"Another anonymous call this morning, about the Israeli consulate. Just like last week. Only my snitches--even the golden boys--can't tell me one solid little thing. Pisses me off. Anyways,
what else you got cookin'?"
"The case is taking us to Harlem. You work it much?"
"I stroll through the place some. But I'm no encyclopedia. BK born and bred."
"BK?"
"Brooklyn, originally the Village of Breuckelen, brought to us courtesy of the Dutch West India Company in the 1640s. First official city in the state of New York, if you care. Home of Walt Whitman. But you ain't spending a quarter to talk trivia."
"Can you get away and do a little scrounging on the streets?"
"I'll fitcha in. But I can't promise I'll be much help."
"Well, Fred, you've got one advantage over me, as far as blending in Uptown."
"Right, right, right--my ass ain't sitting in any bright red wheelchair."
"Make that two advantages," replied Rhyme, whose complexion was as pale as the rookie Pulaski's blond hair.
*
Charles Singleton's other letters arrived from Geneva's.
They hadn't been stored very well over the years and were faded and fragile. Mel Cooper carefully mounted them between two thin sheets of acrylic, after chemically treating the creases to make sure the paper didn't crack.
Sellitto walked over to Cooper. "Whatta we got?"
The tech focused the optical scanner on the first letter, hit a button. The image appeared on several of the computer monitors throughout the room.
My most darling Violet:
I have but a moment to set down a few words to you in the heat and calm of this early Sunday morning. Our regiment, the 31st New York, has come such a long way since we were unseasoned recruits assembling on Hart's Island. Indeed, we now are engaged in the momentous task of pursuing Gen. Robert E. Lee himself, whose army has been in retreat after its defeat at Petersburg, Virginia, on April 2.
He has now taken a stand with his thirty-thousand troops, in the heart of the Confederacy, and it has fallen to our regiment, among others, to hold the line to the west, when he attempts to escape, which surely he must, for both General Grant and General Sherman are bearing down upon him with superior numbers.
The moment now is the quiet before the storm and we are assembled on a large farm. Bare-foot slaves stand about, watching us, wearing Negro cottons. Some of them say nothing, but regard us blankly. Others cheer mightily.
Not long ago our commander rode up to us, dismounted and told of the battle plan for the day. He then spoke--from memory,--words from Mr. Frederick Douglass, words that I recall to be these: "Once let the black man get upon his person the letters, 'U.S.,' an eagle on his buttons, a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pockets, and no one on earth can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship in the United States."
He then saluted us and said it was his privilege to have served with us in this God-sanctioned campaign to reunite our nation.
A hu-rah went up from the 31st the likes of which I have never heard.
And now, darling, I hear drums in the distance and the crack of the four-and eight-pounders, signaling the beginning of battle. Should these be the last words I am able to impart to you from this side of the River of Jordan, know that I love you and our son beyond words' telling. Hold fast to our farm, keep to our fabrication of being caretakers of the land, not owners, and deflect all offers to sell. I wish the land to pass intact to our son and his issue; professions and trades ebb and flow, the financial markets are fickle, but the earth is God's great constant--and our farm will ultimately bring to our family respectability in the eyes of those who do not respect us now. It will be our children's salvation, and that of the generations that will follow. Now, my dear, I must once again take up my rifle and do as God has bid, to secure our freedom and preserve our sacred country.
Yours in eternal love,
Charles
April 9, 1865
Appomattox, Virginia
Sachs looked up. "Phew. That's a cliff-hanger."
"Not really," Thom said.