The Whiskey Rebels (22 page)

“Of course I intend to find him.”

He leaned forward in his serious way. “Ethan, you should think about this. You have little money right now, and I understand that you care for Mrs. Pearson, but caring does not mean you must sacrifice yourself to her memory. If Mr. Lavien does not wish your help, perhaps the matter is in hand.”

“To begin with, I would never turn my back on an old commitment.”

“I am not convinced of that,” he said, with much bitterness. “I’ve seen it happen.”

I was not about to get dragged into another conversation about his emancipation. “On top of that, I have been personally injured. Men have sought to intimidate and harm me, to have me cast from my home. I cannot simply turn my back. And what is most amazing to me is Hamilton. All these years I believed it was he who chose to ruin my reputation by putting it about that I had committed treason, and I hated him for it. Now, it seems, I was mistaken. Hamilton turns out to be a fairly decent fellow, and he went so far as to say that he values my skills.”

“What of it?”

“Don’t you see? If I can find Pearson first, if I can beat Lavien at his own game, Hamilton will bring me back into government service. I will be of
use
again, Leonidas. I cannot let something like that slip between my fingers.”

“How are you going to best a man like Mr. Lavien, who has his own impressive skills, is younger than you, and enjoys the protection and power of the government?”

“I believe we shall do so not by pursuing the obvious but by pursuing lines of inquiry that are ours exclusively. What do we know that Lavien does not?”

“We don’t know what Lavien knows, since he won’t share anything.”

“But we can operate on certain assumptions. Let us assume, first of all, that Lavien and Hamilton don’t know about the Irishman, they certainly don’t know about the note from Mrs. Pearson, and it seems to me likely that they don’t know about this Reynolds man pretending to be one of their own. Lavien has been looking for Pearson for nearly a week now, but he does not seem close to finding him; otherwise he would not have followed Mrs. Pearson to my rooms. I’m sure he is going about it the usual way—speaking to his family, his friends, his business associates—but this method has yielded him nothing. We shall try it my way, Leonidas, the old Fleet and Saunders method, and we shall see who finds the man first.”

“And what does that mean?” he asked.

I took out my stolen timepiece and checked what o’clock it was. “Let’s return to see Hamilton. I have an important question for him.”

Leonidas shook his head. “He won’t like it.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s why we need to find a newspaper first. I will require something to persuade the secretary to be amiable.”

“A newspaper,” he repeated.

I was on my feet, reaching for my hat. “You were not so privileged as to be in my company when I served the nation during the war, Leonidas.”

“No, but I have heard the stories,” he said, his tone implying that they were somehow tedious. I must have misunderstood him.

“This is your lucky day, then. Now you will, at last, see how business is done.”

I
t had surprised me how quickly Hamilton had seen me that morning. It did not surprise me that he made us wait well over an hour that afternoon. We sat in a vestibule outside the front office, which was, in turn, outside Hamilton’s sanctum. Anxious-looking clerks hurried in and out, avoiding eye contact with us. It was daylight, albeit of a gray and cloudy sort, when we entered the treasury buildings, and darkness fell while we awaited Hamilton’s pleasure. A pair of young Negroes came around lighting candles and lamps, and as they passed through our room they nodded at Leonidas, who nodded back. Did they know one another, or was this merely the recognition of race?

At last a clerk ushered us into the Treasury Secretary’s office, which in the darkness had a far more dour and constricted feel. Hamilton sat at his desk and hovered over his oil-lit work like an angry bear in its cave. “I had not expected to see you so soon,” he said.

“And you do not sound happy to do so. No matter, we won’t waste your time. Just a quick question and we’ll be on our way.”

“I believe I was clear,” he said. “I do not want you inquiring into Pearson’s disappearance.”

“And what makes you think I am doing that?”

“Look at you. You are like a dog on a hunt.”

“Only one question,” I said.

“No, Saunders, I’ll not play games with you. You may wait there as long as you like, but I’ll not start answering your questions.” He turned to his paper and began writing.

“I anticipated this,” I said. “Leonidas, please hand me that newspaper I asked you to bring along. I expected we would have to wait, and so I brought reading material. It is the
National Gazette,
which you mentioned to me earlier.”

Hamilton looked up, clearly unhappy that I would read a paper whose single purpose was to attack him.

“I do love this paper,” I said. “And its editor, Mr. Philip Freneau. Clever fellow. Now that I think on it, I have an excellent idea for an article. Take a letter, Leonidas:
Dear Mr. Freneau: You may not be aware of this stunning fact, but apparently Alexander Hamilton is currently employing his own Jewish half brother to inquire into the mysterious dealings of a noted Philadelphia gentleman.
” To Hamilton I said, “I know the half-brother business is false, but it will get his attention, and I’ll let him sort the rest out himself. You know how scrupulous these journalistic fellows are about their facts.”

“Enough!” Hamilton slammed his hand against the desk. “You would not dare.”

“Just a simple question, Colonel. Much easier that way.”

“Damn it, Saunders, what is this about?”

“It is about Fleet and about his daughter. I would think you, of all people, would understand. It was always said that you were a man for the ladies.”

His eyes narrowed in anger. “If you think—” he began to bark.

“I don’t mean you are a scoundrel, as your enemies like to cast about. I mean you understood the old ways, that a man must do what is right to protect a woman, a woman who, however incidentally, has crossed under his protection. So long as I think there is any chance of Cynthia Pearson being in danger, I will try to protect her. You may as well settle in for a long siege.”

He shook his head sadly and slumped slightly in his chair. “Very well. If it will make you go away.”

“See? Nothing simpler. My question is fairly simple. Does the name Reynolds mean anything to you?”

I had anticipated denial or obfuscation or genuine confusion. I did not anticipate what actually happened. Hamilton leaped to his feet. His heavy chair toppled behind him. Even in the poorly lit chamber I could see his face had turned red. “What do you mean by this?” he shouted. “Do you think to push my endurance to its limits?”

I exchanged a look with Leonidas, who was as confused as I. To Hamilton I affected calm, always the best way with a man in a rage. “I mean nothing, Colonel. The man who paid my landlady to cast me out said his name was Reynolds. I merely wished to see if you knew him. Apparently you do.”

Hamilton blinked at me several times and then at Leonidas. He turned around, righted his chair, and sat down again. He dusted off a spot on his desk. “I don’t know the name. It means nothing to me.”

“Just so,” I said. “I thought as much, for your ignorance of the name effectively explains your outburst. Well, I’ll just post a letter to Mr. Freneau. Perhaps he can do a bit of digging into the matter for me.”

“Oh, sit down.” Hamilton suddenly sounded tired. “I’ll tell you, but you must promise not to pursue this. And I don’t want you coming to my office and threatening me every time you have a question.”

“Absolutely,” I said, knowing full well I meant to take the information on any terms now and worry about the meaning of those terms later.

“Since you are such a close reader of Mr. Freneau’s paper,” Hamilton said, “you are undoubtedly familiar with the name William Duer.”

“From the war as well. He supplied the army, didn’t he?”

“That’s right,” said Hamilton. “He also served as my assistant for the first few months of my term at Treasury, but Duer, despite his patriotic impulses, was always looking for a better opportunity. He and I were once close friends, but things have been strained between us. I did not like the way in which he executed his duties while he served as my assistant, and he has also shown a coarse side at other times.

“As you know, the Bank of the United States launched last summer, and the price of shares soared astronomically. Duer invested heavily, but his investment became not only a sign but a symptom. He is so wealthy, he invests so much money, and his choices are of so much interest that Duer’s actions not only reflect or even moderately affect the market, they directly shape it. When he buys, everyone buys. When he sells, everyone sells. Try to understand what I am telling you. Ours is a unique economy, unlike any in the history of the world, for two reasons. In most nations trading is centralized—in London, Paris, Amsterdam. In our country, a man is used to thinking of his state as an autonomous entity, and the first reason is that trading is decentralized—in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and so on. The other reason is that the nation is new and, in terms of the number of major participants, very small. One man, a single actor, can alter the shape of the market if he is careful.”

“Or careless,” observed Leonidas.

Hamilton nodded. “Precisely. Duer, I fear, may be both. He uses his undue influence—understand me that he has an influence unlike any other single man in any single market in the history of finance as we know it—he uses this power to manipulate prices to his advantage, sending up the price of shares. He planned to raise them to their limit and then sell at an enormous profit, crashing the value of bank shares as he did so. Before things could get so far out of hand, I let it be known that I thought the trading price of bank shares was inflated—and in doing so depressed the market, costing Duer a great deal of money. He was very angry with me.”

“Go on,” I said.

“This Reynolds works for Duer. I believe he may have been exacting some revenge on you in order to get to me.”

“Colonel, you and I have not spoken in ten years. Why would he use me to harm you?”

“He may have made assumptions. He knows of you from the war. Perhaps he thought I would use you to conduct my inquiries, such as the one involving Mr. Pearson. He wished to thwart me for the sake of vengeance.”

I took a moment to let the silence do some work. “So, Duer is angry with you over an incident last summer and chooses to inconvenience me now as a way of extracting revenge?”

“Revenge,” said Hamilton, “or merely to push back at me and show me he still has power, yes. That is my theory, in any case. Now you need but let the matter alone, and I will see to it that you are not troubled any longer.”

“Very kind, but you know, I think I’d like to speak to Duer myself. I presume I can find him with the other speculators at the City Tavern?”

Hamilton sighed. “Duer lives in New York. He comes here on business but has not been in town for some weeks. I believe he has some business in New York that absorbs his attention. You see, there is nothing for you to do, and this matter has nothing to do with Pearson. I am asking you to let it alone.”

I stood up. “Of course. It is hardly worth a trip to New York over something like this, and I have other things to do besides hunting down Duer’s man. I am sorry to have troubled you. Good night, Colonel.”

We strolled out of the office and past the clerks stationed outside.

“Surely you did not believe any of that?” said Leonidas.

“Of course not,” I said, “but it was hardly to our advantage to push him further. He did not want to tell us more, and he would not have done so. Pressing him would have only made him angry. For now we take what he has given us and see where it leads us.”

Leonidas was about to speak when a thunderous roar erupted from inside Hamilton’s office. “Damn it!” cried the Secretary of the Treasury. This cry was followed by the sound of glass breaking. Several of the clerks looked up from their work, hesitated nervously, and then returned to their business.

For our part, we hurried outside and toward our next destination.

T
he Crooked Knight was a decidedly Jeffersonian tavern on the cusp of the Northern Liberties, a wretched place on Coats Street near the Public Landing, frequented by workingmen full of private rage masquerading as political anger. These were the sorts who read Freneau’s
National Gazette
aloud, jeered at each mention of Hamilton, and cheered at every reference to Jefferson. Indeed, off in one corner a spot had been roped off for a cockfight between one bird, stout and muscular and resplendent with shiny black feathers—this one called Jefferson—and another, scrawny and weak and pale—called Hamilton. Each time the larger bird attacked the lesser, the crowd cheered and cried out in praise of liberty and freedom.

This was, in other words, a tavern wholly dedicated to men of a democratic republican turn of mind. These men believed the American project to have been already tainted by venality and corruption. These were men who worshiped George Washington as a god but were willing to damn him to Hell for admitting Hamilton into his inner circle. These men had rioted against the ratification of the Constitution without having troubled themselves to read it—if they could read at all. They would only have known that some petty John Wilkes in their number had cried out that their liberties were in danger; if there was beer enough, they were always ready to answer the call.

It was not the sort of public house I frequented with any regularity. I prefer taverns where I may game or drink in quiet or talk in peace with those to whom I wish to speak, not cheer while a man I hardly know gives voice to a resentment I never knew I had.

The owner, however, was an old acquaintance, if not precisely a friend, and I had a reasonable expectation of obtaining some little help in that quarter. The Irishman outside the Statehouse had identified himself as a man of the Jeffersonian faction, and, if he drank in Philadelphia, it would likely be in the Crooked Knight or someplace like it. It was my hope that there I could find some means of learning his name or location.