“We know, Mr. Figg, that Hugh Larney is in hiding, most likely on property he owns. He needs space enough to properly prepare his man for the duel. Larney is wealthy, far wealthier than most people know. By long and arduous effort in reading tax ledgers and records of land sales, I have learned that Hugh Larney owns three well-appointed homes here in Manhattan. He also is in possession of numerous tracts of undeveloped land, which he expects to be worth a fortune to him as Manhattan expands northward. To be exact, he owns nine parcels of land, parcels of various sizes. And he has not made his holdings public. Most are abandoned, which is to say they show no record of development and only carry the minimum of tax liabilities. Larney, his man Thor and the wounded woman are on one of these tracts of land. It has taken me until today to learn this. To investigate all of this land, which lies in most rugged areas, would take days if not weeks.”
Figg said, “We don’t ‘ave days and weeks.”
“I am aware of this, dear friend. I suggest that on the day of the duel, we somehow force Larney to tell us-not where he has hidden the woman. I suggest we force him to tell us where on his land Jonathan is performing the dark ritual.”
Figg’s voice was nearer, but still he remained hidden in darkness.
“You tellin’ me for certain that Hugh Larney is hidin’ Jonathan?”
“It cannot be otherwise. The dead physician, the wounded woman both indicate a contact made between Larney and Jonathan. At this most important time, who else could Jonathan turn to for a place that would allow him privacy? Volney Gunning owned real estate but most of it is here in Manhattan, acres and acres of abominable housing given over to immigrants. He had some land outside of New York but it is settled on; it is only a modest amount of productive farm land. Miles Standish had stock investments, no real estate at all. That leaves Larney.”
Figg said, “Perhaps Jonathan had land of his own.”
“I doubt it. He was in Europe until recently, was he not? He roamed the world, and he was always in need of funds, funds which he secured from such as Larney and Gunning, from others he humbugged as Dr. Paracelsus. I have been to Jonathan’s home.”
“’Ave you now.”
“A Mrs. Sontag, pointed out as a patroness of Dr. Paracelsus, escorted me. She fancies herself a poet and was flattered at being asked by me if she would consent to show me some of her poetry. In exchange she took me to the site of her spiritualist experiences, costly ones I might add. The house no longer stands. It was burned to the ground a week ago.”
“When ‘e left to begin his dark deed.”
“Exactly. He is elsewhere, Mr. Figg, and that elsewhere is known to Larney. I stake my life on it.”
“All of us, we are stakin’ our lives on this business.”
Poe pointed his stick. “Red candles. Red is the color of life. The Celtic ancient tribes believed that to dance around flame was a method of raising power. That is also why certain rituals were performed naked, to allow the power to flow unobstructed.”
Figg cleared his throat. “I does what makes me comfortable. I ain’t been in a prize ring in seven years and I will be facin’ a younger man, a stronger man, a killer. I does what is comfortable, Mr. Poe.”
Poe smiled. “I have been told that when one speaks of black magic, one is speaking of what others are involved in.”
Figg snapped, “Ain’t no black magic bein’ done ’ere.”
“Forgive me, dear friend. I-”
“Jes doin’ what’s comfortable, is all.”
Poe looked around in the darkness. Blankets over the windows, a stale, musty odor inside. Darkness lit only by two red candles. Figg was returning to the strength of his ancestors. No matter how much he denied it, ‘the cult of the wise’ was within him.
The boxer must be a desperate, frightened man. Suddenly Poe started coughing and couldn’t stop. His head spun and he blacked out, pitching forward and down the stairs.
When he opened his eyes, a worried, sweating and naked Figg was hovering over him.
“You been workin’ too hard, squire.” The hostility was gone from Figg’s voice.
“I am a man of honor, Mr. Figg, and I have a debt. I owe you for agreeing to fight in my stead, and so I am doing all I can to locate Larney and Jonathan. I feel certain,” he coughed, “certain that Larney knows Jonathan’s hiding place and that hiding place is on property owned by Larney.”
He coughed again. Figg bent down, lifting him into a sitting position.
“Bet you ain’t been eatin’ much.”
“I take my cue from you, sir.”
“I does what must be done.”
“I know.”
Figg sighed. “I feel the need of this, Mr. Poe. Them crowds outside, they look at me like I am an animal, something penned up in ‘ere for their amusement. It’s a game to them, somethin’ to cheer on. For me, it could be me last fight. The blackamoor is strong and I do not mind tellin’ you in the quiet of this room that I am a man with more than small fears within ‘im. I have been in this country almost two weeks and it could well be that I die ’ere. I feel tired, Mr. Poe, tired and alone. Huntin’ Jonathan has taken much out of me. I am not a young man anymore and me skills are not what they used to be. I feel the need to prepare in this fashion and I would be thankin’ you muchly if you were not to tell anyone what you have seen down ’ere or what you have deducted with yer thinkin’!”
Poe nodded. “You have my word, Mr. Figg. Nothing that has transpired in this room will pass my lips. And I shall insist that Bootham stop your exuberant fellow Englishmen from rapping at your window.”
“Blankets can keep their bleedin’ faces from me sight, but not their knuckles from tappin’ on the glass. They are enjoyin’ themselves makin’ wagers and cursin’ the Americans. I figger to be their bleedin’ savior, it appears.”
He and Poe smiled. Poe said, “A residue of the two wars between our countries, dear friend. It is harmless, this patriotic excess. Barnum is growing impatient to see you. He is your champion.”
“’E sees me on the day of the fight. Make it known that anyone what comes down them stairs is riskin’.”
“Done. I shall calm Mr. Bootham, and myself, allow me to return here on the day appointed to escort you to the site. The police have wind of the duel and will do their best to prevent it. Prizefighting and all forms of personal combat are prohibited, which does not in any way stop them from occurring. They merely occur in secret.”
And men bear their pain in quiet forests and on secluded farmland.
There was a light tapping at a tiny cellar window. An English voice shouted, “Hello in there! You are our man, Pierce James Figg! Our money is on you! A cheer for Figg. Hip, hip hooray! Hip, hip hooray! Hip, hip hooray!”
An unimpressed Figg looked towards the sound. “Like to kick them all in the bleedin’ arse with a pair of hobnail boots, I would. Bet Mr. Bootham’s neighbors got their own thoughts on all this ’ere noise what’s going’ on.”
Poe took a bloodstained handkerchief from his greatcoat pocket and coughed into it. It was the lavender handkerchief given him by Figg.
“I shall give your regards to Rachel and to the child, Dearborn. She is a delightful creature, little Dearborn. So much like my Sissy.”
“Make sure you eats some decent grub. You looks like a horse sat on you.”
Poe smiled. “I dare say I do not resemble a dashing beau. My gratitude for the use of your room at the boarding house. With my perennially impaired financial position-”
“It’s yers, mate. Rent has been paid fer two weeks. If I get meself kilt by the blackamoor, you got a place to mourn. If, if somethin’ like that does ’appen, there are some private things in me carpetbag, a ring that belonged to me wife, a tiny paintin’ of her and Will. There is a family bible and-”