The Whiskey Rebels (54 page)

Leonidas garnered a few curious looks from those uncomfortable with the notion of socializing with Negroes, and he suggested he return to our rooms. I would not let him go. “I need to have someone to speak to. I do better thinking when I can speak my ideas aloud.”

“Then you may hire a whore to sit and talk with you, if it is all the same.”

“Don’t be so sensitive. You are like a jilted lover. In any event, you must know by now that you are more than a person with whom I can engage in dialogue. You are proving to be a very capable spy yourself, Leonidas.”

He appeared pleased with my saying it. “But what of the looks? The traders don’t like a Negro here.”

“Even stronger than their dislike is their greed and indifference. If there were one of those instructional books, an
Every Man His Own Spy
or something of that nature, one of the chapters would certainly instruct you to act, everywhere you go, as if you belong there. That, more than anything else, will keep you safe. Now, let us see what sort of trouble we can cause. You there.” I grabbed a passing trader. “Is it true that the Million Bank launches next week?”

He snorted. “Yes, but what of it? The Million Bank is a sham, a scheme rooted in political mischief and greed. No one but a fool will waste his money upon it.”

I affected a look of surprise “Are you certain? I know for a fact that Duer means to invest heavily. Can the great Duer be mistaken?”

Something changed upon the man’s face. “You are certain of that?”

“From the man’s lips himself,” I said.

“Then for God’s sake, tell no one else,” he said, and hurried off.

“There will always be a storm,” I told Leonidas. “You may be rained upon or cause the rain yourself. I very much prefer the latter.”

“What do you imagine he prefers?” Leonidas asked, pointing to a table across the room.

Drinking coffee, with an expression of utter seriousness, was my old friend Kyler Lavien.

H
e was alone at his table, so Leonidas and I sat down to join him. “Good afternoon, Leonidas, Captain Saunders. What are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here,” I said. “I’m looking for Pearson.”

He smiled. “I understand that you have good reason to do so, and he has good reason to fear your finding him, but that doesn’t explain why you went out to Greenwich to see Duer.”

“You know about that?”

He leaned forward. “I know about everything, at least in the end. I want you to stay away from Duer.”

“Duer is my best chance of finding Pearson. There is something improper in their dealings, but they do business together somehow, and, at least for Pearson, it is a desperate business. If I stir things up for Duer sufficiently, Pearson will emerge.”

“If I can find out anything about where Pearson is, I shall tell you.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, “but I trust you won’t mind if I continue to look on my own.”

“As it happens, I do mind. There are things in play now—delicate things. I cannot risk your acting on your own.”

“Then bring me in,” I said. “Tell me what you do.”

“I have not permission for that. You of all men must understand that I am in a difficult position. Were it in my power to trust you, I would. But I must act alone, and you must stay away from anything involving the Million Bank, stay away from anything involving the Bank of the United States, and stay away from Duer.” He rose. “You and I have been friends, Saunders, but do not test me on this. You know what I am capable of. Good day.”

Leonidas watched him leave. “He is unhappy.”

“Rather unkind of him to take out his frustration on us, don’t you think?” I signaled the boy to place our orders, but he did not come over. Instead, an older man in a very dirty apron manifested himself and came to our table. “Are you named Saunders?” he asked.

Leonidas stiffened considerably in his chair. I don’t know what he made ready for, but I suppose after ten years in my service he knew that any time a stranger recognized me, it might well mean trouble.

I told the man I was indeed who he thought, but there was nothing threatening in him. He was, in fact, naught but smiles. “Very good, sir. I’m meant to inform you that your orders, sir, for drinks only—spirituous drinks, you understand—are to be paid for at no charge to you. May I send you a bottle of our best claret, sir?”

“Yes, that would be very good. Better make it two,” I said.

“Ah, very good, sir. Your wine shall be with you anon.” He bowed and retreated backward for a few steps, as though afraid I might attack him if he turned away.

“Duer means to keep you drunk,” Leonidas said.

“Obviously.”

“He is clearly afraid of the damage you might do to him.”

“Certainly.”

“And what shall you do about it?”

“Drink his wine and then do the damage.”

T
o the accompaniment of some very good wine indeed, we spent several hours watching small trades transpire about us. At 3
P.M
. there was a mass exodus into one of the Merchants’ long rooms, where an auction in government securities was conducted by a man named John Pintard. It was a raucous and loud affair, and things happened far too quickly for me to understand who sold and who bought. Duer did not himself attend, but I noticed the unusually tall Isaac Whippo standing toward the back of the room, carefully observing each transaction.

After this, we retired back to the taproom, as did many of the speculators. The auction seemed to be only the most orderly and organized of the day’s activities, for the real trading took place afterward in comfort and semiprivacy.

Whippo left after the auction, which I considered to my advantage. I did not want him around to see me work my business. It had been of some value to sit and watch, to listen to men talk. It was an even greater advantage to invite them to talk with me, using the excellent free wine as an incentive. I decided it would be wrong of me, very wrong, not to use Duer’s assault upon my perceived weakness against him, and I spread it about that I was willing to share my bounty with any man willing to share information about Duer. No one precisely lined up, but as soon as one man left my table, another was willing to take his place. I listened to what each had to say and would ask the occasional question about Pearson, though this yielded little fruit. Some knew who he was and had seen him in New York, though not recently. Some asserted he worked with Duer, but none could say to what end or in what capacity.

I did hear a great deal about Duer, though, much of it contradictory. The Million Bank was indeed upon everyone’s lips, and while most men had absorbed the message Duer wished them to receive—that this project was a fiscal disaster in the making—I was also pleased to hear repeated back to me the very rumor I had spread that morning: that the Million Bank was poised to be a major enterprise, and that Duer himself had invested heavily.

I had been at my project almost two hours, and growing weary of it, when a shadow crossed over my table and a vaguely familiar voice greeted me. The man himself was uncompelling in stature, losing his hair precipitously, and dressed finely in a new suit of light blue material. It took a moment, but then I recognized him, for I’d met him at the Bingham house. This was the new senator from New York, Colonel Aaron Burr.

“I’d hoped to make your acquaintance once again,” he said, and sat without waiting to be invited.

I presented Leonidas to him, who nodded and spoke a few pleasant and forgettable words, as was his habit when I treated him as an equal. Burr looked at the bottle of wine, having clearly heard rumor of my bottomless supply. I called for a fresh glass and a fresh bottle.

With wine in hand, he appeared ever more relaxed. “What brings you to New York, Saunders? I hear you have been making inquiries of Duer. Are you making inquiries for Hamilton?”

“I’m merely curious,” I said.

He knew an obfuscation when he heard one, and I had no doubt he had issued more than his share. “Then you are not upon Treasury Department business?”

“I am upon personal business,” I said, as though this were but more casual conversation. “Tell me, have you seen Jacob Pearson here in New York?”

“I
have
seen him in New York, but not recently. Are you hoping to create a reunion of our little circle from the Bingham house?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the two of us, Pearson, and that delightful Mrs. Maycott.”

This was interesting. “She is in New York?”

“Oh, yes, she has rooms in a boardinghouse on Wall Street. You must be careful, though. A rich widow is always an attractive target, but her Irishman doesn’t let any suitors too close.”

It was tempting to jump to conclusions, but I could not know that this was the same Irishman I’d met outside the Statehouse. New York was more full of Irishmen than Ireland. “Have you met this guardian?”

“Oh yes. Very imposing fellow. Not young, but tall, hairless as an egg, and smelling of whiskey. I would not recommend crossing him.”

The charming and beautiful Mrs. Maycott, who claimed to be my best friend in this affair, was in league with the bald and giant Irishman from the Statehouse. This was disturbing news indeed.

“As for Pearson,” he continued, “that is a more difficult matter. They say he is hiding from the Treasury Department, though no one knows precisely why. I suppose that is why Freneau is passing his time here in New York. He must wish to find Pearson as well as you, though I imagine for different reasons.”

“Philip Freneau?” said Leonidas. “Jefferson’s newspaper man? What has he to do with all of this?”

“I don’t know,” said Burr, “but if you wish to know, I can think of no better method of discovering the truth than asking him. He is sitting across the room.”

Fortunately, he had the good sense to do no more than gesture with his head. I looked over, and there indeed was a gentleman I recognized. I could not disguise my astonishment. I knew the man’s name and I knew his face, but I had never before associated the one with the other. It was the frog-faced man whom I had seen watching me all over Philadelphia. He sat behind a pillar so he was mostly obscured, and he was looking away at the moment, but every few minutes he glanced in my direction. He took a lazy note on a piece of foolscap. The man who had appeared everywhere I went was Jefferson’s newspaper man.

“He has been following me for some time,” I said to Burr. “Have you any idea why?”

“I imagine it is because he believes you can lead him to a story for his newspaper, and if it is for his paper, it must be something to make Hamilton look poorly.”

“Do you know the man?” I asked.

“Not well, but I know him a little. I’ve had a few social interactions.”

“Is he a physical man?” I asked. “Does he possess courage?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” said Burr.

I glanced at Leonidas. He said, “Good.”

N
ot long after that, Mr. Burr excused himself. Leonidas and I entertained a few more speculators in search of good claret and dropped a few more hints about the Million Bank, but I kept my eye on the froggy Mr. Freneau. At near eight o’clock, he left the Merchants’, and Leonidas and I followed him. There could be no guarantee that his path would provide an opportunity for us, but as it turned out, the streets were quiet and poorly lit, and it was no difficult task to find our moment.

We approached him quietly from behind, and Leonidas turned his shoulder outward and slammed hard into Mr. Freneau’s back. Leonidas then stepped back—men are more indignant if they know they are knocked down by a Negro—and I moved forward to take his place. “I do beg your pardon,” I said, picking up Mr. Freneau’s leather bag, which he had dropped as an inevitable result of Leonidas’s expertly placed blow. It was dark and thus easy for my fingers to explore inside, extract a thick package of folded papers, and slip them into my own coat. “Your bag, sir,” I said, holding it out.

He snatched the bag with great irritation. “You did that purposefully.”

“For what reason,” I demanded, “would I knock down a stranger on purpose?”

“Come, Saunders. You must know by now I’ve been keeping my eye on you.”

I gasped. “Can it be?”

“You may choose to play games,” said Freneau, “but I think it time we dealt openly.”

Being in possession of Freneau’s documents, I could not help but think the advantage was mine, so I invited him to join me in the taproom of Fraunces Tavern. I was happy to escape the cold, and we made ourselves comfortable near the fire. Before I could call for refreshment, the publican came forth to inform me that Duer had made the same arrangement with him as with the owner of the Merchants’. I therefore asked him to send me two of his best bottles of wine. I did not want them for myself, only to make Duer pay and to make him believe I depended more on his generosity than I did.

“Now, then,” I said to Freneau, “perhaps you will tell me what you wish of me.”

“You know what I wish. I wish to know what Duer and Hamilton are up to.”

“They are not up to anything together.”

“Together, separate, it hardly matters. You will find it is all of a piece. Now, out with it. There has been something brewing for some time. I’ve long felt it. This is an election year, you know, and my readers must have the truth.”

“Perhaps you should first tell us what you know, since I too must have the truth. You say what you know, and then I will add what I can.”

Freneau pressed his lips together in satisfaction, which made him look all the more froggish. “I know Duer plans to gain ownership of the Million Bank. He puts it about that he thinks the scheme will fail, but it is only so he and his agents can obtain more shares themselves.”

“What is the harm in that? Many predict the bank won’t survive, but if Duer wants to invest in it may he not do so?”

“Duer lies. He warns everyone away from the Million Bank launch, and then he plans to move in with his agents to gain a controlling share. What happens then? It’s a new bank. It is regarded with interest and enthusiasm. The value of its shares rise, and, inevitably, the value of the shares of other banks falls. It may be temporary, but it happens. But if a man controls enough of one bank he can then use the artificial value of the inflated price of shares to buy up a controlling interest in another bank. In this case, Duer thinks he can use the Million Bank to take over the Bank of the United States. When he is done, the most venal man in America will hold in his hands the nation’s finances, and Hamilton will have all but handed his bank over to him.”