Talons of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Page A

that.
    Thornbury and the Soiled Doves were trussed up securely. Sergeant McGuire noticed that Thornbury was in bare feet, and he looked around for the man’s shoes. He found some ladies’ slippers that appeared to have been made for a big foot and knelt down on the floor.
    â€œLet’s cover up those little tootsies, now, missy,” he said with a grin, slipping the shoes on Thornbury’s feet.
    â€œYou vile oaf!” Thornbury said.
    At that moment, one of Jamie’s men in town was giving a sealed envelope and a five dollar gold piece to a local man he’d found to be reasonably trustworthy. “At seven o’clock in the morning, you take this to the editor of the Inquirer. Don’t forget now. It’s important. He’ll have another five dollars for you.” The Marauder had no idea whether the editor would give the man any money or not, but it insured the delivery of the letter. His job done, the Rebel walked to his horse and rode out of the city.
    At the Thornbury mansion, Jamie unfurled the Confederate battle flag and ran it up the flagpole in front of the house. Jamie stood for a moment, looking up and grinning. So far, so good. Not a drop of blood had been shed—thus far. But all that could change, quite abruptly.
    At the home guard’s armory, the explosives had been planted, and the men waited, one occasionally checking his pocket watch.
    At the Philadelphia shipyards, Marauders had swum out to naval ships in the harbor and planted explosives, while others of the band of guerrillas had placed explosives on ships under construction in the yard.
    â€œWho are you, sir?” Thornbury demanded, from his trussed-up position on the floor. Blankets had been tossed over the naked ladies. Thornbury’s pretty party bonnet had been securely tied to his head, with a very tight square knot under his chin.
    Jamie smiled at the man. “Major Jamie Ian MacCallister. The Army of the Confederate States of America. We are the Marauders, General. And you Yankees have not heard the last from us. Now I’ll give you a word of advice, sir: There are good men on both sides of this struggle. The next time you want to question the courage of those who chose to wear the Gray— don’t . Good night, General Thornbury. Pleasant dreams now, you hear?”
    Chuckling over the screaming curses and wild threats of Thomas Thornbury and the high, shrill laughter of the ladies, Jamie and his men faded into the night and ran to their horses, Jamie stopping long enough to pat the general’s dog on the head and slip him a biscuit from his saddlebags. Jamie and his bunch scattered to the winds.
    When the home guard’s armory blew, it shook that entire end of the city, sending flames shooting high into the night skies and scaring the daylights out of the citizens of the city who lived near there—Thomas Thornbury had been stockpiling arms and powder for months, and there was enough ordnance in the warehouses to outfit an entire division for a long campaign. The shipyard, too, erupted into a series of rocking explosions. One ship was totally destroyed, two others partially sunk and several others badly damaged.
    The actual damage inflicted upon the Union cause by MacCallister’s Marauders was really not all that great once the dawning came and things began settling down. But it was a terrible blow to Yankee pride . . . which was exactly what Jamie had wanted.
    The editor of the newspaper did send a reporter out to the Thornbury mansion. Unfortunately for General Thornbury, the reporter took his wife out there with him. No story was ever written about the general’s strange attire—or if it was, it was never printed. But following the Marauders’ attack upon the city of Philadelphia, Thomas Thornbury did retire his commission and step down as commanding general of the home guard. In a public statement, he said it was time for a younger man to take over. Thomas