Winds of the Storm (26 page)

Once they were safely back in Archer's suite, they sat and leafed through the pages. The names listed astounded them, not only because of how many there were but also because of whose there were. Frederick Douglass was at the top of the list, followed by others known for their outspoken commitment to justice for the race. Men such as James D. Lynch, a presiding elder of the Methodist Church and the secretary of state for the state of Mississippi; Henry M. Turner, who'd been born free in South Carolina and served as a member of Georgia's constitutional convention and the state's first Reconstruction legislature; Reverend Jonathan C. Gibbs, born in Philadelphia, educated at Dartmouth, who studied theology at Princeton and was Florida's secretary of state.

The next name on the list chilled her. “Your friend Dunn's name is here, and a line has been drawn through it.”

Archer looked where she pointed and read Oscar's name. His jaw tightened. “Was the line drawn through his name because of his untimely death or because Dawes and the others played a part in it?”

Neither of them knew.

Zahra said gravely, “According to my source, these books are all over the South. Who knows how many men of the race are in the supremacists' sights?”

“Or how many plots are already underway.”

It was a grim situation made even more grim by the knowledge that if there were plots afoot, there was no way to stop them even if she left for
Washington in the morning. An investigation into the matter would, without a doubt, take months to be officially commissioned, considering the volatile nature of the present political scene, and even though there were congressmen taking testimony related to the ongoing violence in many areas of the South, counting on the Congress to actually do something was another matter altogether.

Archer could see her thinking. “So what are you going to do?”

“Because we've found one of the books, I can now pull all of our people off the search and have them concentrate on Crete. If we don't turn up anything on him in the next seven days, then I go on to Washington.” She met his eyes. “Does that sound reasonable?”

“It does.” Although parts of him wondered if he'd ever see her again after she left New Orleans. With that in mind, he wanted to spend every waking and sleeping moment with her until her departure. The desire surprised him, because he'd never been obsessive with any other woman—but then he reminded himself that from the first time they'd met Zahra had never been just any woman. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?” he asked.

“Not that I can think of. Why?”

“Because I want to hold you.”

The seriousness of his tone was reflected in his gaze. His mood drew Zahra to her feet, and she let herself be enfolded in his strong arms.

He whispered above her, “I'm hoping, if I hold onto you long enough, I'll awaken and find
the Death Books nothing more than a bad dream.”

She tightened her hold. “And if we do wake up and the Death Books are still what they are, it won't stop the race from going forward.”

He kissed the top of her hair. “No, it won't.”

D
rake's printer friend had the duplicates ready the following evening. At dawn the next day Zahra put the initial part of her plan for Crete into motion. With Juliana and Sable's help, Zahra transformed herself into an old woman with graying hair and a pronounced but dignified limp. The changes in her hair and face were brought about by the skillful application of a talcum-powdered wig and some theater paint Sable had left over from a skit put on by her orphans. The limp was achieved by cobbling another heel onto one of Zahra's brogans. With one shoe higher than the other, the effect was as real as she needed it to be. She'd also wound lengths of cotton batting she'd gotten from Wilma around her arms, legs, and thighs to give her body more girth.

Juliana looked at this newest persona and shook
her head at the amazing difference. “Are you still in there?”

Zahra's smile showed bright and clear through the new face.

Sable said, “You look like an old woman.”

“Good. Now, let's hope everyone on the street thinks that as well.”

Zahra had shared the contents of the Death Books with everyone last evening, and all had been as concerned and as stricken as Zahra and Archer. Juliana would be seeing Henry Adams this morning to bring him up to date.

Now, as Juliana handed Zahra an old handbag to go with her disguise, she asked, “You are going to be careful?”

“Of course. We've come too far for me not to be.”

Sable would be accompanying Zahra. Because Sable was well known on the streets of New Orleans for her work with the area's orphans, she'd be able to give Zahra some legitimacy with the people Zahra planned to ask for help.

Juliana wished them both luck, then Sable and Zahra began their drive into town.

They found the early morning streets awash in litter from last night's Mardi Gras celebration but devoid of the revelers, who were now home sleeping off the aftereffects of too much celebrating. However, the vendors, cooks, laundresses, and other little people who didn't have that luxury were setting up their carts, opening their storefronts, or heading into work.

Sable pulled back on the reins. “There's someone we can trust.” After setting the brake, she got
down from the wagon and hurried around to assist her elderly passenger.

Zahra climbed down as gingerly as a true old woman would, then walked over with Sable to a young woman setting up a cart that would display the pralines she'd have for sale.

Sable said brightly, “Morning, Delia.”

“Mornin' Mrs. Le Veq. How are you? If you're looking for orphans I haven't seen any in the past few days.”

“Thanks, if you do see any, you know where to contact me.”

Delia nodded.

“Well, I'm here for something else this morning. This is Miss Minnie. Her granddaughter was taken from her a few days ago.”

Delia said, “Sorry to hear that, ma'am. Did they take her and put her to work on one of the plantations?”

“I think so,” Miss Minnie said in a wavering voice. “And I'm so worried I can't sleep.”

Sable showed Delia the likeness of Crete. “This is the man we think may have taken her. Does he look familiar?”

Delia studied the face. “No, but do you want me to keep an eye out for him?”

“Would you please and let me know if you see him?”

“I will. Folks stealing our children like they were apples on trees. It has to stop.”

Zahra reached into her handbag and took out a coin. She handed it to Delia and said, “For your trouble.”

“Thanks.”

With a wave of parting, Sable helped Zahra back onto the wagon seat, and they drove on.

The women spent the next hour talking to people Sable knew and leaving drawings of Crete behind. They spoke to draymen, sweepers, newsboys, shoeblacks, and barbers. Many expressed their sympathy for Minnie's plight and offered up stories of their own of youngsters they knew of who'd been kidnapped and made to sign work contracts that kept them indentured until they reached adulthood. All of Sable's contacts were advised to be discreet; if Crete learned he was being followed, he would move on. They heartily reassured both women that they would be.

By ten that morning, Zahra's leg was starting to ache from her uneven gait. “I think Minnie wants to go home and get out of these shoes. I'm also roasting inside this batting.”

Sable smiled. “Whatever you wish.”

“Thank you for your help. You seem to know everyone.”

“It wasn't always that way, but my work with the orphans has made me quite a few friends on the streets, and I value them very much.”

Zahra valued them as well. They all promised to leave Sable word at the convent or the orphanage should they see Crete or find out where he was staying. Now that Crete's face was on the drum, all Zahra could do was hope and pray that something on him turned up soon.

Sable looked Zahra's way and said, “Before we go back to Juliana's, how about we stop at the Christophe, get something to eat, and see how long it takes Archer to see through your disguise.”

Zahra thought it an excellent idea. “I doubt he'll be fooled, but I'm in.”

The restaurant was fairly empty because of the time of day. André greeted Sable warmly, then turned to her companion. “My name is André. Welcome to the Hotel Christophe, madam.”

“Thank ya,” Minnie said. “Name's Minnie Turpin. Miss Sable said you all have the best food in town here.”

André smiled, “Miss Sable is correct. This way, please.”

He led them across the restaurant to a table, and behind his back Zahra and Sable shared sparkling smiles. As they sat, Sable asked, “Is Archer here? I'd like for him to meet my friend.”

“I'll get him. You all look over the menu. Your waiter will join you shortly.”

After his departure, Zahra and Sable chuckled, then read their menus and waited for Archer.

When he appeared moments later, Zahra could only sigh at how handsome he was.

“Hello, lovely sister-in-law.”

“Hello, Archer. I want you to meet a friend. Her name's Minnie Turpin and she's visiting New Orleans for a few days.”

“Enchanté, Madam Turpin. I hope you are finding New Orleans to your liking.”

“Very much so. All this walking's got my leg acting up, but I'll be fine.” She then looked up into his dark eyes. “Miss Sable said you own this whole place.”

“I do indeed.” Then, as if noticing something amiss, he asked, “Have we met before?”

Minnie shook her head. “Nope. First time I ever been to New Orleans.”

“You remind me of someone.”

“You know more than one old woman with a bad leg?”

“Well, no, but—”

Sable said, “Archer, tell Aristide I'll have the catfish and the red beans and rice. Minnie, what would you like?”

Minnie ordered the same. Both women could see Archer still trying to figure out if or where he and Minnie had met previously.

He seemed to give up as he said, “I'll take your orders back to the kitchen.” Turning his attention to Minnie, he bowed and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, madam.”

“Same here. Back home in South Carolina the men don't bow like that. Makes me feel real special like.”

Archer smiled and nodded. “Enjoy your meals, ladies.”

As he walked away, Sable and Zahra hid their laughter behind their hands. By the time he disappeared through the kitchen doors, both women had tears in their eyes.

After they finished their lunch, Zahra said to Sable, “I'm going to go up to his office for a moment. Will you wait?”

“Certainly. Juliana wanted me to stop in at the post office to see if she's received any mail. I'll do that while you see Archer and I'll meet you back here.”

“Very good.”

Sable paid the bill and departed. Zahra stood and waved over André Renaud.

“Yes, ma'am?”

“Is Mr. Le Veq still here?”

“Yes, he's in his office.”

“You think he'd mind me disturbing him a moment so I can tell him how nice everything was?”

André gave her a smile. “I'm sure he'd be pleased to see you, just as long as you don't stay very long.”

“Oh, no. I know he must be a real busy man. I'm going to pop my head in, say what I have to say, then come back and wait for Miss Sable to finish her errand at the post office.”

“Good. Then come. I'll escort you upstairs.”

André knocked on the closed office door. When Archer responded, he opened it and said, “Miss Turpin wanted to speak with you for just a moment.”

Archer stood up from behind his desk, then gestured in the direction of one of the chairs. “Certainly. Miss Turpin, please have a seat.”

André withdrew, leaving Archer and the old woman alone.

“What may I help you with?”

“You know, you're a fine-looking man, Mr. Le Veq.”

“Um, thank you.”

“You know an older woman knows a whole lot more than a young one.”

Archer went still. “Was there something you wanted, Miss Turpin?”

Using her real voice, Zahra said, “I just wanted to say thank you for the lovely lunch.”

His eyes wide, he choked out, “Zahra!”

“In the flesh. I'm glad I didn't set a wager when I told Sable you wouldn't be fooled. I would have lost.”

He came around the desk and stared. “My God. Look at you.”

“Not bad, eh?”

“Not at all,” he echoed. “You look like an old woman.”

“Thank you very much. It was what I was hoping for.”

She then told him about the distribution of Crete's likeness. “Sable promises that all of her people will be discreet.”

Archer approved of the plan, but he couldn't get over her transformation. “I have no idea how long it might have taken me to see past the disguise, if ever.”

“The measure of a good disguise.”

“How'd you make yourself plumper?”

“Cotton batting, and if I don't get back to your mother's soon, I'm going to wilt.”

“When you told us last night that you were going to hand out the drawings, I was concerned that you might be seen by Crete. But if I couldn't recognize you, I know he wouldn't have been able to. That's a fantastic getup.”

“Hope you didn't mind the joke at your expense.”

“No, I'm too impressed to be offended.” And he was—there wasn't an ounce of Zahra anywhere in the disguise. “I've never disguised myself. Maybe if I had I wouldn't have wound up hanging like a side of beef in Crete's barn.”

“How were you found out?”

“I was playing the role of a Cuban planter touring the area looking to expand my holdings. In reality, though, I was looking for the maps.”

Zahra knew that part.

“But when I walked up to Crete's door, one of the men with him was a man I thought to be working intelligence for the BMI, because I had seen him a few times on other missions. Apparently he was a counteragent for the Confederacy, because he gave me away as soon as Crete escorted me into the parlor.”

Zahra shook her head. She'd heard tales that the first James Lafayette had encountered the same sort of situation; the man on the other side had just been pretending to spy for the British. “If you hadn't been found out, we might never have met.”

“True.” Still enjoying her surprising new persona, he asked, “So what are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“Sable's going to drop me by Wilma's so I can put Minnie Turpin to rest, and see if any reports come in that need to be passed on to Araminta. Wilma has already sent on the information about the Death Books. Araminta wired back her intentions to alert everyone who is listed.”

“Good. They need to be made aware of the danger.”

The book was now locked away in the wall safe in Archer's bedroom.

Zahra said, “I should get going. Sable will be back shortly, if she hasn't returned already. I will see you this evening?”

“Most definitely.”

“Shall I wear this getup to bed for you?”

“No!”

His emphatic answer made her laugh. “Just thought I would ask.”

He had amusement in his eyes.

Zahra said in Minnie's wavering voice, “Come, give Miss Minnie a kiss and you can get back to your work.”

He walked to her, but when she turned up her lips, he planted the kiss on her cheek.

Zahra grinned. “Coward.”

“Yes, ma'am. There's nothing arousing about you whatsoever. You look like I imagine mother's Aunt Vi would look.”

Zahra's amusement increased. “Okay, but I expect a bit more enthusiasm tonight or you'll wake up to Minnie in the morning.”

He laughed. “And you would do that, wouldn't you?”

“Without a bit of shame.”

Archer studied her and again wondered how he was going to let her go. “I'll see you this evening and Minnie had better be asleep in another room.”

“She will be.” Waggling her fingers good-bye, Zahra left him and closed the door behind her.

 

Zahra waved good-bye to Sable then entered Wilma's shop. Her old friend greeted her, saying for the benefit of the other customers, “Hello, Mrs. Turpin, would you like to rest a bit in the back
and have some refreshment? We can talk about hiring you after that.”

“Sounds like a good idea. This leg of mine is paining me something fierce.”

Wilma escorted Zahra to a small back room. “There's tea there. Rest a minute while I see to these customers then I'll come back and help you out of those clothes.”

“Thanks.”

Zahra took a few sips of the tea, then looked in her cup. The brew had a strange taste. She was about to bring the cup to her nose to smell the contents when a dizziness began creeping over her. She stood up intending to call for Wilma but she crumpled to the floor and everything went black.

When Zahra awakened her head was pounding and she had an awful taste in her mouth. Somewhere outside of the fog clouding her brain she heard Wilma say, “Drink this, lass.”