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Geneva said, "Former slave. The abolitionist and civil rights leader of the nineteenth century. Writer, lecturer."

The rookie was blushing. "Like I say, should've known."

Cooper leaned forward and read from the screen, " 'May third, 1866. Another evening at Gallows Heights--' "

"Ah," Rhyme interrupted, "our mysterious neighborhood." The word "gallows" again reminded him of The Hanged Man tarot card, the placid figure swinging by his leg from a scaffold. He glanced at the card, then turned his attention back to Cooper.

" ' . . . discussing our vital endeavor, the Fourteenth Amendment. Several members of the Colored community in New York and myself met with, inter alia, the Honorable Governor Fenton and members of the Joint Committee on Reconstruction, including Senators Harris, Grimes and Fessenden, and Congressmen Stevens and Washburne and the Democrat, Andrew T. Rogers, who proved far less partisan than we had feared.

" 'Governor Fenton began with a moving invocation, whereupon we began to present to the memb

ers of the committee our opinions on the various draft versions of the Amendment, which we did at length. (Mr. Charles Singleton was particularly articulate in his view that the amendment should incorporate a requirement of universal suffrage for all citizens, Negroes and Caucasians, women as well as men, which the members of the committee took under advisement.) Lengthy debates lasted well into the night.' "

Geneva leaned over his shoulder and read. " 'Particularly articulate,' " she whispered out loud. "And he wanted voting for women."

"Here's another entry," Cooper said.

" 'June twenty-fifth, 1867. I am troubled by the slow progress. The Fourteenth Amendment was presented to the states for ratification one year ago, and with expediency twenty-two blessed the measure with their approval. Only six more are required, but we are meeting with stubborn resistance.

" 'Willard Fish, Charles Singleton and Elijah Walker are traveling throughout those states as yet uncommitted and doing what they can to implore legislators therein to vote in favor of the amendment. But at every turn they are faced with ignorance in perceiving the wisdom of this law--and personal disdain and threats and anger. To have sacrificed so much, and yet not achieve our goal . . . . Is our prevailing in the War to be hollow, merely a Pyrrhic victory? I pray the cause of our people does not wither in this, our most important effort.' " Cooper looked up from the screen. "That's it."

Geneva said, "So Charles was working with Douglass and the others on the Fourteenth Amendment. They were friends, sounds like."

Or were they? Rhyme wondered. Was the newspaper article right? Had he worked his way into the circle to learn what he could about the Freedmen's Trust and rob it?

Although, for Lincoln Rhyme, truth was the only goal in any forensic investigation, he harbored a rare sentimental hope that Charles Singleton had not committed the crime.

He stared at the evidence board, seeing far more question marks than answers.

"Geneva, can you call your aunt? See if she's found any more letters or anything else about Charles?"

The girl called the woman with whom Aunt Lilly was living. There was no answer but she left a message for one of them to call back at Rhyme's. She then placed another call. Her eyes brightened. "Mom! Are you home?"

Thank God, Rhyme thought. Her parents were back at last.

But a frown crossed the girl's face a moment later. "No . . . What happened? . . . When?"

A delay of some sort, Rhyme deduced. Geneva gave her mother an update, reassured them she was safe and being looked out for by the police. She handed the phone to Bell, who spoke to her mother at some length about the situation. He then gave the phone back and Geneva said good-bye to her and to her father. She reluctantly hung up.

Bell said, "They're stuck in London. The flight was canceled, and they couldn't get anything else today. They're on the earliest plane out tomorrow--it goes to Boston and they'll catch the next flight here."

Geneva shrugged, but Rhyme could see the disappointment in her eyes. She said, "I better get back home. I have some projects for school."

Bell checked with his SWAT officers and Geneva's uncle. Everything seemed safe, he reported.

"You'll stay out of school tomorrow?"

A hesitation. She grimaced. Would there be another battle?

Then someone spoke. It was Pulaski, the rookie. "The fact is, Geneva, it's not just you anymore. If that guy today, the one in the combat jacket, had gotten close, and started shooting, there might've been other students hurt or killed. He might try again when you're in a crowd outside of school or on the street."

Rhyme could see in her face that his words afffected her. Maybe she was reflecting about Dr. Barry's death.

So he's dead because of me . . . .

"Sure," she said in a soft voice. "I'll stay home."

Bell nodded at her. "Thanks." And cast a grateful glance toward the rookie.

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