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“What’s the matter?”
“While they were dismantling the wreck of the Vulcan King, they found—”
“Clay’s body? It drifted—”
“I’m so sorry, Isaac. They found your girl.”
“What?”
“Scalded to death when the boiler burst. Looks like she was engaged in sabotage.”
“But that can’t be,” Bell gasped.
“Maybe not, son. But you showed me her letter. She might have done what she thought she had to do.”
“Where is— Where do they have her?”
“Remember Mary as she was, Isaac.”
“I have to see her.”
“No, Isaac. She doesn’t exist anymore. Not the girl you know. Let her be the girl you remember.”
Bell turned toward the door. Wish blocked him. Bell said, “It’s all right. I just have to tell her brother.”
“Jim knows.”
“How did he take it?”
“He refuses to believe it. He swears she wrote him that she was going to New York to confront the man staking Henry Clay.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t put it in the letter.”
Bell said, “I will find him if it takes every minute of my life.”
Wish Clarke laid a comforting hand on Isaac Bell’s shoulder. “Keep in mind, son, when you never give up, time’s on your side.”
EPILOGUE
A Smoke-filled Room
1912
The Congdon Building’s elevator runner reached for the intercom. “May I have your name, sir? I gotta call ahead.”
“Don’t,” said Chief Investigator Isaac Bell. He opened his coat to show his gold Van Dorn Agency badge and the butt of a Browning automatic polished by use.
* * *
It was hot and smoky in James Congdon’s office, and ashtrays were deep with cigar butts. Congdon, bright-eyed and flushed with victory, recognized Bell when the detective walked in without knocking. He welcomed him warmly.
“Chief Inspector Isaac Bell. I haven’t seen you since you relieved me of a carload of money playing poker on the Overland Limited back in ’07.”
“If I had known then what I know now, I’d have taken more than your money.”
“I recall it as a friendly game — if expensive.”
