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

the heavy pull double-action revolver instead of his usual Colts. He need not have worried.

Without help from Conkling’s two men, the conspirators looked at each other.

“It’s coming now,” Pope thought to himself.

They both drew revolvers. Before they had their guns anywhere near pointed in Pope’s direction, there were two cracks.

Each man was hit in the upper torso. Two more cracks from Pope’s gun as insurance. Again, these two shots were fired before their draws were completed.

Romano and Johnstone fell dead on the wooden planks of the pier.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief from the shadows. And a smile of pride. Pope emerged victor again. Against uneven odds. Damn, he’s good, she thought as she smiled more broadly.

They heard New York police whistles in the distance.

Conkling sent one of his two giants to direct the responding officers to the pier.

Of the first three to arrive, one was a sergeant who Conkling seemed to know well. Pope suspected he was on Conkling’s payroll.

“Sean, this is Deputy US Marshal John Pope. He is investigating a plot to shoot the president. His investigation has implicated these two, who I think you will recognize as Marxist conspirators. They are two of the three men involved. My men and I came to assist by identifying them.

“When the marshal attempted to take them into custody, they pulled guns. He pulled faster and killed them both. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never.

“Sean, it was as clean a shoot as anyone could imagine. You write it up and the marshal will come downtown in the morning and give you his statement. Then, he has to get back to Washington and report all clear to the attorney general.

“Marshal, please give the sergeant one of your unfired rounds so the coroner can compare calibers. Sean, you will see it’s a .44-40. Not something you will see around the city. It’s a Wild West cartridge carried by a Wild West lawman.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Conkling. Marshal Pope, report to Detective Fusco at headquarters tomorrow morning after nine. I will make sure he is expecting you and will get you in and out real fast,” the sergeant said.

The four men walked slowly away from the scene. Pope reloaded his Smith & Wesson as he walked.

A woman with glossy black hair and blue eyes joined them after a block. Taking everyone but Pope by surprise.

“Mr. Conkling, this is my partner, Wells Fargo Detective Sarah Watson Pope,” Pope said.

“An honor, Mrs. Pope. How is your old employer, Allan Pinkerton doing? I’ve known him for years, but lost contact,” Conkling replied.

Was there anything or anyone this man didn’t know, Pope thought, saying nothing.

Sarah did not miss a beat.

“I am afraid Allan is doing poorly. He had a stroke last year and seems to be on his last legs. I have not mentioned it to John yet, but I need to stop in Chicago on the way back West and see him. Probably for the last time.”

“Please give him this card and express my best wishes for a good recovery.”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

“Mr. Conkling, thank you for your help on this. The president will be made fully aware you were instrumental in breaking up this cabal.”

Conkling gave two more cards to Pope. One for the president and one, he said, for the two detectives to keep in case they “ever needed anything in New York”.

Sarah and Pope knew Conkling’s definition of “anything” was very broad in their case.

Conkling had a carriage waiting conveniently a few blocks away from the scene. He gave them a ride to their hotel and rode off into history. A great friend, a bad enemy.

“Honey, we need to get to Washington as soon as possible. But first a telegram to Lincoln. On the outside chance we’ve missed a member of the Marxist group, we need to have Arthur covered heavily at the statue event. I cannot leave until I sign a statement with this Detective Fusco person.”

They checked out of their hotel. Pope met with Fusco quickly and made the southbound train to Washington just after the one Sarah had taken just in case he was delayed. He arrived well before the dedication of the new monument.

The telegram to the secretary of war preceded them by hours. They had time to stop by the house and clean up. Pope found a saw with May’s help and sawed the butt off Sarah’s shotgun, leaving only the pistol grip. The result was a powerful weapon which would fit in her largest purse. She took it to the dedication when they left to scan the area hours before any dignitaries arrived.

The Washington police officers were putting up rope barricades. One stopped Pope, who showed him the deputy marshal badge and explained his presence.

Pope and Sarah identified several windows which would offer good shooting points for a sniper with a target rifle.

They entered the buildings, one commercial, one residential, and interviewed residents. The asked the commercial building to lock off the floor with the offending windows once they found the floor was storage only.

The several residential windows were in the apartment of an elderly couple Pope and Sarah did not feel offered a threat.

They checked trash receptacles and around the monument itself for any type of explosives, such as dynamite. Nothing was found. They were being careful though Nelson said the plan was for all three to shoot Arthur at the same time.

The two detectives remained on station until the dignitaries arrived. Pope was glad to see his President’s House security team escorting the president.

There was one protestor with a sign. It said, “Share the wealth,” which the two detectives thought might have been a subtle socialist or communist saying. He was a fairly well-dressed man of about forty with wild hair.

Sarah walked over to him and flashed her gold Wells Fargo badge so fast he could not read it. She then stood beside him.

“You have the right to protest. But the president has the right to speak without you interrupting. Do so and you will suffer