He took a moment to swallow down the frustration. “What do I have to do, Hersh? Tell you all about yourself? Spend an hour reminiscing about all our exploits? I can do that. I can—”
“Don’t waste my time.” The coin flipped again, was caught and clutched. Herschel’s mustache twitched. “Even if you are who you say you are, this is your fault. Slade disappeared without so much as a by your leave, and then that—that usurper came and undid months of our work. Years. We had to reorganize everything. Double our guard on Lincoln. I had to listen to the screeches of Mrs. Lincoln for a week on end, and no apology can undo that.”
“I know, but…” His watch felt heavy in his pocket. He didn’t need to pull it out to know he hadn’t much time here. Why use it on an apology that wouldn’t be accepted anyway? “We were right. About the plot before the first inauguration—or close, anyway. They were planning to kidnap him, they say, not to kill him.”
Was that a spark of interest in Herschel’s eyes? He couldn’t be sure. His friend had a poker face as well tuned as Slade’s. But he would press on, assuming it was. “They want to try again, now, before the next inauguration. I’ve told them security will be too tight, but they want me to find a way around it.”
The muscle in his friend’s jaw pulsed. “And you come here? To me?”
“Not for what you think.” Though he wasn’t sure exactly what Hersh did think. If he were really here to gain information underhandedly, to betray the cause he had sworn his life to, he wouldn’t have just admitted it, would he?
The coin flipped again. Herschel looked to be physically biting his tongue, given the mean-looking grimace on his face.
Its reflection settled in Slade’s chest. God had forgiven, but his friends might never do so, even if he single-handedly brought down the KGC. And then what? Pinkerton would place him someplace else, on some other assignment with new men, men who didn’t know him. But it would never be the same. And that set up an ache not so different from the one that had attacked him each of the two nights he had settled to sleep after that stupid kiss the other day.
The ache of knowing that something was, and maybe should be, forever out of reach, no matter how much he might want it.
Resignation edged out the intensity. “They’ll plan to kidnap him another time. After the inauguration. I’ll know the details, and I’ll make sure you do too, so you can strengthen the guard or change what needs changed.” Given the next twitch of Herschel’s mustache, he splayed a hand against the table. “You have to believe me. Like you did that night at the docks.”
Appealing to the shared memory achieved nothing but the crossing of Herschel’s arms. “Yeah, the other you knew that one too.”
Blast it to pieces. Ross had never seemed to pay attention to all the stories he had told his parents on that trip home a year ago. But he had been, apparently. He had used them all against him, and now here he was. Brotherless, and friendless to boot. He pushed to his feet. “You ought to know me better than this, Hersh. I don’t care how good an actor my brother was, you ought to know me, now.”
He pulled out his watch, unfastened it from the fob he had borrowed from his friend more than a year ago. He tossed the silver chain onto the table. “You won’t believe this either, I know. But it’s yours, so take it.”
Not waiting to see Herschel’s reaction, he pivoted and strode back through the crowded tavern. He’d made it two steps out into the cool Washington evening when a hand on his arm stopped him.
Herschel’s eyes had changed. The shuttered look was gone, though that just meant the caution shone through. “Ross didn’t have your watch. He said he lost it but didn’t apologize about losing my fob. That’s when I knew something was wrong. That he wasn’t…that you weren’t yourself. I didn’t mention it to him. I assume you never did either.”
A corner of Slade’s mouth pulled up. “And have my father find out I’d lost the one he gave me?”
His friend exhaled a long breath and let go Slade’s arm. “What do you need to know?”
When he got back to Baltimore, back to the safety of his room, he’d fall to his knees and praise the Almighty.
He pulled Herschel into the nearest alley and shared in a low voice the Knights’ would-be plans for taking Lincoln before the inauguration. They were all vague, at best—possible places where they could grab him.
To each and every one, Herschel grinned and gave the same reply. “Covered.”
“Good.” Slade nodded after the last one. “I assumed it would be, but I needed to be able to assure them of it. They’ll be watching, and if I say you will be somewhere you’re not…”
Herschel nodded and glanced toward the street. “You need them to trust you if you hope to undermine them. But Slade…tread carefully.”
Slade. Peace swept through him, despite the warning. “I’ll be in touch when they have a plan in place.”