleepily mentioned.

“I need to tie up the maritime angle by going down to Lexington and talk with the professor there. I think what we have to concentrate on now is dissident groups. People perhaps unrelated to the original lists of suspects. Political dissidents,” Pope said.

“I will start today on the idea of political dissidents and see what I can learn,” Sarah said.

“I will head to Lexington. I am not sure what trains are available. I know it’s down the Valley Road. It runs the length of the Shenandoah Valley, I think. Andrew Jackson’s foot cavalry went up and down it during the war. Depending on transportation, I may be back tonight or tomorrow. I will call the War office and let Lincoln know where I am.”

Pope put his notebook, toothbrush and some clean clothes in a leather satchel and headed to the train depot. Sarah had more time to prepare before the library opened.

He arrived at the newly completed depot in Lexington late in the afternoon. He walked the distance to Virginia Military Institute.

Pope located Professor John Blake in his office. The man was expecting him from a telegram from Kane.

“I have been the so-called expert in maritime matters since the death of my friend Maury about a decade ago. No one will ever have his breadth of knowledge,” Blake told Pope. “Matthew Fontaine Maury had both real and intellectual experience.”

“Professor, I have been asked by Washington officials to look into impact on converting to a steel hull navy. One of the things concerning me is how the various participants in the construction chain are reacting. From the suppliers of wood and steel to the marine architects, to the workers and their unions,” Pope said, stopping so Blake could answer however he wished.

“As I told Michael Kane, there is little discord which might cause trouble. At least, as far as I have heard. The marine lumber builders and transporters will still supply to commercial interests. Since the Navy owns the greater part of the lumber supply with their live oak reservations, there is only small commercial impact.

“Everyone involved knows steel hulls are the way of the future. The transition now may be inconvenient for some, but it’s inevitable.”

“Professor Blake, have you heard any chatter in the industry the government should be concerned about. Threats, for example?” Pope asked.

“None at all. I have attended meetings and conferences about the subject. Industry representatives from every aspect of what you correctly identify as the ‘construction chain’ were represented. I have read virtually every available article on the subject. For one reason, it will affect what and how I teach. There is nothing about which I have heard indicating threats or violence.”

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your input.”

There was not another train until the morning, so Pope checked into a hotel for the night.

He documented the conversation in his notebook to be used to transcribe into typed form at the War office.

While he was still concerned about Conkling, he was beginning to think he should actually go to New York and speak with the man. He was convinced he should beard the lion in his den by the time he arrived back in Washington the next day.

Pope met with Lincoln on his first day back in the office. While his report was being typed on the office’s new machine, he gave the secretary his executive summary of the visit to Lexington.

“I’m about to write off the wood vs. steel aspects of the case, sir.”

“Without reading your full report, I am inclined to agree. I will take it to Brewster and make sure he concurs. Where to now?”

“I keep coming back to Conkling. I think the best way to get a feel for him is a face-to-face meeting.”

“The prospects of such a meeting will occupy much of my—no, our—meeting with the attorney general. Conkling was confirmed to the US Supreme Court and just never showed up. His legal knowledge greatly exceeds mine or Ben Brewster’s. He can be the most dangerous man I know of in politics. There are those who say he engineered the assassination of Garfield to put his buddy, Vice President Arthur in office. I doubt it, but who knows?”

Lincoln called in his secretary and had him call Brewster’s office and set up an appointment for thirty minutes. It was set for after lunch.

Lincoln seldom left for lunch. Pope walked over to the President’s House and checked the logs and spoke with the office corporal and returned in time to walk next door with Lincoln.

A forty-minute discourse followed about the positives and negatives of actually interviewing Conkling. Pope reiterated Sarah’s findings from the journalist.

They agreed