him. He thought about everything that had happened, and something occurred to him. He got up and padded over to the clothes he had discarded. From a pocket in the trousers he took the little object he had picked up from the street next to the beer wagon.
It was round, about the size and shape of a silver dollar, but it was lighter because it wasn’t made from metal but rather carved from what appeared to be ivory. The thing reminded Conrad of a poker chip, but it was bigger than most poker chips he’d seen, and it had a picture carved in relief on it. It might be an identification token, he decided as he turned it to get a better look in the light from the gas lamp he had turned on. Something a man might flash to gain entrance to a place, or to identify himself to others who might not know him otherwise.
He realized almost instantly the scene depicted on the item was a familiar one. Two points of land extended toward each other, with a wide stretch of water between them. Conrad had been to that place on numerous occasions, and he had ridden a ferry from one side of that strait to the other. His heart began to beat faster as he took in the implication of what he held in his hand.
He was looking at a representation of the Golden Gate.
Chapter 9
Turnbuckle arrived at the hotel the next morning while Conrad was having breakfast, which a waiter had delivered and served in the sitting room of his suite. The lawyer looked tired, which was not surprising considering his age and the fact that he had gotten only a few hours sleep.
He had news to report. He took the cup of coffee Conrad offered him and said, “I’ve been in touch with one of those sources inside the police department you mentioned. One of those would-be assassins killed last night was named Floyd Hambrick. He was a known criminal suspected of a number of killings along the Barbary Coast. His grandfather was a Sydney Duck.”
Conrad raised his eyebrows to indicate he didn’t understand the reference.
“That was a gang of Australian criminals who dominated the San Francisco underworld back in the fifties, in the days after the Gold Rush,” Turnbuckle explained. “A lot of them were hanged by the Committee of Vigilance, but some survived, and even married and had children and grandchildren. In Hambrick’s case, evidently the proverbial apple didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree.”
“Have the police been able to tie this fella Hambrick in with anybody else?” Conrad asked.
Turnbuckle shook his head. “Not so far. I suspect it may not be a very productive lead. Hambrick, and no doubt the other two men, were simply hired assassins, the sort who would kill anyone if the price was right.”
Conrad sipped his coffee and nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time such men had come after him since he’d started his search for the twins. Someone was always masterminding those efforts, though, someone who had been paid off directly by Pamela while she was still alive. He was confident that would turn out to be the case.
That mastermind might finally be able to tell him where his children were.
He picked up the ivory token from the table next to the fine china holding the remains of his breakfast and tossed it to Turnbuckle. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
The lawyer studied the token, turning it over in his fingers and running a fingertip over its carved surface. “That looks like the Golden Gate.”
“I’m convinced it is.”
Turnbuckle handed the token back to him.
“But, no, I’ve never seen one like it before, at least not that I recall. Where did you get it?”
“It was lying in the street next to the wagon carrying all those beer barrels,” Conrad explained. “I can’t prove the man who drove the wagon and cut the barrels loose dropped it ... but he might have.”
“I’d say it’s even likely,” Turnbuckle replied. “Should I take it and show it to some of our investigators ?”
Conrad shook his head.
It was round, about the size and shape of a silver dollar, but it was lighter because it wasn’t made from metal but rather carved from what appeared to be ivory. The thing reminded Conrad of a poker chip, but it was bigger than most poker chips he’d seen, and it had a picture carved in relief on it. It might be an identification token, he decided as he turned it to get a better look in the light from the gas lamp he had turned on. Something a man might flash to gain entrance to a place, or to identify himself to others who might not know him otherwise.
He realized almost instantly the scene depicted on the item was a familiar one. Two points of land extended toward each other, with a wide stretch of water between them. Conrad had been to that place on numerous occasions, and he had ridden a ferry from one side of that strait to the other. His heart began to beat faster as he took in the implication of what he held in his hand.
He was looking at a representation of the Golden Gate.
Chapter 9
Turnbuckle arrived at the hotel the next morning while Conrad was having breakfast, which a waiter had delivered and served in the sitting room of his suite. The lawyer looked tired, which was not surprising considering his age and the fact that he had gotten only a few hours sleep.
He had news to report. He took the cup of coffee Conrad offered him and said, “I’ve been in touch with one of those sources inside the police department you mentioned. One of those would-be assassins killed last night was named Floyd Hambrick. He was a known criminal suspected of a number of killings along the Barbary Coast. His grandfather was a Sydney Duck.”
Conrad raised his eyebrows to indicate he didn’t understand the reference.
“That was a gang of Australian criminals who dominated the San Francisco underworld back in the fifties, in the days after the Gold Rush,” Turnbuckle explained. “A lot of them were hanged by the Committee of Vigilance, but some survived, and even married and had children and grandchildren. In Hambrick’s case, evidently the proverbial apple didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree.”
“Have the police been able to tie this fella Hambrick in with anybody else?” Conrad asked.
Turnbuckle shook his head. “Not so far. I suspect it may not be a very productive lead. Hambrick, and no doubt the other two men, were simply hired assassins, the sort who would kill anyone if the price was right.”
Conrad sipped his coffee and nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time such men had come after him since he’d started his search for the twins. Someone was always masterminding those efforts, though, someone who had been paid off directly by Pamela while she was still alive. He was confident that would turn out to be the case.
That mastermind might finally be able to tell him where his children were.
He picked up the ivory token from the table next to the fine china holding the remains of his breakfast and tossed it to Turnbuckle. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
The lawyer studied the token, turning it over in his fingers and running a fingertip over its carved surface. “That looks like the Golden Gate.”
“I’m convinced it is.”
Turnbuckle handed the token back to him.
“But, no, I’ve never seen one like it before, at least not that I recall. Where did you get it?”
“It was lying in the street next to the wagon carrying all those beer barrels,” Conrad explained. “I can’t prove the man who drove the wagon and cut the barrels loose dropped it ... but he might have.”
“I’d say it’s even likely,” Turnbuckle replied. “Should I take it and show it to some of our investigators ?”
Conrad shook his head.