"When the renovations happened, did the construction crews find anything unusual?"
Eli chewed and looked up to the ceiling as if the tiles above would somehow help him recall the answer. "Not that I remember. What is it you two are looking for, anyway?"
"A document," Sean said quickly.
Tommy's head swiveled. He surveyed the room, making sure no one else was paying attention. The cooks and the girl working the register were busy running the restaurant.
When Tommy spoke, it was in a hushed tone. "Keep this hush-hush," he said.
Eli nodded that he understood.
"When Booth killed Lincoln, he came back here to get ammunition and food before heading to Doctor Mudd." Tommy shoved a pile of rice into his mouth.
"You think Booth left something here?"
"No, sir," Sean said. "Someone else did."
Eli's forehead wrinkled. "Who?"
"You're a history guy," Sean said. "So, you know Lewis Powell tried to assassinate William Seward that night, too."
"That is correct. Powell also came here that night. He was arrested here the next day." Eli paused to reflect for a moment. "You think it was Powell that brought a document here?"
"Maybe," Sean said. "But I guess we'll never know. We can't very well look upstairs. And this floor wasn't the main floor when Mary Surratt was running a boarding house here."
Eli nodded. Sean was right. It wasn't until years later that the ground floor became the main entrance. By then, Mary Surratt's family was long gone.
"Mary Surratt's family," Eli said.
"Excuse me?" Tommy chirped. "What about her family?"
"This is a long shot. I don't know if it will help or not. Mary had a son, John Jr. He hung around many of the nights Booth and the others conspired to take down the government. He was involved heavily with the Confederate cause in multiple instances, working from behind enemy lines to get them supplies or let them know about troop movements by the North."
"John was arrested later and then let go. They said he didn't have anything to do with the conspiracy," Sean said.
"That's correct. While his mother and three others were hanged for their crimes, John was not. I'm not sure if it was because he was younger or what. The other men they hanged were pretty young themselves. Anyway, the boarding house was operating at a loss and had to be sold to pay off the family debts. Their family farmhouse, on the other hand, is still standing today. There's a little museum inside it, complete with all the original furnishings, woodwork, everything."
Sean and Tommy sat up a little straighter.
"Let me see if I'm following your thought here. You think if Powell brought the document back here, John Surratt may have hidden it in his family home?" Tommy asked.
Eli confirmed with a nod. "It's possible. I have no idea what you two are looking for or why, and frankly I'm fine with reading about it in the news when you make an announcement. But yes, if Powell did bring something back here, John Surratt may have hidden it at their farm."
Sean listened intensely. He pointed a finger at Eli. "You might be onto something. The conspirators thought through pretty much everything. They'd have to believe that the authorities might connect the dots."
"Right," Tommy said. "And those dots would have led straight back to here."
"So, John Surratt took the document and fled back to the family homestead."
"And if he did that, it's extremely likely he hid it somewhere in the house," Eli said. "Back in those days, people used to hide things in the ground along prominent roads or near local landmarks. If it's paper you're looking for, I doubt he would have done that. The elements would destroy it in no time. If that document still exists, and no one ever found it, it might be worth a look at the family house."
"Where is that property?" Tommy asked.
"Not too far from here. It's in Clinton, Maryland. Nothing but gas stations and strip malls around it, but the historical societies have managed to keep the Surratt farmhouse safe from destruction."
"Thank you for your help," Sean said.
"Happy to lend a hand," Eli said.
He wiped his fingers clean on a couple of napkins and then dabbed one at the corner of his mouth to get a smudge of sauce still lingering on his lips. He stood up and picked up his tray. "It's been nice chatting with you, gentlemen. I have to get going. Perhaps I'll see you around again sometime. Best of luck on your adventure."
"Thanks," the two said in tandem.
Eli disposed of his tray and ventured out onto the cold Washington sidewalk.
"What do you think?" Tommy asked, taking another big bite of his food.
Sean was chewing his own food while searching for something on his phone's web browser. "He's right about the Surratt farmhouse not being far from here. We could shoot over there and have a look. It's definitely worth a shot."
"What if we don't find anything?" A piece of rice dangled from the corner of Tommy's lips.
"From the sound of it, we're not going to find what we're looking for here, either. May as well take a short drive out to the country and take a gander."
"Gander?"
"Yeah, you know, have a look around."
"Sorry, I just didn't realize it was 1954."
Sean shook his head and scooped up the last remains of his noodles. "I like old-school words. So?"
Tommy pouted his lips and rolled his shoulders. "I'm not judging."
"Really? It feels a little like you're judging."
"Like all those times you told me to get in better shape?"
Sean chuckled. "And don't you feel so good now that you are?"
The door opened, ringing the bell over the frame.
Tommy's eyes flashed to his left, taking note of the big man walking into the restaurant. He had long black hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore a heavy Gore-Tex coat.
"That's not the point," Tommy said.
"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings when I brought up your health. It wasn't to make fun. Okay? It's because I care. I've known you longer than any of my other friends. You're like family to me. I apologize for wanting you to be around a while."
The big man who'd just come in the door looked over at the two friends. They didn't see him staring, and they didn't notice when he started unzipping his coat, revealing Egyptian tattoos on his neck and upper chest.
"Wow," Tommy said. He sat back against the booth and took in a deep breath. "A tender moment from Sean Wyatt. That doesn't happen often."
Sean shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "Are you done eating? We should get going."
"Aww. Did I hit a soft spot?"
"No. But we need to get out of the city before traffic starts up again."
"It's DC," Tommy said. "There's always traffic."
Sean picked up his and Tommy's trays and spun toward the trashcan next to the door. Then he saw the tattooed man standing ten feet away. He was at least six-six and looked like a body builder. Then Sean saw the guy pulling two huge handguns out of shoulder holsters.
"Get down!" Sean yelled.
Chapter 25
The man whipped the pistols out.
Before he could fire, Sean flung one of the trays like a Frisbee, striking the big man square in the face.
The blow stung and stunned the guy enough that his hands pointed up just enough that when he fired the weapons that the rounds flew through the wall over Tommy's head.
Sean didn't wait for him to recover. He charged the shooter, jumping at the last second to hit him with a flying kick to the chest.
The gunman was faster than he looked for a big, muscular guy. He stepped aside and swung the base of one of the pistols into Sean's back. As he spun around, he swung the other arm in Sean's direction and took aim at the back of his head.