"Excuse me," the officer said. His stern voice and immaculate uniform could only mean trouble. Although he was just a captain, only an officer of some importance on one of Richmond's administrative staffs would have such a splendid uniform. Dandy was the word that came to Percy's mind.
"Damn headquarters peacock," Hazlett muttered, loud enough for the officer to hear.
"Can I help you?" Percy asked. He eyed the officer warily. Although they had reached a better part of town where several bands of soldiers roamed the street, the captain appeared to have been waiting just for them. Not a good sign. Percy wondered if he was being arrested.
"Are you Colonel Arthur Percy?"
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"I am Captain Fletcher. You are to come with me. Colonel Norris's orders." Fletcher sniffed, then added, "Sir."
Percy thought quickly. He had never heard of any Colonel Norris. Not that it mattered. As a field officer, Percy knew well enough that he was nearly ignorant of Richmond's military bureaucracy. That was just the way he liked it.
Colonel Norris, whoever he was, must be a man of some importance if he sent well-dressed fools like this arrogant captain to run his errands. At any rate, the summons did not appear to include his men, a fact for which Percy was grateful. He didn't know what this was about, but it couldn't be good.
"All right, Fletcher, lead the way," Percy said. "Hudson, you come with me. I'll see you men later. See that you stay out of trouble."
Captain Fletcher looked Hudson up and down, making no effort to hide his displeasure. "Who is this darkie?"
"He's my servant and he goes where I go," Percy said. "And that reminds me, Fletcher. Isn't it customary for a captain to salute a colonel? Or don't you bother with that sort of thing in Richmond?"
Fletcher's eyes filled with sudden venom. It was obvious the well-groomed captain thought it beneath him to salute a ragged colonel.
"Very well, Colonel." Fletcher managed a half-hearted salute.
Percy smiled. "Lead on, Captain Fletcher."
Chapter 5
Captain Fletcher had a carriage waiting around the corner. Percy and the captain climbed inside while the two soldiers pulled themselves up to share the buckboard with the driver. Hudson clung to the back of the carriage.
Percy wondered if he had made a mistake in bringing Hudson along, considering he didn't know what any of this was about. Although Fletcher hadn't placed him under arrest, the soldiers bore an uncomfortable resemblance to guards.
"Where are we going, Captain?" Percy asked as cheerfully as he could under the circumstances. "And who is this Colonel Norris?"
Fletcher raised an eyebrow, as if amazed that someone had not heard of Norris. "He's chief of the Confederate Signal Bureau," Fletcher said haughtily. "Which is, of course, where we’re going?"
"The Signal Bureau?" Percy couldn't imagine what in the world someone from the Signal Bureau wanted of him. He had never even heard of it.
Fletcher smiled at his confusion. "Let's just say things aren't always as they seem, Colonel."
Percy could see any conversation with Fletcher was going to be antagonistic, so he gave up and stared out the window. What he saw did not inspire great hope in the future of the Confederacy. The muddy streets were strewn with garbage. Most of the buildings they passed, homes and businesses alike, needed a coat of paint. Knots of ragged soldiers drifted by, looking haggard and dirty, and the civilians he saw, mostly women, children and old men, wore threadbare clothes. Only a few appeared to have done well by the war, and they were the whores, whoremasters, and black market traders who paraded the streets, flaunting their ill-gotten finery in the faces of proper Richmond society.
As the carriage passed, Percy caught the eye of a pretty and garishly dressed young lady. She couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, but the elaborate silk dress she wore made no secret of her trade. The girl smiled and Percy tipped his hat and grinned wolfishly out the carriage window.
"Nobody knew the war would fill the city with whores," Fletcher said, sounding disgusted. The truth was, he was a regular at many of Richmond's whorehouses, but he liked to pretend otherwise.
Percy laughed. "Hell, Captain. Every country girl with a pretty face and some ambition is making her fortune. It's better than being wife to some farmer and spending her days feeding chickens and raising children. Besides," he said, staring after the girl, who in turn stood with a pout, watching the carriage as it rolled away. "That one might just be worth a month's pay."
"I should have known a man of your reputation—" Fletcher began to say, then stopped himself upon noticing Percy's expression.
"What reputation might that be, Captain?" Percy asked, his voice dangerously brittle. The girl was gone from sight and he gave Fletcher his full attention. His eyes appeared to change color from clear blue to the color of mountains before a storm.
"Well… I misspoke, Colonel," Fletcher sputtered. “Please forgive me.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Percy was unimpressed when they arrived. There was nothing about the building that housed the Confederate Signal Bureau to indicate its real purpose. Fletcher led the way to Norris's office and introduced Percy, then disappeared, shutting the door discreetly behind him.
Colonel Norris did not look sinister, Percy thought. If anything, he resembled a strict school teacher. Norris had a medium build and was of average height, with thick brown hair and a full beard through which small, even teeth flashed in a smile. Although his uniform wasn't tattered like a field officer's, it was plain enough. Unlike many administrative officers, including the obnoxious Captain Fletcher, Norris obviously did not hold gold braid or fancy tailoring in high regard.
"Thank you for coming, Colonel," Norris said.
"Did I really have any choice?"
Norris laughed. "We all have choices. As a matter of fact, Colonel, I'm about to offer you one."
An uneasy feeling took hold in Percy's belly. "What might that be?"
"In due time, Colonel. In due time. Let me explain my position."
Norris paused to offer Percy a cigar. He accepted, and tobacco smoke soon drifted in great clouds toward the high, plaster ceiling.
"You've heard of the Andrews train raid, Colonel?"
"Who hasn't?"
It had been one of the Union's most daring feats of the war. In April 1862, a Yankee spy and contraband trader named James Andrews had slipped South with twenty-two men. They seized a Confederate train outside Atlanta and raced north toward Chattanooga, wrecking tracks as they went, to prevent the Confederates from sending reinforcements to the Tennessee city as the Union army attacked. The raiders were eventually caught and most of them hanged. The incident had been in all the newspapers.
"I propose doing something of the same sort, Colonel Percy. And I need your help."
Percy eyed Norris suspiciously. "What is this place?" he asked. "Who are you?"
Norris waved the cigar in his hand as he spoke. "Officially, this place is the Signal Bureau. In reality, it's headquarters for the Confederate Secret Service. The war is fought in many ways, Colonel Percy. Not just on the battlefield. There are spies, of course. Subtle acts of allowing misleading information to fall into enemy hands."
"And you're the commander of this army of spies?" Percy asked. "I take it that you also arrange train raids?"
"Just this one, so far."
Percy shook his head. "Well, I'm not interested."
He stood, ready to take his leave. Norris did not appear the least bit perturbed. "Thank you for the cigar, sir. But you'll have to steal this train without me." "At least hear me out, Colonel."