The Titanic Plan (22 page)

“
Good evening, officer,” Archie said.

“
Yeah, good evenin’. How can I help ya?” the cop answered.

“
I’ve been informed that you have a prisoner here that is being held for the murder of Mick Shaughnessy.”

The cop looked Archie up and down. “First off,” the cop asserted with authority, “I couldn’t let you see a prisoner without some written permission. So tell you what: why don’t you go home, get out of the party costume, sleep off what you need to sleep off and come back tomorrow during business hours and we’ll see what we can do.”

Though completely exhausted, Archie maintained his diplomatic cool. “Officer, my name is Archibald Butt. I am the Chief Military Aide to the President of the United States. And I am requesting to see the prisoner as part of those duties.”

The cop just stared at Archie. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“
I’m dead serious.”

“
Listen buddy, come back tomorrow. That way you can talk to the head of the precinct and keep everything kosher, y’understand?”

“
Everything is kosher, officer,” Archie said, getting a little annoyed. “And I can’t come tomorrow as I am to accompany the President on rounds in your city.”

“
Oh, right,” the cop said, humoring Archie. “But y’know, it’s four in the mornin’ and I can’t just let you go seein’ someone we may or may not have in our jail ‘cause you may or may not work for the President of the United States.”

“
Shall I call the President and have him order you to do this?”

“
Yeah, sure, call him. I’d love to speak to ol’ man Taft. Give him a piece of my mind. Though how would I know it’s the President I’m speakin’ to and not some crooked uncle of yours?”

Archie ran his hand over his tired face and gazed around the police station. He noticed pictures of the mayor, governor, and President on the wall. “Do you have today’s newspaper?” Archie asked.

“
Yeah, I suppose so.”

“
Might I look at one?”

“
It’s old news already. New ones should hit the street right about now.”

“
If you could just get a newspaper, I’d like to take a look at the front page then I promise to leave you.”

“
You promise to leave if I show you the front page?”

“
Promise.”

The cop opened a desk drawer and began rummaging through it. It didn’t take very long before he shouted, “Bingo! You want the Times or the Sun?”

“
Either will do,” Archie said.

“
The Times,” the cop said and laid it on top of his desk. Archie didn’t hesitate; he turned the paper so the cop could see it. The headline read: “THE PRESIDENT IN NEW YORK.” Below it was a picture of Taft waving to a crowd as he stepped from his railway car. Archie lifted his index finger and landed it on the image of the uniformed man leading the way in front of Taft. He said nothing; he didn’t have to. The cop glanced at the picture, glanced to Archie, back to the picture, then back to Archie.

“
Alright, now what prisoner did you want to see?”

The jail guard’s kerosene lantern sent a yellow spray of light into the cells where the prisoners slept. Archie followed the guard to a cell at the end of the corridor. “That’s him,” the guard said, swinging his lantern close to the bars. The invasion of light caused the man inside on the cot to lift his blanket over his head.

“
Hey, you’ve got a visitor, get up,” the guard barked.

The man stirred and poked his head out from under the thin blanket. Archie saw only an emerging mess of tangled hair.

“
Sir,” Archie spoke politely, even though addressing a killer. “I need a word with you.”

The man moaned.

“
I would like to talk with you,” said Archie, louder.

The man sat up on the edge of his cot. In the dim lantern light Archie could see the man’s scuffed, dirty face grimace in pain. He rose to his feet and limped toward the bars. The man had an ugly swollen eye and enormous lip that was caked with dried blood. The more light fell on the man’s face, the more Archie noticed that beneath the scruffy appearance, the man’s face was smooth and peach-fuzzed. He was hardly a man at all.

“
Captain! It’s you, ain’t it?!”

Archie knew that rough New York voice. He had heard it before. In Central Park. That time, a gun was pushed into his ribs. “Henry?” Archie said, stunned at who stood before him as Mick’s murderer.

“
Yeah, it’s me, Captain! Henry! Did they call you? Are you gonna get me outta here?”

“
Do you know why you’re in jail, Henry?”

“
They said I killed Mick. They’ve been grillin’ me for days, tryin’ to make me say I blew him up.”

“
Did you, Henry?”

“
Did I what?” Henry said, irritated that Archie would even ask such a question.

“
Have something to do with Mick’s death?”

“
Are you kiddin’? Why would I want to kill the only man who ever helped me in my life? ‘Course I didn’t kill him,” Henry sniffled. “I loved him, Captain…I loved him.” And he broke down, trying to gulp breaths between the sobs. Archie put his arms through the bars, awkwardly wrapping them around Henry’s slight body. “I know this man,” Archie said to the guard. “I would like to go into the cell and talk with him.”

“
I’m sorry sir, but that would be against regulations.”

“
By the authority of the President of the United States, I am ordering you to let me in that cell, officer. I will take responsibility for any breach of regulations.”

The guard hesitated and looked around to make sure no one was watching him break the rules at four in the morning by unlocking the cell door. Once in, Archie moved the tearful boy to the jail cot and sat beside him.

“
If what you’re telling me is the truth,” Archie said quietly, “no harm will come to you. Justice will prevail.”

“
Justice, right,” Henry sneered. “They got me and don’t seem to wanna let go, Captain.”

“
There must have been some reason to arrest you, Henry.”

“
I wasn’t even near the explosion. They don’t have any evidence. How could they? Mick wanted to protect me. He knew somethin’ was rotten. That whole day wasn’t right.”

“
What day?”

“
The last day, Captain. I’d change everything about it if I could.”

“
Why, Henry? What happened?”

“
What didn’t happen? First off, we shoulda never gone to see that sonuvabitch Astor.”

“
Astor?! Not John Astor?”

“
I dunno his first name. Mick just called him Astor.”

“
Did you see this Astor?”

“
Not that day.”

“
But you’ve seen him before?”

Henry nodded. “Yeah, I seen him before.”

“
What did he look like?”

“
Rich. Snooty. Stuck up.”

“
That’s not much of a description, Henry.”

“
I only seen him from far away when I drove Mick to have a talk with him.”

“
What did they talk about?”

“
I was waitin’ in the car. I don’t know.”

“
How long did he stay?”

Henry shrugged. “Not sure.”

“
Henry,” Archie said with a hint of annoyance. “If you want me to help you, you can’t be holding back. You have to tell me everything. Now, how long did Mick stay with Astor?”

“’
Bout a half-hour, maybe a little longer.” Henry started nervously pulling at his fingers.

“
And that was it?”

“
With Astor, that was it. Then Mick has me drive downtown to this big buildin’, y’know, the kind with columns and Mick tells me that if he ain’t out of the building in a half hour I should take off and lay low in Brooklyn and if anybody should ask if I know him, tell ‘em no, I never heard of Mick Shaughnessy. So I wait. Fifteen minutes goes by, then twenty, then twenty five and then half an hour and I ain’t sure if I should leave or not when Mick finally does come out. But he don’t come out alone – he’s with this little, scrawny guy and they’re havin’ this nasty argument and the little guy is screamin’ and pushin’ his finger into Mick’s chest and I could tell Mick wants to haul off and smack him good in the face but instead Mick jus’ turns away and strolls back to the car nice and easy. It was kinda great, really, ‘cause it got the little guy even angrier, but once Mick got in the car I could see he was agitated too ‘cause he was shakin’.”

“
Did you know the man he was arguing with?”

“
No. Never saw the guy in my life.”

“
Did Mick say anything?”

Henry didn’t answer. Tugged harder at his fingers. “He just told me to head home.”

“
And that was it?”

“
Yeah.”

“
About what time was this?”

“
I dunno. It was rainin’ and dark all day. Like I sez, Mick was agitated so I got him back to Hell’s Kitchen then he sez he had someone else to meet. When we get back he finds this long overcoat and he tucks his hair under a hat and puts two guns into his belt and we drive to the Cooper Union and he tells me to pull over and without sayin’ another word he gets outta the car and tugs the brim of his cap down over his face and jus’ yells, ‘Go, Henry, go.’”

“
Did you do what he said?”

“
Well…Not really. I was curious so I drive around the block then come back to the Cooper Union and see him meet this guy in the square.”

“
Do you know who the other man was?”

Henry shook his head. “I was too far away.”

“
How was he dressed?”

“
Nice. Grey suit. Black bowler. And he had a red carnation in his buttonhole.”

Archie realized that Henry was describing him. “Did they argue?”

“
No. They talked for a few minutes then that guy left and Mick took off runnin’ again.”

“
And what did you do?”

“
I just watched him disappear,” Henry sniffled. “That was the last time I ever seen him.” Henry choked back his tears.

“
It’s okay, Henry.” Archie said, and then put his arm over Henry’s shoulder until Henry grew calm.

“
It’s a total frame job on me. But you’re gonna get to the bottom of this, ain’t ya Captain?”

“
I’ll do what I can, Henry.”

Henry grabbed Archie’s arm and clutched it. “You’re gonna find out the truth. Not just for me, but for Mick too. God bless you, Captain. God bless you.”

Archie grew uncomfortable with Henry’s pleas. “I’ll do what I can,” Archie repeated, then patted the boy on the head. “Take care of yourself, son,” Archie said while twisting out of Henry’s tight grip.

Just before dawn Archie sat on the edge of his luxurious bed in his suite in the
Waldorf-Astoria
, feeling like hell warmed over. Naked, except for his white boxers, Archie caught a glimpse of himself in the wardrobe mirror. His handsome face was puffy, his always carefully groomed hair stood on end, his jowls drooped, and twin dark crevices hung under his bloodshot eyes like saggy half-moons. He glanced at the clock on the wall. In a little more than two hours he was to escort the President of the United States through another whirlwind day in New York. Never one to become too reflective or depressed, Archie grew both reflective and depressed. He felt calamity was circling over his head like a flock of vultures. His boss, President William Howard Taft, was despairing and ineffectual. The man he most admired in life, Theodore Roosevelt, was isolated and despondent in Oyster Bay. His great friend died in an explosion under very mysterious circumstances. If Henry wasn’t responsible for Mick’s death, then who was? And why? And why was it his duty to find out? It wasn’t, Archie reasoned. It wasn’t.