At Harper's Ferry
Chapter 5
The War Office on 17th Avenue sat adjacent to the White House. It was a large, white marbled building, originally built before the turn of the century. Jack pulled himself off of his horse and then tied her to a hitching post on the street. He gently patted the mare’s side while he watched a number of soldiers coming and going into the building. Guards were standing on each side of the front entrance, their weapons held nonchalantly. Seeing the army guards reminded him of the old days when his regiment was confined to a fort. These soldiers, like any other, would be tired of standing in one place for so long. Jack thought it would be best to be careful when approaching these men since they would be prone to suspicion just out of sheer boredom. Holding his hands out in the open, he made his approach.
One of the guards carefully looked Jack over. He returned the steady gaze and then carefully pulled a calling card from his jacket pocket. “My name is Blackwood. I’m here to talk to a Mister James Forsythe on behalf of the Hanson family,” he said. “I have a note of introduction from Congressman Hanson.” He handed the paper and the card over to the soldier.
“One minute, sir.” The soldier nodded, took the papers, and entered the building. He returned a few minutes later with another man. “This is Forsythe’s personal secretary, Mister Johnson.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mister Blackwood,” Johnson said politely. He had the quiet and inauspicious manner of a career clerk. “Now if you would come with me, I will take you to see Mister Forsythe.”
Jack followed Johnson into the high-ceilinged hall. Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as they made their way to the large, curving stairway. They climbed laboriously up to the second floor where there were numerous offices opening to the hallway. The atmosphere was one of barely controlled chaos with several clerks scooting back and forth between the rooms, carrying correspondence.
“You're looking busy here,” Jack commented.
“Yes, matters have become quite active lately. But please come this way,” Johnson intoned solemnly.
He ushered Jack through a doorway, walked past an empty secretary’s desk and then into an imposing dark-paneled office. Behind the desk was a middle-aged man with a thin moustache. As Jack entered, he paused from looking at a sheaf of papers. The man gave a minute nod to his secretary, who left, shutting the door. Gesturing to Jack, he pointed at an empty chair across from the desk.
“Mister Forsythe?” Jack asked.
“As you can see, I’m a very busy man. What exactly did you want to talk to me about?” Forsythe said with quick, sharp words. His appearance was haggard – obviously a man who worried too much.
Jack had considered how to approach this man on his ride to the office building. So he measured his words carefully before speaking. “My name is Blackwood. I’ve been asked by the Hanson family to inquire after Lawrence Hanson’s disappearance. I was hoping you could give me some more information about those missing papers.”
“Just exactly who are you Mister Blackwood?” Forsythe asked bluntly.
“I am a detective.”
“A detective? So you make a living prying into the business of others.” Forsythe’s tone was one of distaste.
Jack decided at this point it was better to be polite. “I’ve been working as a detective in Washington for the past four years. I originally worked for Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency. I made good money when I worked for him, but I tired of the constant travel. I don’t earn as much with my own practice, but I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself.”
“Pinkerton, eh? They’ve been useful to us in the past.”
“I can also be useful to you if you would let me. As I was saying, what can you tell me about Lawrence Hanson?”
Forsythe’s eyes suddenly blazed with anger. “That’s simple enough. He’s a thief and a scoundrel. That is all you need to know about him.” Forsythe looked harshly at him with bloodshot eyes, the lips curling in hatred.
“I’m afraid I’ll need to know more than that,” Jack said sharply. He kept his eyes level with Forsythe as he spoke. “His family is worried about Lawrence and I’m going to be representing them while this search for him takes place. Now what exactly did he take from here that is so important?”
“He stole some extremely sensitive documents from this very office. Our strategic situation could be dire if that information is leaked to the Secessionists. I have great respect for Daniel Hanson which was the only reason I employed the boy in the first place. Otherwise I had great misgivings about the matter. Rumor was that Lawrence was a ne’er do well, but I was still willing to give him a chance.”
“What are you doing now to regain the papers?”
“I have several of my men combing the city to trace the whereabouts of Lawrence, and they will take him by force if necessary.” Forsythe then stood up, gripping the edges of his desk and raised his voice. “We should have suspected Hanson of being a spy - he’d behaved less than honorably in the past. But with his father’s credentials, it was hard to think that someone like that would be so traitorous.” He then gave a short embarrassed sigh and looked out the window, evading Jack’s eyes.
Jack was beginning not to care for this man at all, who seemed to have a hair-trigger temper. “I don’t care about his guilt or innocence,” he said. “My job is to find out where he is.”
“I understand your position, but you must know that Lawrence is definitely guilty. When he is caught, he will be tried for treason and most likely hanged if I have anything to do with it.”
“His family will attend to clearing his name, if that is possible. If some evidence comes to light proving his innocence, I will pass that on to them. My job is just to find him. I don’t care about his innocence or guilt. Now he couldn’t have gone far unless he managed to escape from the city. Right now, I know it is difficult to leave Washington through normal channels due to the war situation, but if someone really needed to get out of the city then there is always a way.
Forsythe said impatiently, “We haven’t seen or heard anything of his whereabouts yet, but we have several leads that we are following.”
“I see,” Jack said noncommittally.
“You must understand that this is an extremely sensitive government issue. My suggestion to you, sir, is to leave this matter in our hands. We will find him no matter where he hides. And I personally don’t like the interference of outsiders, be they journalists or hired detectives.” His expression changed to an expression of forced formality.
Jack pulled a cigar from his pocket. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I will have to do my job unless the family thinks otherwise. I came here hoping we could help each other out.” He pulled out a match and lit the cigar, the ghost of a smile on his mouth.
Forsythe waved the cigar smoke away and looked at him with some distaste. But then the face suddenly softened. “Perhaps you may be of some assistance in this matter. Please remember that if you do find Lawrence, you will have to let me know immediately.”
“If the family agrees, then I can do that. If I do find the papers, I will immediately return them to you. They are of no concern to me since I’ve only been hired to find Lawrence.”
"You must understand that these are awkward times. Tell me, do you have any ties to the South?"
Jack laughed. "I'm Yankee through and through. You can also check my army record if you have any doubts to my loyalty."
“I will. Keep in mind those plans are more important than any man’s life. We need the information held in those papers to remain secret.”
“I know you cannot necessarily tell me, but what exactly were the papers about, and what makes them so important to you?” Jack asked. He looked about for an ash tray, found none, so instead tapped his cigar ash on the floor. “If I knew what they contained, perhaps I could figure out who might be after them, and why.”
Forsythe cleared his throat, dropped his voice, and spoke in a s
ecretive tone. “This is strictly confidential, even though those blasted newspapers will have the story printed soon enough. The Anaconda Plan was drafted just a few weeks ago. It is too sensitive to share any specifics with you, but they detail future Army and Navy movements. Part of our plan is to stop the South from getting materials to prosecute the war. General Winfield Scott wrote the Anaconda Plan to blockade the Southern ports and take control of the entire Mississippi. By isolating the South, we shall force it to capitulate since without the money from selling their cotton, they won’t be able to fight for any length of time.”
Jack thought about this before answering. If those plans fell into enemy hands, it would increase the length of the war and put more troops into harm’s way. “I can understand how important this would be to the War Department.” he said earnestly.
“Keep that in mind, or there may be trouble for you,” Forsythe said, his blood-veined eyes narrowing.
Jack stood up to leave. He opened the door and turned to face Forsythe. “I’ve seen a lot of trouble in my time. I reckon some more won’t hurt. I certainly don't expect any real trouble from the likes of you.” He then left before he heard Forsythe’s reaction.
Johnson, the clerk, was sitting at his desk when Jack passed him by. He smiled at Jack and gave him a nod as if pleased to see Forsythe had been talked to in such a forward manner.