the cutting-edge crime facility Allan Pinkerton envisioned! You can’t begin to imagine the strides we’ve made. In just a few weeks, we’ll take delivery of our first electric carriages.”
“Electric carriages?” Carver blurted.
“Quiet, boy!” Hawking snapped. “And how much did they cost?”
Tudd stepped behind his desk. “Cost isn’t the issue!”
He went on, but Carver noticed Hawking wasn’t paying attention. His sharp eyes were casting about the desk, studying the photographs and newspapers. When Carver followed his new mentor’s gaze, he realized they were all about the library murder. The photographs showed the crime scene. The rumors were true: the body had been mutilated. Never having seen a real dead body, let alone one so mangled, Carver felt queasy. It was exactly the sort of thing Miss Petty had prevented him from seeing or reading about.
A loud hissing, like a teakettle, erupted from Tudd’s clenched teeth. He motioned Carver away from his desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Young, but the information the agency collects is not for public consumption.”
“Still chasing ghosts?” Hawking asked. He snorted.
The dismissive gesture clearly angered Tudd. “A pity we don’t all share your fierce instincts!” he said.
Hawking chuckled. “If you had half my instincts, you wouldn’t waste your time.”
13
“IT’S A theory,” Tudd said. “The police are stymied. If we solved the murder, it would give us just the right opportunity to bring the New Pinkertons out in the open.”
“If that’s your goal, why not just do it? Why do you need some imaginary victory to hide behind?” Hawking said.
“Aside from the fact it’s against Allan’s explicit wishes,” Tudd said with a shrug, “we have to be in the right position. And I have to admit the thought of catching the world’s most famous murderer is enticing.”
“It’s your ego, then?”
“No! I mean to say…”
As the two men argued, Carver leaned forward for another look at the desk. A police report describing Mrs. Buckley’s attacker as an “impossibly powerfulman” caught his attention, but Tudd snatched it away. He motioned a chagrined Carver into one of two plush chairs facing the desk.
“I could use your help, Albert,” Tudd said. “If only so the men would—”
“My involvement is not open for discussion.”
Tudd sighed. “Damn shame a man of your ability spends all his time among the mad.”
Among the mad?
What did that mean?
“So do you, in a way.”
“Roosevelt?” Tudd said. “I’ve not met a man with his integrity since Allan himself. It’s positively difficult for me to lie to him each morning when I go to work.”
Carver didn’t know what to ask first. “You work for Roosevelt? Is that how you saw my letter?”
“Giving away your own secrets now, eh, Tudd?” Hawking chortled. “
Intercepted
might be a better word, boy. Go on, tell him. You’re Roosevelt’s
clerk.
”
Tudd narrowed his eyes. “I could name some undercover positions
you’ve
held I wouldn’t brag about.” He turned to Carver. “Son, nearly all our agents hold posts among the police, politicians and newspaper offices. I am one of the commissioner’s assistants.”
“Clerk,” Hawking interjected.
“Ahem. Your correspondence… impressed me. Mr. Hawking needed an assistant. I also hoped bringing you here might lure him from retirement. I didn’t realize he planned on giving you
my
job during your first visit.”
Hawking said, “There is only
one
job I’m interested in currently, for the boy.”
“Really?” Carver asked. “What would that be, sir?”
“Finding your father.”
Carver’s heart nearly popped into his throat.
“It’s an excellent way to begin your education, a mystery you’ll be motivated to solve. If you think you can handle it. You’ll have to do most of the legwork, but you’ll have access to these facilities—”
Tudd interrupted. “Only to an extent. I want to help, of course,
“Electric carriages?” Carver blurted.
“Quiet, boy!” Hawking snapped. “And how much did they cost?”
Tudd stepped behind his desk. “Cost isn’t the issue!”
He went on, but Carver noticed Hawking wasn’t paying attention. His sharp eyes were casting about the desk, studying the photographs and newspapers. When Carver followed his new mentor’s gaze, he realized they were all about the library murder. The photographs showed the crime scene. The rumors were true: the body had been mutilated. Never having seen a real dead body, let alone one so mangled, Carver felt queasy. It was exactly the sort of thing Miss Petty had prevented him from seeing or reading about.
A loud hissing, like a teakettle, erupted from Tudd’s clenched teeth. He motioned Carver away from his desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Young, but the information the agency collects is not for public consumption.”
“Still chasing ghosts?” Hawking asked. He snorted.
The dismissive gesture clearly angered Tudd. “A pity we don’t all share your fierce instincts!” he said.
Hawking chuckled. “If you had half my instincts, you wouldn’t waste your time.”
13
“IT’S A theory,” Tudd said. “The police are stymied. If we solved the murder, it would give us just the right opportunity to bring the New Pinkertons out in the open.”
“If that’s your goal, why not just do it? Why do you need some imaginary victory to hide behind?” Hawking said.
“Aside from the fact it’s against Allan’s explicit wishes,” Tudd said with a shrug, “we have to be in the right position. And I have to admit the thought of catching the world’s most famous murderer is enticing.”
“It’s your ego, then?”
“No! I mean to say…”
As the two men argued, Carver leaned forward for another look at the desk. A police report describing Mrs. Buckley’s attacker as an “impossibly powerfulman” caught his attention, but Tudd snatched it away. He motioned a chagrined Carver into one of two plush chairs facing the desk.
“I could use your help, Albert,” Tudd said. “If only so the men would—”
“My involvement is not open for discussion.”
Tudd sighed. “Damn shame a man of your ability spends all his time among the mad.”
Among the mad?
What did that mean?
“So do you, in a way.”
“Roosevelt?” Tudd said. “I’ve not met a man with his integrity since Allan himself. It’s positively difficult for me to lie to him each morning when I go to work.”
Carver didn’t know what to ask first. “You work for Roosevelt? Is that how you saw my letter?”
“Giving away your own secrets now, eh, Tudd?” Hawking chortled. “
Intercepted
might be a better word, boy. Go on, tell him. You’re Roosevelt’s
clerk.
”
Tudd narrowed his eyes. “I could name some undercover positions
you’ve
held I wouldn’t brag about.” He turned to Carver. “Son, nearly all our agents hold posts among the police, politicians and newspaper offices. I am one of the commissioner’s assistants.”
“Clerk,” Hawking interjected.
“Ahem. Your correspondence… impressed me. Mr. Hawking needed an assistant. I also hoped bringing you here might lure him from retirement. I didn’t realize he planned on giving you
my
job during your first visit.”
Hawking said, “There is only
one
job I’m interested in currently, for the boy.”
“Really?” Carver asked. “What would that be, sir?”
“Finding your father.”
Carver’s heart nearly popped into his throat.
“It’s an excellent way to begin your education, a mystery you’ll be motivated to solve. If you think you can handle it. You’ll have to do most of the legwork, but you’ll have access to these facilities—”
Tudd interrupted. “Only to an extent. I want to help, of course,
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