THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal) (5 page)

“I’m set to leave in the morning with Gabriel,” Jonathan responded.

Rodger nodded his approval. “I will meet up with Delibes and deliver the device to Lanson. He will see to it that it’s delivered to your father.”

“You can trust this man, Lanson? I don’t know of him,” Gannon interrupted.

“There is no finer man than Peter Lanson. I trust no one better with my life,” Morse said firmly.

“You will have to. We all will,” Gannon replied. His attention directed upon Jonathan. “Now you understand the reason why Catherine needs to stay where she is, Jonathan. I can’t have her off gallivanting…spying.”

“I would never allow such,” Jonathan countered indignantly. Quickly he reined in his temper. Jonathan stood and flipped through the papers. “I find it hard to believe my father can decipher these particulars.”

Lifting a glass of refreshment, Rodger laughed. “I am sure there is much you do not know of your father. In the years I worked with John, he was the best at figurin’ out the ins and outs of the most odd devices. Many a puzzle he decoded, and I might add, at the most opportune times. Many a scrape we managed to avoid because of his genius. But never did we dream we would be back in the middle of a network.”

“Life takes many unexpected twist and turns. Take working with Delibes. Over twenty years ago we were working against him,” Dr. Jenkins added, sitting back within his chair.

“Ah, but now we are on the same side. He hates the British with a passion,” Rodger said, rubbing his eyes.

Jonathan broke in. “Isn’t he a Frenchman? Isn’t that expected?”

“There was more,” Dr. Jenkins offered. He poured a glass of wine for both. “Another time. Do we need to inform any others of the details?”

“Like I have said before, the fewer people know the better. We have to be extremely careful,” Rodger warned. “I will be meeting up with Delibes in New York next week. From there I will take the device. If need be, after John looks at it we will arrange a meeting.”

“Are all these precautions needed?” Jonathan asked. He placed the papers back down.

Rodger shook his head. “It’s hard for you being young to understand the road that we’re embarking on, but mark my word, son. If we all value our heads. War is a harsh reality. Neither side takes kindly to spies. Examples are made to deter. To make the next steps, there can be no doubt of your commitment to the cause. Our lives will mean nothing compared to our goal. Without doubt, sacrifices will be made.”

“The last letters from Franklin warned of repercussions from the Boston Tea Party. He believes the British are now posed to take a much harder stance.” Dr. Jenkins tossed back his glass and finished off his drink. “King George believes he has taken too soft a position. Franklin himself has been relieved of his deputy postmaster for America duty. The British are set to use force against us. We all know that we will defend. We have to prepare. The time is at hand.”

“Take these letters home with you, Jonathan,” Doctor Jenkins wrapped up the papers, tying them together.

Jonathan accepted them, placing them securely in his waist coat pocket. With the threat of war looming on the horizon, the awareness swept through Jonathan of the staggering problems that encompassed maintenance of a secret life.

* * * *

Particular confidential intelligence had led Colonel Marcus Durham to this place stationed outside the New York harbor, the East End Tavern. A wind had begun to gust; dark, drifting clouds threatened to obscure the sun. A storm loomed on the horizon. He sat in wait.

A boom of thunder roared in the distance. Westward fast flying clouds flickered with white light. Marcus stared morosely at the lightening-ridden clouds. Lightning flashed again, but no rain fell. He tethered his horse in front of his destination, the East End Tavern. His eyes caught sight of the man he sought, a large, big boned man. The other, hopefully, was ready to meet up with him.

Durham fixed his eyes  on the man tying his horse to the post.  The man turned and glanced around. All seemed as it should. It was Marcus’ job to make sure all seemed so. The man took a deep breath, and then walked into the tavern. Marcus hoped this would be quick. He wanted to depart before the storm broke.

Thunder roared again. Marcus stepped into the tavern and took a seat in the back. Another roar of thunder shook the shelter. He surveyed the room, glancing around the room while he ordered his rum. He took note of the door and windows. A couple of men stood at the bar.  Shore men.

Before he took the first sip of his rum an unruly bunch entered, his men. Loud, obnoxious, the group of five announced their entrance. From the look of their long coats, the hats over their ears and the smell of the sea, one would have no doubt that they’d just landed after a long ocean voyage.

Marcus stood and made his move. He slapped his intended target on his back. The man looked up. Rodger Morse. Marcus said heartily, “You look lonely, old chap. Come join us, won’t you?”

Rodger grimaced. He casually shook his head. “Thanks, but I am afraid I would not be good company. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Not an issue. You looked as though you needed friends.” He withdrew back to his companions, nodding for all to get in position.

“Mr. Morse?”

Morse glanced up at the barmaid. Marcus watched intently.

“I was given this note for you.”

Marcus watched Morse quickly read the paper and downed the last of his rum. Delibes must already be here. Marcus waved his hand after Morse stood and began his ascent up the stairs. He turned, glancing back at all, but continued upward. Marcus eyed his captain and nodded. There was no need to wait any longer. His men disbursed quickly.

The men hurried up the steps, taking by surprise the occupants within the tavern. Marcus turned to the barkeeper, “It will be best if all stay where they are.”

The man nodded nervously. No one moved. Marcus heard a knock and then gunfire. Rapid footsteps pounded above. Someone was out upon the roof. Marcus hurried out the door. Looking up, he caught sight of his target. A sudden burst of wind knocked the man forward. Skidding, Morse upheld his balance on the uneven surface with a package under his arms.

The storm grew near. The wind blew fiercely. Marcus blinked his eyes to adjust to the night and the weather. The blinking didn’t clear his vision, but he caught sight of Morse taking a leap from the end of the roof.

Marcus yelled orders over the sound of the storm. He mounted his horse and raced around the inn. He caught sight of a man limping, approaching a horse’s side. The man climbed into the saddle and was off before Marcus had a chance to get a shot off.

Beside him a large portion of his unit raced off after the man. He picked up his pace. Nudging his horse, the horse bolted forth, sensing the danger.

Raindrops which just moments before dripped lightly, rushed downward. Lightning flashed in the sky. Marcus pushed his horse on. Shots rang out. He pressed harder. He couldn’t let him get away. Rounding the bend, they lost sight of the target.

“Spread out! Spread out! Find him!” Marcus yelled over the rain and wind. His men
dispersed in all directions. He tethered back his horse. “He couldn’t have gone far!” 

“Colonel,”
one of his men called as he rode up beside him a few minutes later. “We’ve seem to have lost the trail.”

“Damnit! Find him now,” Marcus commanded. Damn, this weather, he thought. We had him! “Split up. Search everywhere!”

The rain poured and his temper raged. Where would he go? Instincts he long had used to his advantage surfaced in him. He thought back to when he inspected the area. Wasn’t there a small shed not far from here when he laid out the area? Rain flowed off him, but he urged his mount onward. Through the rain, he caught sight of a small leaning shed along the river’s edge.

A lone horse sat outside the shed. Silently, the men circled the structure. Marcus dismounted, pistol held tight in his hand. With his foot, he busted the door open, but no sounds ensued. Sprawled on the dirt floor lay the man he had followed. Blood oozed into a puddle around the lifeless body. Marcus leaned over. Morse had been shot through the back. Marcus scanned the shed. There was no package.
Drag marks embedded in the ground indicated someone had moved the body within.  Morse had had an accomplice.

Anger spewed forth. Dead men can’t talk.

“Sorry, Colonel,” one of his men came forward. “Delibes is dead. We had no choice. He fired upon us. He had nothing in his room.”

Marcus ran his hand through his wet hair and shook his head. All would have been so much simpler if this mission ended this night. He gritted his teeth together. All was not lost. “It only means, Tom, we have to change our plans. We know where they want to take the device. We go back to Williamsburg.”

Hannah Corbett dug her heels into her mount’s side, urging her sorrel horse on. She had a need to expel her frustration. She glanced behind her shoulder and smiled. She was a good length in front of her closest challenger. She clicked her mouth. The horse galloped faster.

Laughing, Hannah pushed her mount. Her horse rounded the bend sharply. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a traveler standing aside his mount in her path. She pulled the reins and took a detour to the right. In one swift movement, she jumped the rail fence beside him. Two others reined their horses in as dust rose from the dirt road.

“Hannah Corbett, you could have killed yourself,” a voice cried out. Jonathan dismounted from his horse. He glanced over at the stranger. “Pray, excuse us, sir. We were out for a morning ride, which, as you can see, became something of a competition. I sincerely hope you weren’t injured.”

Hannah’s attention turned to Gabriel, who had jumped off his mount and leaned against the railing, his interest firmly fixed upon her. Hannah gave thought only to comfort when she dressed in breeches and shirt, which she borrowed from her cousin. Her hat had been blown off during the jump, leaving her dark, brown hair loose falling over her shoulders down her back.

“I won,” he laughed out of breath.

“Oh, no, you didn’t, Gabriel Witherspoon!” Hannah shook her head in defiance. “I was a good length in front of you. If it hadn’t been for....” She remembered in that moment a stranger was among them. She dismounted and hastened her way over.

“I hope you are all right,” she said addressing the stranger. “I’m so sorry. Usually we don’t have many riders down this road this early.”

She crawled through the fence and tied her reins to the post. Looking up, her attention was drawn to the stranger’s hand, which rested upon his large, cumbersome saddlebag. He looked tired and worn from his journey. His horse had been ridden so hard the animal’s flanks lathered. Without question he had traveled a distance in a short period of time.

Jonathan gave Hannah a disapproving look and turned to the traveler. “Let me introduce all. Jonathan Corbett, Doctor Jonathan Corbett,” he added with pride. He pointed to Hannah, “My sister, you saw jump the fence, Hannah Corbett, and my good friend, Gabriel Witherspoon.”

The man collected himself. He dusted himself off and extended his hand toward the young man. His manner eased upon the utterance. He said simply, “Peter Lanson from New York City.”

Hannah eyed her brother intently. She saw instantly that Jonathan recognized the name. She tilted her head, glancing back over at the gentleman. “I hope you weren’t injured, but I’m confident that my brother would be able to help you if you are. He has just returned back from Philadelphia and his studies.”

“I assure you, I’m am intact. I should have known better than to stop in the path of a race,” Lanson nodded. His attention turned toward Jonathan. “I would hate to impose upon your goodness, but I have traveled far. My horse is in need of water. I’m in search of a man, and given your names, you may know of him. A John Corbett? He’s a silversmith in Williamsburg.”

Hannah looked strangely at him. “But of course. He’s our father. Why would you come this way outside of Williamsburg when…?”

Jonathan interrupted her and stepped into between the two. “I believe I understand, Mr. Lanson. I’m aware that Father has been expecting visitors, but I have to admit, he may have been expecting another one with you.”

Lanson’s expression hardened. “Unfortunately, Mr. Morse didn’t make it. I don’t mean to press the issue, but it is of the utmost importance I see your father quickly. Being it best that the least people know I am here the better. Do you think you might be able to offer me aid?”

Jonathan sighed uneasily and glanced over at Hannah. Hannah returned the stare. From the look he gave her, he wanted her to be quiet and ask no more questions.

“Gabriel, can you take our visitor down to the old Kerr’s cabin down at the river’s bend? Hannah, go bring him some clean clothes and food from Uncle Nathanial’s. At least he will be able to rest. I have to go see Father. I won’t be long. Don’t say a word to anyone! Is that clear?” Jonathan ordered, daring his sister to challenge him.

Hannah ignored her brother. A twinkle arose in her eyes. “What is it?”

“Hannah, for once don’t ask questions. Father would insist,” Jonathan admonished.

Gabriel chuckled under his breath. “Don’t worry. I will take care of everything,” he replied, eyeing Hannah. “We will see to the needs of Mr. Lanson, I assure you.”