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While he waited for the train ahead to get moving again, he checked his gauges for boiler pressure and water level and injected more water into the firebox and scooped coal into the fire. Then he followed the passenger train into Pittsburgh, tight on its tail to squeeze through the same switches. Crossing the Allegheny River, he saw a fire at the Point — the still-burning wreckage of the stern-wheeler Camilla. A bigger fire was shooting flames into the sky from the edge of the Golden Triangle. It looked as if the union hall fire had spread to surrounding buildings.
* * *
Wally and Mack were waiting at the specials’ platform. One look at Bell’s face and Wally said, “I see you already heard what happened.”
“Henry Clay wired the news himself. Couldn’t resist bragging. And I just saw the fires from the bridge. Did the boys burn to death?”
“Firemen I talked to think they had their heads bashed in first.”
“I should have sent you two. You’d have seen it coming.”
“Don’t start blaming yourself,” said Mack. “Terry and Mike were grown-ups.”
“Just so you know, Isaac, they found another body, apparently the guy who set the fire. Papers in his wallet said he was on the Strike Committee.”
“How come his wallet didn’t burn up?”
“Smoke poisoning killed him, apparently,” said Wally. “Or so the cops say.”
Mack said, “Whatever happened, the strikers will catch hell for it. The newspapers are putting on extra editions, howling for blood.”
“What about Jennings’s steamboat?”
“Similar situation,” Wally said. “Sheriff’s men shot a striker in a rowboat. It was nearby.”
Mack said, “With all this in mind, we sent Archie to keep an eye on Jim Higgins.”
Bell said, “But Jim Higgins is protected by armed strikers.”
“So they’ll protect Archie, too.”
Bell nodded. “Of course. You’re right. Thank you for looking after Archie.”
“Now what?” asked Wally.
“Any word from Research?”
“Dead end.”
Mack handed him a telegram from Grady Forrer.
THIBODEAU & MARZEN PRINCIPALS UNNAMED, UNKNOWN, UNKNOWABLE.
Bell had been counting heavily on the broker leading him to Henry Clay’s boss. He crumpled the telegram in his fist and flung it from him. Mack caught it on the fly, smoothed the paper, and handed it back. “Put it away for later. Sometimes dead ends turn around.”
“Now what?” Wally asked again.
“Where’s that black steamboat?”
“Terry and Mike saw it tied up behind a mill at McKeesport.”
“Which is probably what got them killed.”
A bell clanged. A gleaming locomotive pulled a New York-to-Chicago limited into the train shed. Bell looked around the train platforms, which were deserted at this late hour. He wondered where Mary was. But he asked, “Where’s Jim Higgins?”
“Forted up at Amalgamated,” said Mack. “He’s got trains blocked, trolleys blocked, and streets blocked. But the black boat is making them nervous.”
Wally said, “The cops are gnashing their teeth.”
