Read Online On Secret Service by John Jakes - Free Book Online Page B

inside the organization. Do you know what Ferrandini told me after I convinced him I was a secesh from Georgia? ‘One thing will save the South. Mr. Lincoln’s corpse.’”
    â€œMy, my,” Lincoln said with a weary amusement. “Hotheaded, those Latins.”
    â€œThe dago ought to be shot.” That was the other colonel, Ellsworth. He commanded a regiment of Zouave militia.
    Pinkerton’s conviction strengthened his voice. “Ferrandini’s an ignorant lowlife, but I take him seriously. In Italy he was allied with the man who almost killed Napoleon the Third. Furthermore, gentlemen, you don’t know this slavery crowd as I do. No crime’s too heinous to preserve their ungodly system. Hang every adult male in the South and we’d all be better off.”
    â€œEvery one? That’s a pretty uncharitable view, Mr. Pinkerton,” Lincoln said.
    â€œNevertheless I hold to it, sir. I loathe and distrust the lot of them. The hour’s late. We have a one-car special waiting, to connect with the eleven p.m. sleeper out of Philadelphia. My agent Mrs. Warne has reserved space in the last car. You will travel as her invalid brother. Mr. Felton’s posted nearly two hundred men along the line, ready to signal if the track is sabotaged.” It was the same plan Pinkerton had proposed last night. The President-elect had seen hundreds of thousands of well-wishers on his long rail journey from Springfield. The crowds were friendly. Baltimore was the feared exception.
    Lincoln sighed. “All right. We can’t slice this bacon any thinner. If ridicule is the only thing deterring us, I’m disposed to go along with the plan.” Lamon started to object again. “No, that’s it, Ward. I’ll change out of this funeral suit.”
    â€œI have a hat and traveling shawl ready,” Pinkerton said.
    Lamon burst into the hall and strode away with a glare at the detectives. He was an imposing fellow, with a dragoon mustache and a self-important air. Lincoln liked his singing and banjo playing, especially his rendition of “The Blue Tail Fly.” Lamon wore two concealed revolvers at all times.
    Pinkerton rushed into the hall, flushed with excitement. He herded Sledge and Lon toward the stairs, away from the too curious Captain Pope.
    â€œWe’ll be on our way in half an hour. No other rail traffic will be allowed out of town until morning. Men are standing by to cut the telegraph wires. By six a.m. I’ll have the President safely at Willard’s Hotel. The rest of the party will travel through Baltimore tomorrow as planned. You two will accompany them.”
    With his white tie undone, Lincoln poked his head out the door. He was a peculiar-looking man, almost ugly. He had sad, sunken eyes, straggly chin whiskers, and a rough, dark complexion. Woefully unpresidential, Lon thought.
    â€œPinkerton, I won’t go until Mrs. Lincoln’s told.”
    â€œI’ll inform her personally, sir.”
    Lincoln disappeared. Lon and Sledge exchanged looks as the boss marched to an adjoining suite, knocked, entered. Lon liked to be charitable; his father had taught him it was a virtue. But a day in the company of Lincoln’s haughty and sharp-tongued wife had overcome the training. They heard Mary Lincoln’s hysterical cry:
    â€œI won’t have it. I won’t, I won’t!”
    â€œMadam, he has agreed to go. He will be safe, I swear to you.”
    â€œAnd who are you? A tradesman. Nobody! I demand that Colonel Lamon accompany you to protect my husband.”
    â€œActs like she’s First Lady already,” Sledge whispered. Captain Pope was rigid with embarrassment. They heard Pinkerton pleading:
    â€œFor pity’s sake, madam, keep your voice down. I accede to your request. Colonel Lamon may come with us.”
    â€œAnd Robert.” Bob was the Lincolns’ oldest son, eighteen.
    â€œNo. Only Lamon.” Mrs.