City of Glory (47 page)

“They’ll cross at Bladensburg, Mr. President. It’s the shallowest point. They can ford if they must.”

They were at the Navy Yard in Washington. Madison, God help him, was surrounded by those who felt qualified to give advice: two generals and half a dozen members of the cabinet. But only the president seemed to be paying attention to the surveyor. He was Astor’s scout, not strictly speaking theirs. That, to Madison’s mind, was a recommendation; Jacob Astor always employed the best. “Yes, very well. I’m sure you’re right.” He turned to the general on his right. “You heard?”

“The village of Bladensburg. Yes, well it’s possible. But there are two other bridges into the District before they get there. Surely they’ll take the most direct—”

It occurred to the president to inquire as to why all the bridges giving access to the Federal District had not long since been blown up, but he was weary of the man’s excuses. “General, this man and his companion”—Madison nodded in the direction of the marksman—“have been tracking the enemy for four days. Have you, sir, had any spies in such close contact for so long a period?”

“No sir, Mr. President, I cannot say that I have.”

“Very well. Bladensburg. Give the order.”

There were some thousand troops nearby. Minutes later they were on the march. President Madison himself led the charge, his horse loping out ahead of all the others, the diminutive president looking slightly silly astride the mighty beast but gallantly spurring him on.

New York City, Broadway at Barclay Street, 10:30
A.M.

“Chi le fan meiyou?”
Joyful asked. Have you eaten rice today? He gave Ah Wong a wide smile.

“
Chi le. Chi le.
Prease forrow me.” The butler turned abruptly from the door.

Joyful thought they had established a degree of alliance and mutual respect after the butler gave him rice for Thumbless Wu. Now it did not seem so. Maybe because this time he arrived at the front door, and he came at Astor’s summons, which Wong probably knew. He shouldn’t read too much into it. No Westerner, not even he, would ever fully comprehend the Chinese idea of face, or how you lost or saved it.

He followed Ah Wong across the vast entryway, but this time they didn’t go into Astor’s study. He was led down a long corridor into a small dining room. It faced the gardens and sun streamed through open French windows. The warm air carried the scent of the tall lilies growing close by the house, pale purple with yellow throats and the scent of heaven. The fragrance immediately transported Joyful to his mother’s garden in Canton. The lilies must have come from China as well; he’d never seen them growing in New York. “Good morning, Mr. Astor. I came as soon as I got your note.”

“
Ja,
I knew you would. Even if I did not send it with one of the China people. Not sensible to have them too much on the streets while the city jumps at her shadow. Anything a little bit strange and
Pow!
” Astor mimed holding a musket to his shoulder and firing it.

Jacob Astor playing the clown; this was something new. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“About such things, Dr. Turner, always I am right. Though I’m sure it was disappointing to you not to have another opportunity to talk China talk. You have their language,
nicht wahr?
”

So Astor knew about his visit to the servants’ quarters to speak with Ah Wong. Who told him? The butler himself? One of the other servants? It didn’t matter. Joyful had assumed it would be so. Hell, he’d meant it to be so. “I speak Mandarin, yes sir. And Cantonese. A few of the other dialects as well.”

“So you will be a formidable trader, Dr. Turner. A rival to be reckoned with.”

“That’s one way to look at it, Mr. Astor. The other is that I’ll be a formidable ally.”

Astor smiled and nodded. “
Ja,
to me also that interpretation occurred. Please to sit down, Dr. Turner. And tell me something, since you know China talk. What is that word they use to mean what we speak about? Common cause, as you say in English.”

“
Guanxi.
Common cause is close, but…” The day’s heat was mounting swiftly even as they sat in this shaded spot. Sweat already poured down Joyful’s back. But the heat was not entirely to blame; he had a sense that something momentous was about to happen, some invisible line to be crossed. “There is no exact translation.”

“Guanxi. Ja.”
And when he saw Joyful’s expression: “I bungle the pronunciation, no? It is enough what I do to English. I should not try China talk. But however funny my speech comes out, Dr. Turner, I do not mistake men’s minds.”

“I’m sure you do not, Mr. Astor.”

“
Ja.
So I recognize when even a potential rival is more use to me strong than weak. Some things are more important than profit.”

“A few,” Joyful admitted. “Though that’s easier to say from your position than mine.”

Astor chuckled. “I take your meaning, Joyful. I may call you that since we are to be allies?”

His heart thumped and there was a wild singing in his head. Just like that and Gornt Blakeman was finished, a line on yesterday’s broadside. With Devrey Shipping literally in his pocket (Joyful could think of no safer place for the papers than on his person) and Jacob Astor beside him, he was unstoppable. Except what about F.X.’s message?
Astor’s with us.
The thought was enough to rein in his elation. “Allies, Mr. Astor. I’m delighted to hear it. And I’d be honored if you called me by my given name.”

“Good. And I will be Jacob. Now, Joyful, try some of this coffee.” He picked up a silver pot with a long spout and a gracefully turned handle. “It is the finest to be had. Even better, I think, than at the Tontine.”

Who had told Astor about Joyful’s visit to the coffeehouse? Geoffrey Colden probably, but any one of the traders might be thick with Astor, part of the consortium he’d formed to help finance the war. Jesus, another reason F.X.’s message made no sense. Why then give thousands to Madison? And if Jacob Astor were meeting with Gornt Blakeman to talk treason against the United States, would he leave his distinctive carriage parked in front of Blakeman’s premises?

Astor poured coffee into a delicate porcelain cup and offered the sugar bowl. Joyful took three lumps, stirred the coffee, then sipped it. “Finest I’ve ever tasted, sir. Without doubt.”

“So, I am glad, Joyful. But to praise my coffee is not why I asked you to come. That I did so I can tell you to your face. Exactly right you told it. Everything. Two nights ago I met with Gornt Blakeman in his countinghouse.”

Focus on the carom you’re trying to make, Joyful, and stop worrying about the shot your opponent may contemplate. “That meeting, sir. Might I ask how it came about?”

“
Ja,
of course. A note Blakeman sent me. I was to go to Hanover Street on a matter of great importance. Nonetheless, without you had come and told me what you thought would happen, I would not have gone, Joyful. Jacob Astor does not appear because someone says so. But I remembered your story and so I went to Blakeman’s countinghouse.”

Joyful waited. Astor sat back in his chair, sipped his coffee slowly, and watched the younger man over the rim of the cup. “He is very full of himself, our Mr. Blakeman. He fancies himself a king. To get upstairs to his private quarters I had to walk by a big man with a whip.” Another chuckle. “I think I was meant to feel afraid.”

“And did you?”

“
Nein,
Joyful. I was not afraid. Under my tongue I had a whistle. Look, I will show you.” Astor reached into his pocket and withdrew a round wooden object about an inch across and put it in his mouth. “So, still I can talk if not too many words.” The obstruction caused him only a slight lisp. “Now, listen.”

Joyful heard a single shrill note. Almost at the same instant a man appeared in the open French window. He had a rifle to his shoulder and he was peering down the sight and aiming straight at Joyful. Astor spit out the whistle and laughed.
“Ja, ja.”
He waved the man away. “Go back to your post. I was making only a demonstration.” He watched while the man disappeared, then turned back to Joyful. “Outside Blakeman’s countinghouse, three of them. They know how to hide themselves as well as shoot, my marksmen. The best one, he is not here just now, but the three who came with me last night…Good enough they are. The whipper would have been dead before his arm came down.”

“A private militia, Mr. Astor?” His voice sounded cooler than it might, considering that moments before he’d been looking down the barrel of a rifle.

“Jacob, you must call me. And yes, of course a private militia. It is what I need. But we waste time, Joyful.” Astor leaned forward, fixing the younger man in his gaze and speaking very quietly. “Gornt Blakeman has asked me to write to Vienna, to the Holy Roman emperor, Francis II. I am to say he should recognize New York and Massachusetts and Connecticut and probably Rhode Island as a separate country. They are to leave the United States and become a united something else. The name I do not know. But that Gornt Blakeman wishes to rule this something else, of that I am quite sure.”

“And in return for the recognition of the Holy Roman emperor?” He had not been sure which royal house would be chosen, only that Blakeman planned to use the stone to secure European recognition for his breakaway country. Not, as Manon feared, to cut the Great Mogul into smaller stones that could be sold in America. “He would present the world’s largest diamond as a token of the new country’s esteem?”

“
Ja.
Exactly as you said.” Then, after a pause, “You have seen this diamond, Joyful?”

“Never, Jacob.”

“Better not to see it. Blakeman showed me. So I would be impressed.”

“And were you?

“
Ja.
I tell you the truth. Blakeman,” Astor snapped his fingers. “Him I think like nothing. But his diamond…
Ja,
it impressed me here.” He pointed to his groin. “Like a beautiful woman. One you see and know you must have. Many men would be prepared to do anything for such a jewel. A Lorelei it is. A siren that sings a song no sailor can resist.”

“Until he is lured onto the rocks.”

“Exactly.”

“So do you now plan to have the Great Mogul for yourself?”

“At the expense my country should be broken up into little pieces that are not strong enough to survive? You disappoint me, Joyful.”

“But you, Jacob, do not disappoint
me.
”

Astor smiled. So did Joyful. Then the older man half stood and stretched his hand out to the younger. “Now, in my language, we are
Genossen.
Allies, I think you say. For the sake of the United States. Later, in business,
Teilhaber,
partners? We will see. Now we make
guanxi.
”

“Allies,” Joyful said, grasping the other man’s hand. Then, knowing if he didn’t ask now he’d never have an opportunity, “Jacob, why would F. X. Gallagher send a message to Gornt Blakeman saying Astor’s with us?”

Astor’s eyes narrowed. “Of this you are sure, Joyful?”

“Yes, I believe I can safely say I am.”

“And you think Mr. Gallagher, he means me?”

Joyful nodded.

“F. X. Gallagher is a butcher,
oder nicht?
”

“Yes, many things, but a butcher as well…”

“So. Think, Joyful.”

It was so obvious it was extraordinary he hadn’t seen it before. “Your brother,” Joyful said. “Henry’s a butcher.”

“My brother,
ja.
So, thank you for telling me this, Joyful. I do not like to hear it, but I would rather know than not know. And now I will tell you something that you will not want to hear, but it is better you should know. Your cousin Bastard is deceiving you. In this business of Devrey Shipping he makes the double cross.” Astor sketched a large X-shaped sign in the air.

“That’s not possible. I have the signed papers.”

“I know. Already you have told me this. You have now forty-nine percent of Devrey Shipping. That is indeed true. Blakeman has only forty percent. And eleven percent remains with Bastard Devrey.” Joyful nodded. “So if Bastard chooses to make
guanxi
with Gornt Blakeman, they have together fifty-one percent,
nicht wahr?
Together they outvote you.”

Jesus. Twice in five minutes he saw himself as a fool. “How do you know this? Are you sure?”

“Entirely sure. One of the marksmen I left on Hanover Street to watch. Bastard Devrey departed the countinghouse an hour after me. I think all the time he was there while Blakeman and I spoke. I cannot be sure: the room was dark, only one lamp.” Joyful nodded, remembering the clutter and the dimness of Gornt Blakeman’s private quarters. “Easy it would have been for Bastard to hide in the shadows and hear everything we said.”

He thought for a moment. “Why would Blakeman want Bastard there? What advantage would that give him?”

“That Bastard knows he has made a right decision. Probably at first he only hinted. Then he sees that Gornt Blakeman can summon Jacob Astor to his countinghouse and show him a
wunderschön
jewel and get him to do what Blakeman wants him to do. A man like Bastard Devrey, he is prepared to believe such a thing.”