"What, me? The headless horseman?" Hewitt said, with a snort. "Not I. It's true. I have a black horse in my stable, but it is an old mare. A walking country horse. Hardly the sort of mount for clattering about the streets of Boston in the middle of the night!"

"Stoddard has a black horse!" someone cried. "And it's a stallion, too!"

"No, no, my stallion is a bay!" Stoddard protested.

"Perhaps it was a bay they saw that night!"

"No. it was black, they said, like jet."

"Gentlemen. gentlemen!‘" said Drakov. raising his arms to get their attention. He waited till they'd settled down. "What does it profit us to speculate upon who this man might he?"

"Do you happen to own a black stallion. Mr. Dark?" said someone in the crowd.

"As it happens. I do not own any horses whatsoever," Drakov said. "And these gentlemen can tell you. I had not yet arrived in Boston when the headless horseman first made his appearance. so I think that we can all safely assume I am not he."

"Yes, that's quite true," said Hewitt. "Nicholas has only just arrived in the colonies. He does not even have a place to call his own yet."

"Quite so, gentlemen," said Drakov. "But my point is simply this. Our mysterious horseman may be among us even now, for all we know, or he might be dining at this very moment in some other part of town, altogether unaware of our interest in him. In either event, what difference does it make? He serves all our interests best by being unknown. Remember that if we cannot discern his true identity, then neither can the Sons of Liberty.

"Your point is well taken. Dark." said Brown. "But then how may we let him know that there are those among us ready and willing to lend him our support?"

"Well, our horseman is clearly a Tory, that much we know," said Drakov. "And we all know who our fellow Tories are, do we not? I say we spread the word among all of our friends. That way, whoever he may be, the word must surely reach him. Let it be known that there are those among us who stand ready to oppose the lawlessness of Samuel Adams and his mob. And if the horseman wants our help, then surely a man of his resources must find a way to tell us."

"You think he will respond?" said Hewitt.

"We can only wait and sec." said Drakov. "But if our headless horseman is the man of action he appears to be. then I think we may be hearing from him soon."

Benjamin Hallowell was not the sort of man who was easily intimidated and he had very little sympathy for the grievances of Boston's radicals, especially after the Sons of Liberty attacked his home. He did not care for Boston. He much preferred the civility of London, but the new regulations had required him to personally assume his post as a collector of customs duties in the colonies.

In the past, it had been the practice for men appointed to his office to remain in England and appoint people in the colonies to act in their place, as their deputies, but the ministry had put a stop to that. The colonists were all too often sympathetic to the smugglers and the colonial deputies had often looked the other way, accepting bribes from merchants and their captains to ignore the smuggled goods. Hallowell was an ambitious man and he did not intend to settle down in Massachusetts. He meant to impress his superiors in England with the efficient way that he performed his duties and to use his post in Boston as a step up the ladder to further his career in government service.

For a long time, he had been waiting for the opportunity to make an example of one man in particular, a man who was notorious for his flagrant disregard of the Acts of Trade and Navigation, and now, thanks to the recent arrival in port of the Romney and the Lawrence, it seemed the moment had arrived to teach the haughty John Hancock a lesson that was a long time overdue. Hallowell listened grim-faced as his chief collector, Joseph Harrison, made his report.

"From the moment that I saw the Liberty pull into the wharf," said Harrison,

"I suspected that her holds were loaded full of smuggled goods. She rode low in the water, far too low to account for what was on her manifest." Harrison snorted.

"When I boarded her for my inspection, the captain claimed that the ship's entire cargo consisted of twenty-live pipes of Madeira. And yet any fool could see the ship was loaded to capacity!"

"So you insisted on making a personal inspection, of course,” said Hallowell.

"Yes, and no sooner had I done so than they offered me a bribe!” said Harrison. He drew himself up stiffly. "I refused, of course.”

"Of course," said Hallowell. "What happened then?"

"They bullied me," said Harrison, his tone almost that of a small boy who had been picked on by his elders. "The ship's crew gathered around and threatened me, tried to make me take the bribe, but when I still refused, they seized me-actually seized me!---and dragged me down below decks, where they locked me up in one of the cabins! I pounded on the door, hut they only laughed at me and said that I should cool my heels for a while and think things over. For three hours or more they left me there, heedless of my protests, until the sun went down! And then I heard the ship being unloaded. And they unloaded than more than twenty-five pipes of wine, I can tell you that, sir! Afterward, when they were done with the unloading, they let me out and made out as if it had all been some mistake! They even had the barefaced effrontery to suggest that I had locked myself inside the cabin! The brass! The very brass of them! And now, even as we speak, they're loading up the ship again and making ready to leave port, doubtless with more contraband bound for the Indies, and of what use is it to demand to see the contents of their hold? They will do the same thing once again, or worse!"

"No, they most certainly will not." said Hallowell, grimly. "Hancock has gone too far this time. I will not have my customs collectors bullied about, no, sir! John Hancock might well be the richest man in Boston, but that does not put him above the law!"

"But what can we do?" asked Harrison.

"We can hit him where it hurts him most, Joseph. In his pocketbook. I intend to seize his ship."

"His crew will never stand for that, sir! They are a rough lot, indeed. I tell you, it would be as much as worth my life to serve seizure papers on them, sir. I have a family to think of . . ."

"Calm yourself, Joseph." Hallowell said. "I would not send you alone to risk such treatment once again. I will request Capt. Corner of the His Majesty's Ship Romney to provide us with an armed escort. After that incident with the press gang, I'll warrant those men are itching to get back some of their own. We will wait until the ship is fully loaded and then, my friend, we shall seize her, complete with all her cargo, and have her towed under the Romney's guns, least they should try to board the ship at night and sail it away. I will teach Hancock's ruffians to harass one of my men, by God! I'll not suffer their insolence one moment longer! Here, have this message delivered to the Romney's captain. And here are your seizure papers. As of this moment, the Liberty and all her cargo are the property of His Majesty, the King!"

The Liberty lay fully loaded at the dock and awaiting the next tide when the longboats from the Romney pulled up to the wharf. The same officer who had led the press gang was in command and this time, he moved quickly, before the crowd had time to gather. In the company of Ben Hallowell, Thomas Irving, the inspector of imports, Joseph Harrison and his eldest son, Richard, who was a customs clerk, the officer marched his men up on the liberty's deck and served the ship's captain with the seizure papers.

"Sir, you are charged with violation of the Acts of Trade and Navigation and henceforth, this ship and all her cargo are forfeit to His Majesty, the King,”

said Hallowell.

"The hell it is." the captain said.

At a signal from the officer, one of the Romney's men knocked him to the deck with the butt end of his musket. Several of the crew started forward angrily. but stopped when they found themselves staring down the barrels of muskets loaded with grape shot. “All right, you scurvy, smuggling lot.” the officer said firmly.

"Face right about and down the gangplank with you, every man jack of you! Move sharply, now! First man who hesitates, I'll have his guts for garters! Move!"

Sullenly, the Liberty's crew marched down the gangplank. The word had already been spread along the docks and an angry crowd was quickly forming The men from the Romney wasted no time in running lines out to the longboats for the Liberty to be towed out into the harbor, close beneath the Romney's guns.

"Well done, sir." said Hallowell to the ship's officer. "My compliments to Capt. Corner."

"I will convey them, sir," the officer said. "And now, with your permission, we'd best get on about our business. That crowd yonder on the dock has an ugly look about it. I would not linger overlong if I were you."

"No need to worry." Hallowell said smugly. "They may stand there and jeer till dawn for all the good it does them, damn their eyes for their impudence!

Come, gentlemen. we've done our duty."

No sooner had they stepped off the gangplank than the first stone came sailing out from the crowd. The Romney's men made haste to pull the gangplank in and the rowers hurriedly bent to their task. Slowly, ponderously, the sloop began to move as the men in the longboats strained at their oars to tow the ship out into the harbor. The men still aboard the Liberty took shelter as they were pelted with a rain of rocks and bricks from the angry crowd. Ben Hallowell watched smugly as the Liberty was slowly towed away from the dock.

"Take that. John bloody Hancock!" he said.

“Ben," said Irving, pulling at his sleeve. They turned and found their way blocked by the crowd. The crew of the Liberty were among them. Some of the men were holding clubs. Hallowell looked around nervously, but time was nowhere for them to go.

"Let us pass." said Hallowell.

Nobody moved.

Hallowell swallowed nervously.

“Let us pass. I said!"

“Get the bloody bastard!” someone shouted.

The crowd surged forward. Irving tried to draw his sword, but it was snatched from him and broken. He went down beneath a flurry of swinging fists. A club snuck Hallowell's head and he crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from his forehead.

“Run. Dick!" Harrison shouted to his son.

In an instant, the mob was upon them and Harrison cried out as a club glanced off his shoulder, he lashed out wildly and felt his fist connect with someone's face. He felt hands clutching at his coat and another club struck him in the hack. Someone punched him in the face and blood spurted from his nose. He heard his son cry out behind him. They had knocked him down and several men were kicking him, then they grabbed him by his hair and dragged him screaming through the street. As more blows rained down upon him, something in Harrison broke and with a keening sound, like some wild animal, he thrashed and shoved his way through the press of men as hands and clubs struck out at him. He stumbled, but regained his balance, and then, miraculously, he was in the clear and running down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

He heard them running in pursuit and blind panic surged through him as he bolted down a narrow alleyway, tripped, fell, scrambled to his feet again and kept on running, not even knowing where he was running to, just fleeing in abject terror. He didn't stop until he was blocks away, completely out of breath. He collapsed against a pile of wooden crates stacked in an alley and cowered there, trembling, his breath rasping in his throat, tears streaming from his eyes and mingling with the blood. He drew his legs up to his chest, put his head down in his arms, and sat there, weeping in the dark.

Back at the docks, the mob hauled Ben Hallowell's pleasure skiff out of the water, tied ropes to it, and dragged it through the streets to the Common, where it was set on fire. One group broke off to go running across the open grass to Hallowell's house, where they pelted the windows with rocks and bricks. Another group stoned Harrison's windows white his wife cowered inside, hysterical with fear. Eventually, the mob broke up, to proceed in small groups to the taverns on the waterfront, where they toasted one another's courage and patriotic ardor before stumbling to their homes.

Boston had no street Lights yet, so at night, the streets were as dark as country roads. Zeke Chilton, Johnny Long, Dick Tillotsen, and Edward Crenshaw were staggering and weaving down Fish Street, their arms around one another's shoulders and their voices raised in drunken song when they were hailed by the watchman.

“Who goes there?" "Freedom lovin' Sonsh'a Librty, God damn yer eyes!" roared Chilton. He was the one whose club had felled Ben Hallowell, as he had proudly boasted no fewer than two dozen times that night to anyone who'd listen.

"You're drunk." the watchman said.

Chilton heaved a bottle at him and it shattered on the street. Mumbling curses to himself, the watchman beat a hasty retreat.

"That'll show'im," Chilton slurred, "God damn 'is eyes!"

"Liberty an' prop'ity!" shouted Johnny Long.

"God damn their eyes!" said Chilton, staggering against him.

From behind them came the sound of hoofbeats rapidly approaching.

"Liberty an' prop'ity!" yelled Tillotsen, turning around to face the rider, but he froze when he saw the horseman bearing down on them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. "S'truth!" he said. “It's 'im!"

The horseman's wild laughter echoed through the night.

A whip cracked. Tillotsen screamed with pain and dropped down to his knees, clutching at his face. Eyes rolling, the black horse reared up before them and the whip cracked once again. It snaked around Chilton's throat and pulled him to the ground. Crenshaw turned to run, but suddenly a dark figure was before him. A club flashed and Crenshaw fell, unconscious. Drakov swung the club again and Johnny Long crumpled to the street. A moment later, Chilton joined him, and then Tillotsen was struck down

The next morning. all four men were discovered hanging from the stout boughs of the Liberty Tree in Boston Common. Pinned to the chest of each corpse was a placard reading. "Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!"

4

For a change, no one interfered with the sheriff when he went to cut the latest display down off the Liberty Tree. Boston's mood was suddenly subdued. There had been riots, there had been looting and destruction, men had been beaten bloody and senseless, but this was the first time men had died.

Lucas, Finn, and Andre stood apart with Hunter on the fringes of the silent crowd that had gathered to watch Greenleaf and his men remove the corpses Andre wore male clothing and to look at her, no one could tell she was a woman. She looked like a young boy of eighteen.

"It's started." Hunter said. "I had a feeling it would come to this."

"Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty," said Lucas. He glanced at Hunter. "That mean anything to you?"

Hunter shook his head. "I haven't been associating much with Tories. I'm one of the Sons of Liberty, you know." He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small silver medal on a chain. It was stamped with an image of the Liberty Tree.

"They all wear these," he said. "They were contributed by the silversmith, Paul Revere."

Ben Edes spotted Hunter and approached them. "A grim sight for a spring morning; he said tensely.

"Aye, that it is," said Hunter. "You know anything about this?"

Ben Edes shook his head. "A few of the people in the crowd are saying that the horseman did it."

"The horseman?" said Delaney

Edes glanced at them. "It seems that Boston has a ghost, sir. One who rides a black horse and has no head. Forgive me. but I haven't had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."

"Oh, my apologies," Hunter said. "These are old friends of mine. Ben. Allow me to present Mr. Finn Delaney, Mr. Lucas Priest, and young squire Andrew Cross. Mr. Delaney's ward. This is my good friend. Benjamin Edes, editor and publisher of the Boston Gazette."

They shook hands. "Would that we could have met under more fortunate circumstances." Edes said.

"You're new to Boston?" "We only arrived yesterday," said Lucas, "from New York."

"I hear that there are many Tories in New York." said Edes, watching them closely for their reactions.

"Yes, but we have had our share of demonstrations, too." said Finn. "Of course. General Gage and his troops are quartered there, and they have largely kept events under control."

"Yes, so I have heard." said Edes. "I understand that Governor Bernard has requested aid from General Gage. He thinks that Boston should have troops. Would they have prevented this? I wonder. They say the horseman rode the streets last night and that this is his grisly handiwork

"No one saw anything?" asked Hunter. Edes shook his head. "A watchman saw Chilton and the others in the street last night." he said. "He said they were all drunk as lords. You heard about the Liberty affair? Hallowell seized Hancock's ship for smuggling. The Romney's crew towed it out into the harbor, where it is protected by the Romney's guns A crowd gathered, but they were too late to prevent the ship being seized, so they turned their anger against Hallowell and his agents. Hallowell was beaten senseless. Harrison also, though he managed to escape. His son, Dick, was badly beaten and dragged through the street by his hair. Thomas Irving was set upon, as well. An ugly spectacle. Yonder you see what's left of Hallowell's boat. The mob dragged it from the water and burned it on the Common. They stoned Harrison's and Hallowell's homes, as well. Chilton was one of the mob's leaders, or at least so he claimed. They say he was boasting that it was he who broke Ben Hallowell's head for him and led the riot. He claimed to be a Son of Liberty, but Sam swears he had nothing to do with what occurred last night."

He glanced uncertainly at Lucas, Finn, and Andre, as if suddenly afraid that he had said too much.

"It's all right." Hunter said. "They're with us in the cause."

Edes nodded. "Forgive me, but these are troublesome times." he said. "A man cannot be too careful. The council is meeting even as we speak. Hancock has lodged a formal protest against the seizure of his vessel and a delegation is to be sent to Governor Bernard, requesting that the Romney be removed from port. Meanwhile, the customs agents have left their homes and taken refuge in Castle William. Nor can I blame them. No one ever wanted it to come to this."

"What has Sam said?" Hunter asked.

"He has called a special meeting at the Long Room." Edes said "I was just now on my way there."

"Would it be possible for my friends to come, as well'?" asked Hunter. "Or would that be an imposition?"

If they are patriots, sir, and you vouch for their discretion, then they are indeed welcome. And I am sure our friends would want to know how things are going in New York. Come. I will take you there."

They went down Treamount Street, then turned into Dock Square. From there, they took Ann Street for a block or two until it became Fish street. The same streets in Boston often had different names from block to block; the better to enable citizens to orient themselves since there was, as yet, no organized system of house numbering. Fish Street became Ship Street after a few blocks, running close by Clark's Shipyard. They passed The Castle and The Mitre taverns and turned into the Salutation, a tavern on the corner of Salutation Alley and Ship Street whose devotees were fervent Whigs. It was not a fashionable tavern, catering mostly to the North End shipwrights, caulkers, and mast-makers, but its sign depicted two gentlemen bowing to each other, which resulted in the tavern being nicknamed "The Two Palaverers." It was not as rowdy or notorious a tavern as 'Ole Bunch of Grapes, but it was here where the North Caucus met in its private room.

Sam Adams belonged to all three of Boston's caucuses, the North, the Middle, and the South. It was Deacon Adams who had first organized these clubs, the word having grown from "caulker's club.” since the majority of the original members were all in the shipbuilding trade. Here, in the smoke-filled private chamber known as the Long Room, much of the business of the Boston Assembly was actually conducted around a bowl of punch, with a roaring fire in the hearth. There were some sixty members in the North Caucus, but today, the group that gathered here were the members of the original Loyal Nine and the leaders of the Sons of Liberty.

There was Sam Adams' young cousin John from Braintree, plump, boyishlooking, and quick to speak. Hunter pointed out Dr. Joseph Warren and Dr. Benjamin Church; William Molineaux, the hardware merchant; Bill Campbell, the owner of the tavern; John Pulling, whose fame was to be eclipsed by Paul Revere's., though it was he who would hang the lanterns in the Christ's Church steeple to give Revere the signal that the British troops were coming; the gargantuan silversmith. Benjamin Burt, who weighed almost four hundred pounds and required the room of two men at the table; James “Jemmy" Otis. the flamboyant orator whose reason was slowly slipping away, rendering him unpredictable and temperamental, given to frequent emotional outbursts that often made no sense at all; young Josiah Quincy; the Cooper brothers, Samuel, the pastor of the Brattle Street Church, and William, the town clerk; Thomas Dawes: John Winslow and Thomas Melville, still only in his teens and fresh from Harvard, whose grandson Herman would one day write the immortal epic Moby Dick. The silversmith, Paul Revere, was also in attendance, stocky, square-faced, with his brown hair unpowdered, and his simple homespun looking shabby next to the slender Hancock's tailored finery. And. of course, there was Sam Adams, portly and rumpled, looking like someone's absentminded uncle, yet the real power behind the coming revolution. He called the meeting to order.

“Gentlemen, your indulgence, please," he said, rapping on the table with his knuckles. The room grew silent. Adams looked around. "I see that most of us are here. However, I note a few unfamiliar faces."

"These are Reese Hunter's friends, recently arrived from New York," said Edes. "Mr. Lucas Priest. Mr. Finn Delaney, and young Andrew Cross. They've come to observe events in Boston for themselves and report back to our friends in the New York colony. Reese vouches for them."

"Very well.” said Adams, nodding. In that case welcome, gentlemen. You have arrived upon a dark day, indeed. Four of our number have been foully slain and we are met to discuss how to proceed.”

He looked around to make sure he had everyone's attention.

"There have been times." he said. “when we have not acted nobly. Yet, hard times demand hard actions. And the mobs cannot always be controlled. Things have been done in the name of our cause that I regret, despite the fact that our cause has been advanced by them. Men have been set upon and beaten, and yet I cannot truly say that they did not well deserve a beating. There are those whose homes have been invaded and torn down, yet they were men who, by their actions, sought to invade our rights and to tear down our liberties. Men have been pressured to resign their offices, and yet it can be said that tyrants have no business holding office."

"Hear, hear," said someone. We must, of necessity,” said Adams. “use whatever means are open to us in order to achieve our ends, and sometimes those means are hard, indeed . . . but, gentlemen, we have never yet committed murder."

"Not yet," said Quincy, grimly, and several of the men grumbled their assent.

"Not ever." Adams said. "Not ever." He looked around at all of them. His hands began to tremble, so he clasped them. “We are patriots, my friends, not murderers. And if the time should ever come when blood is to be spilled, then let it be in honorable warfare, and not foul murder in the night!"

At the mention at the word “warfare," the men began to mumble among themselves. “Yes, gentlemen, war." said Adams. “It is the first time we have used that word among us, though I have known for some time now that war must inevitably come. It is not yet time for us to speak of war in public, but those of us present in this room must give due consideration to that eventuality. For I am certain that it must come to that. We in the colonies are not, as they call us in Parliament 'rebellious children.' We are grown into adulthood and the time has come for us to make our own way in the world, independent of Great Britain."

“Amen to that!" said Edes and several voices joined him in chorus.

"But must it come to war'?" said Otis. "Gentlemen." he said. rising to his feet, "there is no more noble society on earth than that of Britain! Why, we are all of us Englishmen! True. I will admit, we have had our disagreements with our mother country, but surely these disagreements can be settled without resort to—"

"Oh, do sit down. Jemmy," Hancock said softly, in a weary tone.

"I have the right to speak!"

"Sit down. Jemmy." said Bill Campbell. "Sam has the floor.

Amid a chorus of "Sit down. Jemmy! Sit down!" Otis reluctantly resumed his scat and fixed a morose gaze upon the punch bowl. He said nothing more. but his lips moved silently.

"There was a time. Jemmy," said Adams. Sadly, "when your fire was the brightest flame among us. But now the time is past for speeches. And the time is long past for talk of reconciliation. English we may be, by law, but when we are denied our rights as Englishmen under England's law, then that law has ceased to serve us. Englishmen we may be. but Americans we must become!"

"Well said, well said!"

"Spoken like a patriot!"

"Enough." said Adams. As I have said, the time is past for speeches. We must free ourselves from England. but England will never willingly let us go. It is our duty, gentlemen, to prepare the populace for what must come. We must gain their sympathy and unite them to our cause. But we cannot hope to do so if we should stoop to murder. There must be no killing.'

"There has already been killing," said John Winslow.

"And we must not add to it," said Adams. "Tell that to Macintosh and Swift." said Edes "They are not men to turn the other check. Sam.”

"No one asks them to turn the other cheek. Ben," Adams said. "The murderers must be found and brought to justice. Aye, let them hang, but let them be tried for murder in a court of law and be brought to their punishment by jury! We must have no lynching by the mob! There are those in England, gentlemen, who are sympathetic to our cause. They will not long remain so if we start to murder our own citizens. Boston sets an example for all the other colonies. Their eyes are all upon us. Already, there are many who decry our methods, who condemn mob violence, as we must openly condemn it. You saw how the people at the town responded when the mob destroyed Hutchinson's house. What will they say of us if we start to murder Tories? Governor Bernard has petitioned General Gage for troops. Would you play into his hands by giving Gage a reason to dispatch them?"

“The troops may well be sent in any case," said Church, sourly.

"Then let them come as a further affront against our liberties." said Adams, not as protection for the citizenry against roving killers in the night. How can we cry out, in indignation, that the Tories murder freedom-loving men if we respond in kind? I say again, the killers must be found and brought to justice. Our hands must remain clean in this affair.

“But how are we to find the murderers?" asked Cooper.

"Aye, where does a man look to find a ghost?" asked someone else.

"I have never heard of a ghost who was political," said Adams, wryly. "Rest assured, gentlemen, this mysterious so-called 'headless horsemen' we've all heard of is made of flesh and blood. Tory flesh and blood. He is someone with the wit to hide his face so that he remains unknown and, doubtless, he has Tory confederates to help him. We must find out who they are so that they may be punished for their crime."

“But how are we to find out who they are, Sam?" Hancock asked. "Of whom can we make our inquiries? I hardly think that the Tories shall share anything they know with us. The sympathies of every man who is present in this room are well known to all of them,"

"Not every man," said Hunter. "They do not know my friends here."

"Nor, for that matter, do we know them.” Paul Revere said. "No offense intended"

“None taken.” said Lucas. "We know that we are strangers here and only present because our friend. Reese Hunter, vouched for us. But we are patriots, the same as you, and there are many in New York who think as we do. We've come to confer with Boston's patriot leaders, to share goodwill and seek advice, but we have also tome to offer help if needed. Now as Mr. Hancock said, if most of you are known to the Tories here in Boston, then you can hardly expect them to help you find whoever killed your friends. However, we three an: not known here. We arrived only yesterday, and except for Reese, you are the first citizens of Boston we have spoken to. We could just as easily be Tories recently arrived in Boston. We could go where the Tories gather and strike up friendships with them, then pass on anything we learn to you.”

Adams looked thoughtful. "Your idea has merit," he said. "But you realize that you would he taking a great risk if they discovered that you were deceiving them?"

"We have already taken a great risk in coming here and meeting with known radicals," said Delaney. "That's the sort of thing that could tarnish a gentleman's reputation."

His comment provoked laughter. “You may joke, sir," Adams said. “but spying is a very serious business."

"So is murder," said Andre.

“Yes, so it is," Adams replied gravely. "How old are you, lad?"

"Eighteen, sir," Andre said.

"Eighteen." said Adams, with a sigh. “Eighteen is very young."

"I see others here scarcely older than myself." said Andre. "And seventeen is old enough to join the militia."

"True." said Adams. “but drilling with a rifle does not make one a man."

"Nor does plotting in back rooms or smashing windows in the middle of the night," said Andre

Hancock chuckled. “He has you there. Sam."

"A man is one who is willing to stand up for his beliefs, sir." Andre said.

"I came here willing to stand up for mine."

Adams smiled. "Well said, young man. Very well then, I accept the offer of your help. We need all the help that we can get and we could do with a spy or two among the Tories of this town. I would dearly like to find out who this 'headless horseman' is and who his friends are. He could scarcely have accounted for those four men alone. But for this plan to work, you must be careful not to be seen with any of us. We must devise a way for you to secretly report your findings."

"With your permission, sir," said Lucas, we would rather see to that ourselves. The moment we discover anything, we will send Reese to you with the information or one of us will contact you directly, at a time and place of our own choosing. In that manner, if there is to be no set time and place for us to meet, then no one can find out about

Adams stared at him for a moment. "You sound as if you have some experience in such matters. Mr. Priest.”

"As you yourself said. Mr. Adams, these are troubled times," Lucas replied.

"I have merely learned how to be cautious. And now, with your permission, if we are to begin tonight. we'd best be on our way. Good day, gentlemen. You will be hearing from us.”

"Good fortune to you." Adams said. He waited till they'd left the room, then turned to Paul Revere. "Paul, I think it would be best if someone were to keep a weather eye upon those three. That new apprentice of yours you've been telling me about, young Jonathan, who came here with his uncle from the Pennsylvania frontier, you say he is a most resourceful lad?"

"Aye, made friends with the Indians, he did.” Revere said. "I've seen him use his fowling piece to drop a deer at over a hundred paces. Moves through the forest like a cat, he does."

"You said that he was eager to join us." Adams said. "Let us see, then, how resourceful he can be. Follow those three and find out where they go, then send young Jonathan to keep an eye on them discreetly and inform us of their movements."

"I'm on my way." Revere said, picking up his coat and hat.

“You don't trust them?" Edes said. "But Hunter vouched for them."

"Reese Hunter seems like a good man." Adams said. "Macintosh speaks highly of him. But then Mac speaks highly of anyone who will stand him to a drink. We have learned, most tragically, that there exists a group among the Tories who will stop at nothing to oppose us, not even murder. If we send men to spy upon them, then they can just as easily send men to spy on us. I. too, have learned how to be cautious, Ben.”

They had gone about eight blocks when Delaney said. "We're being followed."

“I know," said Hunter. "It’s Revere. I spotted him about two blocks ago. Adams must've sent him after us."

"Not a very trusting sort, is he?" Lucas said, smiling to himself.

That man was born too late," said Hunter. "He would have made one hell of an intelligence chief."

"Do we shake him?" Andre asked.

"No, what for?" Delaney said. "Let him report hack to Adams that we're doing exactly what we said we'd do."

“This is as far as I'd better go." said Hunter. "The Peacock Tavern is around the corner, at the end of the street. They should be serving the ordinary about now, so there'll be plenty of people there, especially after what happened this morning." He paused. "What'll you do if you run into Drakov? He knows you."

"Well, we don't know for sure he's here yet." Lucas said. "But if we should happen to run into him, we'll try to take him alive." "Knowing Drakov, that's not going to be easy. Especially if he's got friends among the Tories." Hunter said.

“I know." said Lucas "But we have to try to find out how many clones of himself he's made and where he's planted them. We won't take any chances, though. We can't afford having him cause a temporal disruption."

"Meaning you'll kill him if you have to," Hunter said.

"Only if we have to," Lucas said. "In which case, we may have to clock out in a hurry, so be where we can find you."

Hunter nodded. "I'll be at my place. Either way, you'll be getting back to me tonight?"

"Soon as we get a chance," said Lucas "In the meantime, we'd better see about renting a place of our own somewhere in town. It wouldn't do for three Tories from New York to be seen associating with a Son of Liberty."

"You can probably get rooms upstairs at the tavern." said Hunter, "but its liable to be a little noisy. If you want something more private, ask around. A lot of the merchants usually have property to rent around the waterfront. Don't be afraid to dicker price. it's expected."

"Thanks."

"Good luck. And watch yourselves, okay? You're my only ticket out of here."

The tavern was crowded, as Hunter had predicted. They had to wait a while for a table to be free, so they went up to the bar. There was no sign of Drakov, but they kept their eyes on the door, just in case. They each had a brace of loaded dueling pistols hidden underneath their coats and small lasers tucked away in well-concealed shoulder holsters underneath their shirts. Wearing them that way meant they wouldn't be able to get at them very quickly, but it was a necessary tradeoff for

optimum concealment.

Ordnance Section had experimented with

disguising the laser pistols as more primitive weapons, but none of those experiments had proved terribly successful in terms of being able to wear the weapons hidden. And the plasma weapons were simply too large for any such attempt to be practical. The smallest one was about the size of a 10 mm. semiautomatic with a slightly longer barrel. On covert field missions, it was generally standard practice not to carry them unless absolutely necessary. For added safety, each weapon was failsafed so that if the safety catch wasn't properly released, the weapon would self-destruct. The lasers would simply fuse and become useless lumps of molten nysteel. Anyone holding the weapon when the failsafe mechanism became activated would have a very brief instant of warning as the weapon suddenly started to become extremely hot. If that warning was not heeded and the weapon wasn't immediately dropped, the result would be excruciatingly painful and permanently disabling.

Many temporal agents simply resorted to more primitive, but in proper hands, no less effective tools, such as various martial arts weapons or lead projectile pistols. Steiger, who was a weapons collector, often went armed with a semiautomatic pistol or two. Others carried tiny, flat, plastic dart guns known as

'stingers." small enough to be concealed in the palm of the hand and loaded with slim magazines that held miniature needle darts loaded with powerful tranquilizer drugs or instantaneously lethal poisons. These weapons were almost completely silent in operation, making only a brief, very high-pitched whistling noise when fired. Each of the agents were armed with one of these, snapped butt down into spring-loaded holsters strapped to their forearms and hidden underneath their sleeves. Each of them also carried a slim commando knife in a sheath strapped either to the forearm or carried down the back. None of them carried any weapons in their pockets, the better to avoid the possibility of a skilled pickpocket coming away with an unexpected prize.

Fortunately, the clothing of this period was loose and somewhat bulky, which helped to hide the weapons, but they still only planned to use them as a last resort. If there was a need for any shooting to be done, especially with witnesses about, they would first reach for the dueling pistols, which to all outward appearances, looked no different from any other flintlock pistol of the time. In fact, they had been constructed in the 27th century of superior materials and cleverly designed so that they could be loaded with powder and ball and fired like any other flintlock or a strip of metal in front of the trigger guard could be pushed forward and a narrow, spring-loaded magazine could be inserted, turning the dueling pistol into a semiautomatic that fired specially designed. high-velocity ball ammo. The hammer for the semiautomatic function was machined into the flintlock hammer, so that there were actually two hammers, side by side, with the hammer for the semiauto designed to strike a hidden transfer bar that relayed the impact to the primer. The barrel of the dueling pistol was in reality an ingeniously camouflaged slide and extractor, with the actual barrel concealed inside. Only a close examination would reveal that the pistols were much more than they appeared to be.

While they were waiting for a table to be free. Lucas, Finn, and Andre ordered ale at the bar and took careful stock of their surroundings. Not surprisingly, most of the conversation centered around the four men who had been found hanging front the Liberty Tree.

"If you ask me, they got what they damn well deserved," one man sitting at a table close to them was saying to his friends. "It's time those Sons of Violence were treated to a taste of their own medicine!"

“I’m sorry. John. I don't agree. I say no good will come of it.” said one of his companions. "Say what you will about the Sons of Liberty. they are hooligans and skulkers, to be sure, but they have never murdered anyone."

"They might just as well have killed Ben Hallowell." the man named John said. "They split his skull for him! It's only by the grace of God he was not killed! And how many people have they stoned? A thrown rock can kill as surely as a musket ball! I tell you, it is only by pure chance that they have killed no one as yet. Perhaps now they will think twice before they attack a loyal subject of the king!"

"And perhaps now that four of them were slain, they will not hesitate to take a Tory life," the second man said. "Where does it stop, John? Already it is no longer safe to walk the streets at night." And who is to blame for that?" asked John. "The Sons of Lawlessness, that's who! What is Boston coming to? Our officials are afraid to enforce the laws: the governor is helpless; the sheriff hides his face; the watchmen hide whenever they hear a group of men approaching, if they are not themselves part of the mob: the militia cannot be counted on, for the radicals control them; and unlike New York, we have no British troops who can keep order. Are we merely to sit idle and do nothing while Boston is reduced to anarchy? Something must be done! I, for one, am not ashamed to say that I applaud whoever was responsible for hanging those four men! They got no less than what was coming to them! Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty. I say! Hellfire and damnation to them all!"

"Hear. hear!" said several other men at nearby tables.

"Is that your answer then" said John's friend. “That we take the law into our own hands? If we do that, then we are no better than the radical scum who call themselves the Sons of Liberty. "

"So what would you have us do, Carruthers?" John said. "Give in to the rioters?"

"No, most certainly not," said Carruthers. "But I, for one, have no stomach for committing murder. Violence merely begets more violence. I think Governor Bernard has the right idea and I think we should give him our support, rather than condemn him. He has petitioned General Gage to send troops from New York. We, as private citizens, can add our voices to his. For we are private citizens, gentlemen, not soldiers. We have families to care for and businesses to run. Let the king's troops deal with the lawbreakers. Mark my words, you'll see no more riot, and demonstrations when the troops arrive."

"On the contrary, sir," said Lucas. "You may well see even more riots and demonstrations:”

They turned to look at him. "What do you mean, sir?" asked Carruthers.

"Forgive me," Lucas said, "but I could not help but overhear your remarks. And though I have no doubt but that they were well intentioned, they were just as surely wrong."

"Indeed?" Carruthers said stiffly. "And who might you be, sir, that you speak with such, authority about these matters?"

"One who knows firsthand," said Lucas. "My name is Lucas Priest and these are my companions. Mr. Finn Delaney and his ward, young Andrew Cross. Until recently, we were shopkeepers in New York."

"New York, you say?"

“That's right," said Delaney. "Before you all decide to join your governor in petitioning General Gage for troops, you might want to know just what it means to have British soldiers quartered in your town. You should know what manner of men are to be found in the British army. The officers are often gentlemen, that's true, but the enlisted men are from society's dregs, often men who chose the army over prison, which would have been their destination."

“And you should know how their officers must keep these men in line." added Lucas. "Before you start clamoring for troops to keep order here in Boston, consider if you want your wives and children to see the spectacle of soldiers being whipped in public till their backs are bloody for the least offenses. "

"Whipped in public, do you say?"

"Aye, and the lash laid on by their Negro drummers, no less " continued Finn. "And if such a spectacle does not offend you, then consider what ideas such displays might give your slaves. Consider also that soldiers of the Crown are permitted to seek employment among the civilian population when they are not on duty. And they will work more cheaply than your average laborer. In New York, we have seen many men lose work and have their sympathies turned to the radical cause as a result. We have had our worship and our rest disturbed by the troops drilling on the Sabbath. We have had our stores reduced by being charged to supply rum and victuals for the troops. And we have often seen our daughters, their heads turned by the sight of pretty uniforms, used poorly by the soldiers, many of whom do not hesitate to rape when they cannot have their way. Is that what you want for Boston, sir'? For that is what you'll get if troops are sent here. You will see the public feeling turn against the soldiers and against those who asked for them, as well. I have no sympathy for radicals, far from it, but if General Gage sends troops to Boston, then you will see an increase in their numbers. I assure you."

"There!" said John Hewitt, "There speaks a man who knows! You see, Carruthers? Troops are not the answer. We do not require outsiders. It is for the citizens of Boston to see to their own troubles. And as we have seen this morning, there an, those who do not hesitate to do so!"

"You speak of murder. John Hewitt." said Carruthers.

"Does he?" asked Lucas. "I did not know those men, but if they were indeed guilty of the things you say, then I do not think that you can call it murder."

`"What else can you call it'?" Carruthers asked.

`"I will reply to your question with another question. sir." said Lucas. "Was it murder when we fought in the recent war against the French and Indians to protect our homes and property? And is it murder to protect yourself against a mob that would tear down your house and belabor you with clubs and stones? Is it murder to strike down men who would tar and feather you, as the radicals have done to officials in New York? Do you know what it means to be tarred and feathered or ridden on a fence rail until your groin splits? Is it murder when you are forced to kill in order to protect your life and liberty?"

"No, by God, it most certainly is not!" responded Hewitt, smashing his fist down on the table. "Those four Sons of Licentiousness were never murdered! They were brought to justice!"

“That reasonable men should call a lynching justice frightens me." Carruthers said. "Had those men been arrested? Were charges brought against them?

Was there a trial and was there a jury to convict them?"

"I do not know how things are in Boston." Finn said, "having only recently arrived here, but in New York, we would be hard-pressed indeed to find a jury to convict such men. The presence of the soldiers and the way the troops comport themselves make many of the citizens inclined to sympathize with radicals. And the Sons of Liberty are diligent in placing their friends upon the juries or threatening those who might have voted to convict. Would you render a guilty verdict if you knew that the Sons of Liberty would pay you and your family a visit in the middle of the night?"

Carruthers sighed heavily. "I must confess that I probably would not. I have a family to think of?

"You see?" said Lucas, "Do not blame yourself. Mr. Carruthers. No one can blame a man for thinking of the welfare of his family. And it is for the sake of the welfare of our families that something must be done about these people. I don't know how other. Think, but as for myself. I am encouraged that there are men in Boston who are willing to take a stand on the side of justice and do what must be done. We had begun to think that there were no men of courage left in these colonies. I am glad to discover we were wrong."

"You are a man after my own heart, sir." Hewitt said. "Will you and your two friends do me the honor of having a drink with me?"

"Thank you, it would be our pleasure." Lucas said.

Carruthers pushed his chair back and got up. "Forgive me, gentlemen," he said, "but I cannot in good conscience lift my glass to toast a lynching. I may not have a ready answer to your arguments, but I cannot believe that there is not a better way to solve our problems. May God help us all if them is not. Good night to you."

Hewitt shook his head as Carruthers left. "Do not think ill of him. gentlemen." he said, as they joined him at the table. "He means well."

"I am sure he does." said Lucas. "I cannot fault him for his principles. I only regret that he has not the backbone to stand up and fight for them."

"Would you?" said Hewitt. "Be willing to fight. I mean?"

Lucas grimaced. "I was willing to fight, for all the good it did me." he said, improvising as he went along. "To protest the Stamp Act, I was asked to join a boycott against British goods. If you can call it asking, that is, when they give you no other choice. I sought to reason with them. I am only a simple shopkeeper. I told them. How would my refusing to sell my customers the goods they wished to purchase solve the problem of the Stamp Act? And why, should I refuse them? If a woman wished to purchase silk imported from Great Britain, how could selling her that silk be treason to the colonies? Whom would it hurt if I chose not to sell it to her? Would it hurt the ministry? Or would it not hurt my customer and my own profit, which I have a right to? And what about the British goods I had in storage, which I had paid good money for? What was I to do with those? How could I conduct my business if I could not sell the goods that I had purchased? Would Parliament repeal the Stamp Tax simply because I was losing money?"

"And how did they respond?" said Hewitt.

"Need you ask'?" Lucas replied. "They threatened me. We had words and I told them to get out. It almost came to blows, but they left, warning me that I would soon have cause to reconsider. I feared there would be trouble, so that night I slept inside my shop. My partner, Finn. and Andrew slept upstairs. Sometime past midnight, I was awakened by my windows being shuttered. Finn and Andrew heard the noise and they ran down to help me, but there were just too many of them. They covered their faces, or blackened them with soot so that they could not be recognized, but I knew they were the same men who had threatened me earlier that day. We tried to fight them, but it was no use. Andrew had his nose bloodied and his head cut, Finn was knocked down, senseless, and I was seized and held with my arms pinned behind my back, forced to watch as they ransacked our wares and destroyed our shop. We lost everything."

"Damn the bastards!" Hewitt said.

"Aye, damn them, indeed." said Finn, following Priest's lead. "What they didn't break, they stole. What they didn't steal, they threw out into the street and burned. We hoped to make up some of our losses by selling the goods we had stored in the warehouse, but seeing the damage done to our shop, our customers stayed away. They were afraid to be seen buying goods from traitors! We were forced to sell what we had left in storage to other merchants, who had agreed to join the boycott and planned to keep the goods in storage until the boycott ended. We could not afford to do that, so we were forced to sell our goods in storage at a loss and leave New York."

"Shameful." Hewitt said. "Shameful, indeed."

"Things are not much better in the other colonies," said Lucas. "There are even more radicals in Rhode Island than in New York, but at least here in Boston, you seem to have men with the courage to stand up to them."

"I'd like to shake their hands, whoever they may be," said Andre.

“I only wish that I'd been there to help them" said Delaney.

"Perhaps, next time, you can." said Hewitt. He leaned toward them and lowered his voice. Have you heard of the headless horseman'?"

Lucas frowned, "The headless horseman?"

"There are those who say he is a ghost." said Hewitt. "He rides at night, on a black stallion. He appears out of nowhere, strikes out at the Sons of Liberty, and then disappears again without a trace."

“What sort of joke is this?" asked Finn.

"The four men found hanging in the Common this morning did not think it was a joke." said Hewitt.

“Who is this horseman?" Andre asked.

“No one knows," said Hewitt. "But word has it that he leads a band of men known as the Hellfire Club, loyal subjects of King George, who are not afraid to do what must be done to bring law and order hack to Boston. And word has it that there is room among that hand of men for those with the courage to join them."

"Where can these men be found?" asked Lucas.

"I have heard." said Hewitt, "that there is a certain country chapel where they meet. In fact, I have been curious to go myself to their next meeting. Perhaps you would like to come along?"

They exchanged glances.

"Yes," said Lucas, with a smile "Yes, I think we'd like that very much. indeed."

5

They took two rooms upstairs at the inn, one for Lucas and one for Finn and Andre, since Andre was posing as his "ward." The bed was barely large enough for Delaney alone, so no one thought it was unusual when they asked to have a cot brought in for "young Andrew."

"One of us should go and tell Hunter what's going on." said Andre.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." said Lucas “I can clock on over there and be back in—"

"No. I don't think that would be such a good idea." Andre said. "I was thinking maybe I should walk over there alone."

Lucas frowned. "Why?" "For all we know, Adams is still having us watched," she said. "If that's the case, then one of us should be seen going over to Hunter's. That way, we'll appear to be doing exactly what we said we'd do."

"She's got a point." Delaney said, nodding. "Besides," said Andre, "I'd like to find out if they're still keeping tabs on us. We've got no idea what to expect from this scenario. If I spot anyone following me, I don't want to have to wonder if it's someone Adams sent or somebody else. I can flush a tail much better on my own than with you two along and it would look less conspicuous, if only one of us left to meet with Hunter. We need to convince Adams that we know what we're doing and that we can be trusted, otherwise we're liable to be tripping over Sons of liberty everywhere we go."

"Okay." said Lucas. "I guess you're right. But be careful. The streets of Boston aren't safe after dark these days.

She grinned at him. "I learned how to take care of myself long before I met you. Lucas." she said. "But I appreciate the thought. See you guys in a while."

She picked up her coat and hat and left the room. Delaney went over to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly so he could look out into the street below. A few moments later, he saw Andre come out into the street. He continued to watch. Several seconds later, someone came out after her and quickly crossed the street, keeping to the shadows, heading in the same direction.

"She was right." Delaney said. "Adams still has somebody watching us."

“Was it Revere?" Lucas said, joining him at the window.

"I couldn't tell for sure." Delaney said, letting the curtain fall back into position and turning around. "Could've been someone else, I-“

He suddenly threw himself to one side, hit the floor and rolled, coming up to a kneeling position with his pistol cocked and ready.

"Well, that was certainly amusing," Dr. Darkness said. "What will you do for your next trick?"

“He had appeared sitting in the wooden chair across the room, with his legs crossed casually and a heavy blackthorn walking stick held across his lap. He was dressed in dark brown tweeds and a long, brown Inverness wool coat, which he wore unbuttoned. He wore a heavy gold watch chain in his tweed vest and a paisley silk ascot loosely tied around his neck. A brown fedora was tilted rakishly low over his right eye. They could see the back of the chair right through him. He seemed to flicker like a ghost on a television screen, parts of his body appearing solid one moment and transparent the next, the result of his atomic structure having been permanently tachyonized, making him "the man who was faster than light."

Delaney exhaled heavily and lowered the hammer on the gun. "Christ, Doc. I wish to hell you wouldn't do that!"

"What did you expect me to do, Delaney, come to the door and knock?" said Darkness. "Somehow I don't think you'd enjoy explaining to the locals what a ghost was doing knocking on your door in the middle of the night."

Delaney got up and put away the pistol.

"I always did rather enjoy Boston," Darkness said, pushing his hat back on his head, "but not during this particular time period. Another hundred years or so and it will be a worthwhile place to spend a weekend." He reached inside his coat and produced a bottle of wine. "I took the liberty of bringing this up from the wine cellar." he said. "Not exactly your California red. but I suppose it will do if you're not terribly particular.

He tossed the bottle to Delaney. Finn caught it one-handed and went over to the sideboard, where they had a decanter and some glasses.

"Come to check up on the old prototype, eh. Dec." said Lucas. wryly.

"No, I just happened to be passing through this century and I thought I'd stop by for a drink," said Darkness, sarcastically Delaney held a glass of wine out to him and Darkness negligently reached for it. His hand passed right through it. Delaney almost dropped the glass. Darkness frowned and grunted with annoyance. He reached for the glass again, this time more deliberately, and succeeded in taking it from Delaney's hand.

"It's getting much worse, isn't it?" said Lucas.

"Well, it isn't getting any better," Darkness said, "How about you? Any problems?"

"So far, so good," said Lucas.

"Taken any unscheduled trips lately?" Darkness asked. Lucas grimaced. "Not lately, no. I try not to allow myself to have any stray thoughts about specific times and places. I do my best to keep my mind on the here and now, wherever the here and now might be."

"Don't you find that a bit of a strain?" asked Darkness.

"It was a hell of a strain at first, but it seems to be getting easier. I guess my concentration is improving."

"What about when you go to bed at night? Don't you find your mind wandering?

Do you have nightmares?"

"I meditate," said Lucas. “I try to focus my mind. Like I said, it seems to be getting eater. I haven't had any nightmares for a while. At least, none I can remember. And I keep waking up in the same place, which seems rather encouraging."

"Yes, it certainly does," said Darkness. "Perhaps you're finally getting used to it. On the other hand, perhaps its because you're exercising greater mental discipline. One would think that would go by the boards when you fell asleep . . unless you're conditioning yourself with some sort of autosuggestion through your meditation." He frowned, it would be just like you to find a way to screw up the field testing by exercising greater self-control."

"Well, excuse me all to hell," said Lucas, sourly.

"You're missing the point. Priest," Darkness said. "While it is certainly laudable that you're working to improve your already considerable powers of concentration, it is nevertheless not the object of this exercise."

“Oh, it's an exercise?" said Lucas. "Forgive me. I thought we were talking about my life here."

"Which. I will remind you, I had gone to particular trouble to preserve," said Darkness. "The point is that an infant does not learn to walk by using various objects to steady itself. At some point, it has to let go and fall down a few times."

"Yeah, well, if I should happen to 'fall down,' as you put it," Lucas said, "I'll wind up in some other time period, possibly in a highly unpleasant situation. And in case it's escaped your notice, we're on a mission here. I don't exactly have the time for any side trips."

"Your mission here is only of secondary importance," Darkness said. "The telempathic temporal transponder will revolutionize time travel, but the field testing has to be completed first. That is the primary consideration, above everything else."

"To you, maybe," Lucas said. "To me, the primary consideration is staying in control. One slip and I'm liable to pop off to some other century. You have any idea what it's like having to live with that?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." said Darkness. "I have to live with the fact that I may discorporate at any time and cease to exist . . . or exist everywhere at once. Becoming some sort of cosmic phenomenon was never my ambition. Priest, but it was the price I had to pay in order to perfect the device I've given you."

"Well, forgive me if I'm not suitably grateful." Lucas said, "but I never asked to be your guinea pig."

"I don't expect your thanks," said Darkness.

"My thanks? For what? For playing God with my life?" Lucas snorted.

"Christ, Darkness, your arrogance is simply unbelievable!"

"Arrogance?" said Darkness. "Mine is the greatest scientific mind in the history of temporal physics. That isn't arrogance, it simply happens to be the truth. And there have been many times when I've wished it were not so. It's an awesome burden. I must find a way to overcome the confluence phenomenon because. indirectly, it was my work that brought it about. In the meantime, it's imperative to prevent the occurrence of a timestream split, because that could bring about a chain reaction of temporal disasters that nothing could overcome. The telempathic transponder is a vital element to maintaining the integrity of the timeline and you're the key to its success. Your personal concerns are insignificant compared to that responsibility. I can't afford to be concerned with individual sensitivities, Priest. There's far too much at stake. The instability in the timestream is increasing because of the c o n f l u e n c e p h e n o m e n o n . W e m u s t t r y t o b u y s o m e time . . . before we literally run out of it."

Lucas sighed. "All right. What do you want me to do?"

"Let go." said Darkness. "Stop fighting it. You won't be able to keep it up anyway. Sooner or later, you're bound to succumb to the strain. The transponder is designed to function on conscious thought. You have to become adapted to it just as an infant must learn how to walk. Eventually, you should be able to control it as easily as you control your appendages. But you have to give yourself a chance to become accustomed to it. In order to learn how to exercise proper control, you must first take the risk of losing it."

"And what happens if I lose it and translocate to some other time period right in the middle of a crisis, when my partners need me?" Lucas said.

"It's a risk you'll simply have to take." Darkness replied. "If you can keep your head about you and refrain from panic, you should be able to return just as quickly. That's the advantage of the telempathic transponder. You don't have to waste time programming transition coordinates. It's all designed into its particle-level chronicircuitry. Your thought triggers the process and the desired transition coordinates are automatically computed and selected. Don't be afraid

of it, Priest. Give it a chance to serve you."

"And what if it induces molecular instability?" asked Lucas.

"Highly unlikely." Darkness said. "I believe I've solved that flaw in the process."

"You beleive?" said Lucas. You mean you don't know for sure?"

"I'm a scientist. Priest. I can never know anything for sure. What do you want, guarantees? There aren't any in life."

"Or in death, it seems," said Lucas.

"I would strongly suggest that you stop agonizing over the metaphysical implications of your existence." Darkness said. "Concentrate on what you know and leave eschatological questions to philosophers. Otherwise you'll only give yourself an ulcer. My regards to Miss Crass."

He disappeared.

"That man is a stone lunatic." said Lucas. "Maybe." said Delaney. "But like it or not, he also happens to be right. He does have the greatest scientific mind in the history of temporal physics. If I was in his shoes. I'd probably be a bit around the bend myself."

"A bit around the bend?" said Lucas. "Hell, he is the bend."

"Don't think about Hell." said Delaney, with a grin. "If you do, the transponder just might send you there."

"Somehow I doubt that even Dr. Robert Darkness could have programmed those transition coordinates." said Lucas, with a wry smile. "Although on the other hand. I'm not all that sum I'd be surprised.”

Andre had spotted her tail within four blocks. And she knew right away that it wasn't Paul Revere. Whoever he was, he was very good. Revere had been clumsy in his shadowing attempts, but this man moved with a quick and silent grace, like a cat, keeping a careful distance and taking full advantage of the darkness. Several times, she had almost thought she lost him, but he was always there, dogging her heels persistently. She was almost to Hunter's place on Long Lane when she decided to make her move.

It was time, she thought, to demonstrate to Samuel Adams that the Sons of Liberty were not the only ones adept at skulking in the night. She turned a corner into Milk Street, ducked into an alleyway, and waited. She reached behind her neck and drew her knife. The shadower was on top of her almost before she knew it. He moved through the dark streets without a sound. As he passed the mouth of the alleyway, she quickly stepped out behind him, brought her arm around his neck, yanked him close, and held the knife up to his face. He gasped.

"If you resist. I'll cut your throat from ear to ear," she said, though she had no intention of making good on the threat.

"Don't!" he said. "Please!"

She swung him around and pressed him up against a wall, holding the knife point to his throat. He stared at her with fear. She quickly patted him down and relieved him of a large hunting knife in a beaded sheath at his belt.

She was surprised to see that he was just a boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen year old, slim and slightly shorter than she was, with light brown hair, dark eyes, and smooth, regular features. He probably hadn't even started to shave yet.

"You've been following me ever since I left the inn." she said. "Who are you?" For added emphasis, she pressed the knife point against his throat, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to frighten him.

"J-Jonathan Small." he stammered "I--I meant no harm, I swear."

"Who sent you'?"

He swallowed hard. "M-Mr. Revere. I-I am his apprentice. He--he said that I should follow you and your friends, see where you went and---and whom you met with."

"So." she said, taking away the knife. "It seems Sam Adams doesn't trust us. You're a Son of Liberty, then? Show me your medallion."

Jonathan looked down at the ground. "I—I haven't got one." he said. "Mr. Revere said that if I performed my task well, I would be accepted. But it seems that I have failed. They will not want me now."

“If they will not want you, then neither should they want Revere," she said.

"It took me far less time to spot him following us from The Two Palaverers than it took me to notice you, and you may tell him that I said so. Where did you learn to stalk like that?"

"I learned my woodcraft from the Indians in Pennsylvania," he said. "They taught me how to hunt with bow and arrow, how to use a knife and hatchet, and to move through the woods without making a sound. I thought that I had learned it well, yet it appears that I could not even fool a city dweller.”

She smiled "Don't be so hard on yourself, Jonathan." she "You would easily fool most people. but I am not without some knowledge of woodcraft myself.”

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen." she lied.

"You are scarcely older than myself." said Jonathan.

“True.” she said, "but sometimes a year or two can make all the difference in the world. I have seen my share of hardship and adversity. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Jonathan. You did very well, indeed. Do your friends call you Johnny'?"

"Yes."

“Well. Johnny, mine call me Andre, because my mother was a Basque. I hope we can be friends."

She gave him back his knife and held out her hand. He smiled and they shook.

“I'm on my way to see Reese Hunter and tell him that we have made contact with the Tories." she said. "With a man named John Hewitt, who promises to take us to a meeting of men who follow the horseman and oppose the Sons of Liberty. And give a message to Sam Adams that if he continues to send men to follow us, he may give us away. We are already risking much. We do not need him adding to the risk. Tell him we came to him forthrightly to offer our help. He must make up his mind whether to trust us or not."

Johnny nodded. "I will tell Mr. Revere, exactly as you said. And for whatever it is worth. I will also tell him that I trust you.”

“Thank you. Johnny." Andre said. "Now perhaps you'd best be on your way before—“

The stillness of the night was suddenly shattered by the sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats. A rider turned into the street, his handsome black stallion galloping at a breakneck pace. The rider was dressed all in black, a long black cloak with a high collar billowed out behind him like a cape. The high collar made it impossible to see his face and it appeared as if he had no head.

"The headless horseman!" Johnny said. "Run. Andre!"

He drew his hunting knife, holding it high, ready to throw, then shoved her away with a hand on her chest. He gasped and his eyes went wide. He had felt the breasts beneath her shirt.

“By God! You're a girl!"

"Johnny, look out!"

There was a hissing sound as the horseman's whip whistled through the air and cracked like pistol shot. Johnny cried out in pain and clutched his wrist as the knife fell from his hand. The horseman was upon them. Andre quickly drew her pistol, cocked the hammer, and fired. The shot had no effect. The horse struck her a glancing blow and she went spinning to the ground. Her pistol clattered to the street. She grunted with pain and Johnny was suddenly beside her, helping her up.

"Get up!" he said. "Get up quickly, or we're done for!"

She looked up and saw the black rider rein in and turn his horse. A figure ran out from the shadows into the street. Andre saw him lift his arm, aiming a gun, and a bright, pencil-thin beam of light shot out and seemed to strike the horseman squarely in the chest . . . and go right through him.

And suddenly the horseman was no longer there. He had simply vanished. "What

. . ." said Johnny, stunned. "Did you see? It's true! The horseman really is a ghost! He vanished into thin air! And that light . . ."

“It was only muzzle flash." said Andre quickly. "Doubtless one of your fellow Sons of Liberty."

"But . . where did he go?" asked Johnny.

“Took his shot and ran, most likely." Andre said.

“And who can blame him?" Johnny said, apparently accepting the explanation of the "muzzle flash." He shook his head with disbelief. "A ghost! A real ghost!

You saw it, didn't you, the way he disappeared?"

There was shouting as people flung open their windows and started to run out into the street. Andre grabbed Johnny by the arm and pulled him along down an alleyway. When they had gone far enough that they were well out of sight, she stopped and turned to face him.

"I'm not certain what I saw," said Andre. "But his horse felt solid enough to me. And you felt his whip."

"Aye, that I did." he said, looking at the bloody welt on his wrist. "But .

. . “ He stared at her. “But . . . you’re a girl! I felt your . . . that is. I—I—

" He looked away, flustered and embarrassed. "Forgive me. I—I never meant to---"

"Johnny. look at me." He met her gaze, his eyes wide.

"You said you trusted me." she said. "Did you really mean it?"

He nodded.

"Then I must trust you to keep my secret and never tell a soul." she said. Will you?"

“He nodded.

"Will you swear?"

"I swear it," he said. "I will tell no one if that is what you wish." He grimaced, ruefully. "Anyway, how would it look if they knew that I was bested by a girl? But—but why? Why do you pretend to be a boy?"

"Because I am as good a patriot as you are." she said, "and because I want to do my pan as badly as do you. But would they let me if they knew I was a girl?"

"No, naturally not." said Johnny. "That is a man's work."

“And can you deny that I can take care of myself as well as any man?" asked Andre.

Johnny looked down at the ground again and shook his head. "No." he said.

“No, in truth. I cannot. I must admit that you are powerful strong. For a girl. And you can shoot, too."

"Not well enough, apparently," said Andre. “ I missed the horseman."

"At such close range?" said Johnny. "I do not think so. You had aimed straight at him. The ball must have passed clean through him. And that other man, who fired from across the street . .

"We both missed. Johnny," she insisted. "I was forced to rush my shot, There was no time to take a careful aim. And a fast-moving target is difficult to hit. I do not believe that there is such a thing as ghosts."

"But we both saw him disappear!" said Johnny.

"We only thought we saw him disappear." said Andre. "Sometimes the eyes play tricks. Have you never been hunting in the woods and seen something move out of the corner of your eye, then turned to see that there was nothing there?"

"Yes, truly," Johnny said, "but this was different. We were both looking right at him!”

“And the street was dark." she said. "And there were people shouting from their windows and flinging open their doors. The horseman could have turned quickly into a narrow alleyway and in all the noise, we'd not have heard the stallion's hoofbeats. Now admit it, does that not sound much more likely than the existence of a ghost rider and a ghost horse, who seem to be solid flesh and blood one moment and disappear the next?"

Johnny sighed. "I suppose so." he said. He grimaced. You make me feel like a fool."

"It seems this horseman has fooled a lot of people," she said. "He clearly knows the streets of Boston well, knows all of the back alleys, knows of places to hide. He rides only when the streets are dark and the shadows can conceal him. He is a very clever man, but he is no ghost. And you arc no fool, Johnny Small.

"I have never in my life met a girl like you," he said.

"Nor I a boy like you." said Andre. She smiled and touched his cheek. Suddenly he darted forward and kissed her quickly on the lips. He seemed as taken aback by his own action as she was. Before she could respond, he turned and quickly ran down the alley and into the next street.

For a moment, Andre was too surprised to move. She slowly brought her fingertips up to her lips.

"Bit young for you, isn't he?"

She spun around and saw Steiger, leaning with his arms folded against the wall.

"Damn it, Creed! Don't go sneaking up on me like that!" She was grateful that in the darkness, he couldn't see her blush. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Officially, I suppose I'm A.W.O.L.." said Steiger. "Un-officially, I've assigned myself to keep an eye on Hunter. Frankly, I don't trust him."

"That was you back there, firing the laser." she said. "That was stupid. The boy saw you."

"Yes, but I think he accepted your explanation about the muzzle flash," said Steiger. "And the ghost rider made a much more lasting impression. As, no doubt, did you." He grinned. "I think that's called contributing to the delinquency of a minor, Lieutenant."

"Forget the wisecracks," she said. “What did you make of the horseman?"

"Well, he wasn't any ghost, that's for sure." said Steiger. "Somebody equipped with a warp disc, programmed for a fugue clocking sequence, so that he keeps clocking in and out faster than the eye can follow. What you see was only there a fraction of a second earlier. It's risky as all hell, a good way to wind up in the dead zone if you're not very careful, but it's certainly effective."

“That's what I figured, too." said Andre. "It's the only possible explanation. You think maybe it was Drakov?"

"Maybe, but I'd guess not," said Steiger. "He's too smart to take those kind of chances. It might well have been a hominoid. Which means that Hunter was right. Drakov is unquestionably here."

Andre nodded. “Or one of his clone, is,” she said. "Either way, it amounts to the same thing. Big trouble. And thanks to your using a laser, now he'll know we're here, as well."

"That ought to make things interesting," said Steiger.

“That really wasn't very smart, Creed." “You'd rather I'd have let him run you down'? You're lucky I was there. I had Hunter's place staked out from a room across the way. When I saw what was going down. I had to move fast. There wasn't a lot of time for planning something smart.”

"We'd better go see Hunter." she said.

"No, you go see him," Steiger said. "I don't want him to know I'm here."

“But his information has panned out,” she said. “ Drakov is here. A temporal disruption is in progress."

"All the more reason not to alert Hunter to my presence," Steiger said.

"That way I can keep an eye on him, just in he decides to take advantage of the situation. Or have you forgotten that he's on the other side?"

"I haven't forgotten." she said. "But he's been dealing straight with us so far.”

"And I intend to make sure he keeps it that way," Steiger said. "What do you figure Drakov's planning?"

She shook her head. "We don't know, yet. A disruption, obviously, but there's no way of telling exactly what he has in mind. If we're lucky, we may get to find out soon. We're supposed to be infiltrating a secret Tory group that's working against the Sons of Liberty. Sounds as if Drakov might be behind it, because there's no record of any such group in colonial history. The horseman is apparently their leader or at least their symbol. They've all been talking about him. Last night, four Sons of Liberty were hanged from the Liberty Tree.”

"A temporal anomaly," said Steiger.

"Yeah." said Andre. "The Sons of liberty were essentially unopposed during this time period. Sam Adams led them in agitating the colonies against the British. There are Sons of Liberty groups forming in other colonies and Adams will soon be running them all, through dispatch riders like Paul Revere, who will eventually become the core of the Committees of Correspondence between the colonies. The governor of Boston has sent to New York for British troops, but they're not due to arrive for a while yet. If the Sons of Liberty are stopped here, before things really get rolling, it could change the course of history. Drakov might actually be trying to prevent the American Revolution."

“Interesting." said Steiger.

“What do you mean?"

“In the congruent universe, the American Revolution was won by the British."

"What are you saying?" "I just find it interesting that Hunter put us onto this in the first place and that the disruption appears to be intended to alter our timeline in a way that would match the timeline of the congruent universe. Don't you find that interesting?" She stood silent for a moment.

"You think there's a C.I.S. team here that's behind all this and Hunter's trying to lure us into a trap'? But if the horseman's one of Drakov's hominoids, then how does that fit with-"

"We don't really know he is a hominoid." said Steiger. "And if he is, we don't know if he's one of Drakov's hominoids, do we'? The hominoids were originally developed in the congruent universe by Dr. Moreau as part of Project Infiltrator, before Drakov hijacked the entire project. The C.I.S. could still have some hominoids left. And there's also another possibility. For all we know. Hunter could be working with Drakov."

"I don't buy it." Andre said. "Drakov almost had Hunter killed. Hunter wants revenge."

"Or so he says." said Steiger. "Maybe they buried the hatchet. Maybe Drakov promised Hunter a trip back home in exchange for trapping us. Maybe Hunter isn't even Hunter."

“What do you mean?"

"Maybe he's a hominoid." Andre expelled her breath. "Jesus, we never even considered that. How the hell did you manage to come up with that one?"

"You play games with T.I.A. and the Network for as long as I did, you learn to suspect everyone and everything," said Steiger. "Don't forget. I infiltrated Drakov's old organization back when I was undercover as Sgt. Barry Martingale. I know how the man thinks. I wouldn't put it past him to play out a hand like that. Think about it."

“Andre sighed. "You may be right, that's the scary thing about it," she said. "The trouble is, how would we know?"

"The early hominoids had run numbers tattooed on them somewhere, often high up on the inner thigh." said Steiger. He grinned. "I'll leave it up to you to decide how you can manage to get that close. But if Hunter's got a run number on him somewhere, then he's probably a C.I.S. hominoid left over from Project Infiltrator. If he hasn't got a run number on him anywhere, then he may be one of Drakov's more advanced models. the result of genetic engineering and implant program ming. Which means he's essentially as human as you and I are, only Drakov doesn't think of them that way. Or maybe he's actually who he claims to be. Only that still doesn't tell us whose side he's really on."

Andre shook her head. "I sometimes wonder what it's like inside that mind of yours," she said. "It must get very complicated."

"Not really." Steiger said. "There's a refreshing clarity to knowing that when it gets right down to it, you can depend on one thing and one thing only Yourself."

"I see," she said. "I wonder, if that's what it comes down to, how can you he sure that I am who I say I am?"

Steiger chuckled. "Go see your friend. Hunter," he said. He touched his warp disc and clocked out.

6

"So," said Drakov, leaning back in the velvet upholstered reading chair, "it appears that we have been discovered."

"It was only by chance that the fugue clocking sequence saved me," Moffat said. removing his black horseman garb. He was visibly shaken. “How? How could they possibly have known?"

"What difference does it make?" said Drakov. "There are any number of possible explanations. The man with the laser might have been a Temporal Observer stationed in this time period. Or he might have been a member of the Underground or of the Network. In their fear of temporal interference, the fools have so thoroughly infiltrated the past that they are only making our job easier. However, I think it would be best to proceed on the assumption that a commando adjustment team has been dispatched to this temporal scenario. And if that's the case, then that should make things very interesting. indeed,"

"It's become too dangerous for you," said Moffat. "You must leave at once, for your own safety."

"Leave?" said Drakov, raising his eyebrows. He chuckled. wouldn't dream of it."

"But why? There is no need to take unnecessary chances. I can carry on for you here." Moffat said. "From what you've told me of the time Commando units, they won't rest until they had you. The risk to you is far too great-“

"What is life without the spice of risk'?" said Drakov, interrupting him.

"Besides, the risk to me is negligible. They do not know where I am and now that I have been forewarned. I will not be so careless as to frequent public places. The advantage is still mine. I can still act anytime I choose."

"Then let's kill Adams and have done with it," said Moffat. "We can wipe out the entire leadership of the Sons of Liberty in one quick stroke and completely change the course of history. They will be helpless to do anything about it and we can all make our escape."

"No." said Drakov, firmly. "I will choose the precise moment when to strike, so that the damage will have the greatest impact. I have planned this operation down to the final minute detail and I will not cheat myself of the opportunity to settle an old score. This time, the odds are on my side. The horseman and his followers are the obvious temporal anomaly that they must deal with first and in doing so, they are certain to reveal themselves. And while they have their hands full with the horseman and our Hellfire Club, thinking that is the main focus of the disruption. I will be free to make my move at the appropriate time. Their presence here changes nothing. Let us see what happens at the meeting tomorrow night." He smiled. Who knows, we may even have visitors. We shall have to do our best to make them welcome."

"I don't like it." Lucas said after Andre had finished giving her report.

“This boy could cause us real problems if he talks." "I don't think he will," said Andre. "I think we can trust him to keep quiet about me."

"What makes you so sure?" Lucas asked.

"He's infatuated with me," Andre said.

"I see. And you're willing to trust him on the basis of a kiss and a quick feel?" Lucas said.

Andre gave him a hard look. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear you say that.”

Lucas shook his head. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. But the fact remains that Johnny Small has become a complication. An infatuated seventeen-year-old is completely unpredictable."

"I can handle him," said Andre.

"Can you?" Lucas said. "How much experience do you have with teenager: having a crush on you? A seventeen year-old boy with his hormones in full roar can be one hell of a handful, especially if he’s got something to hold over you. What'll you do if he decides to pursue this infatuation to its logical conclusion?"

"I don't know," said Andre, "he's a cute kid. Maybe I'll let him."

"Very funny," Lucas said. "But suppose he makes a pass. At his age, he probably won't handle rejection very well. What happens if he threatens to expose you unless you accept his advances?"

"Well, then maybe for the sake of the mission. I'll just have to make the sacrifice and go to bed with him." said Andre.

"For Christ's sake, Andre, I'm serious!"

"What do you want me to do. Lucas?" she said angrily. "You want me to take him out because he's jeopardizing the security of the mission?"

"No, of course not, but---"

"What then?"

Lucas sighed in exasperation. "Hell, I don't know. But we've got to do something.

"Why?" said Delaney.

"What do you mean, why?"

"Just that. Why?" Delaney said. "So what if he tells the Sons of Liberty that Andre is a woman? How does that jeopardize our mission? What's the worst that could happen? We might encounter some 18th-century sexism'? I'm not sure it would even be a problem. The American colonies are fairly progressive for this time period. Women here own and operate their own businesses; on the frontier, they share in the work, hunt and help defend the homestead. The Sons of Liberty might raise a few eyebrows if they found out that Andre was passing as a male, hull hardly think it would cause any serious problems. Are you sure that's what's really bothering you?"

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" said Lucas.

"You tell me." Delaney said. "Are you quite certain that your apprehensions aren't based on a more personal reason?"

“Such as?"

Delaney stared at him. "We’ve known each other for a long time, partner." he said. "I don't really have to say it, do I'?"

"Yes, I think you do." said Lucas. "Spit it out."

"Stop it, both of you!" Andre said. "This isn't getting us anywhere. Our personal problems can wait until the mission is completed. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Finn's right. If Johnny talks, it might do some damage, but it won't be very serious. Anyway, I don't think it will come to that. I said I could handle him. It's my responsibility. Let me worry about it, okay?”

"Okay by me." Delaney said.

"Lucas?"

"Yeah, yeah, all right. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Are you questioning my judgment?" she said.

Lucas shook his head. "No. it isn't that, it's just ... hell, forget it. It's your call. Do what you think best.”

"All right, then," she said. Now that that's settled, the question is what do we do about Hunter'?"

"How much did you tell him'?" asked Delaney.

"Everything, except I left out the pan about Steiger, of course. In light of what Creed said, I think we have to assume that he could be double-dealing us. It's possible. There's still too much we don't know."

"Creed's been a spook so long, paranoia is a way of life with him," said Lucas. But frankly, I feel better knowing that he's keeping tabs on Hunter. It'll make our job a lot easier. I think we should keep Hunter on a 'need-to-know'

basis; use him as a liaison with Adams and the Sons of Liberty, but don't tell him anything that could affect the outcome of the mission. What he doesn't know can't hurt us."

"Hunter's not stupid." Andre said. "He's liable to figure out we're holding out on him and he isn't going to like it."

“That's his problem. Lucas said. "He doesn't have to like it. But if he's being on the level with us, he'll have to do things our way or he doesn't get to go back home."

" Does he get to go back home?” said Andre.

"Forrester gave his word," said Lucas.

"I know," she said, "but Steiger didn't like it."

"Creed's not stupid enough to go against Forrester's orders." said Delaney

“Maybe not," said Andre, "but I've been thinking about it and knowing Creed. I wouldn't, put it past him to find a loophole. Such as the fact that Forrester didn't say when Hunter would get to go back home. Creed just might decide to put him through interrogation first and find out if he was bluffing about those subliminal triggers."

"Are you saying we should try to stop him if he does?" said Lucas.

"Are you saying that we shouldn't?"

"Hunter is the opposition. Andre." Delaney said.

"That's not the point." said Andre, "If Hunter doesn't play straight with us. okay, all bets are off. but if he lives up to his end of the bargain. I think we ought to live up to ours."

"Steiger might not see it that way," Lucas said.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." she said. "I just want to know what we're going to do about it if it comes to that.”

"Let's just make sure we understand each other here." said Finn. "If Creed decides to take Hunter back when this is over and put him through the wringer before sending him back home, are you saying we should try to stop him? Lose the chance of gaining valuable intelligence and take the enemy's side against one of our own people?"

"We made a deal: Andre said.

"Things aren't always that simple. Andre," Lucas said.

"They're simple enough for me." she said. "I'm sorry if I'm not sufficiently modern to compromise my integrity for political expediency, but when I give my word, I keep it. We made a deal with that man and we all shook hands on it. That may not mean a lot to Steiger, but it means a lot to me and I've always believed it meant a lot to you. Or was I wrong?"

"No. you weren't wrong: said Lucas, "But I don't think Creed will understand."

"What about it. Finn?" she said, looking at him anxiously.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to make him understand, won't we?" said Delaney. There was a soft knock at the door. They exchanged quick glances. Delaney reached for his laser and held it out of sight. Lucas and Andre both took out their dueling pistols.

"Who is it?" Lucas said.

"A friend," came a soft voice from beyond the door.

Lucas glanced at Andre. "Let him in, but stand clear the moment you open the door."

Andre went to the door and slipped the bolt, then quickly opened it and stepped out of the way. The man who came in with his hands held out to his sides and slightly raised was Carruthers, the Tory who'd been sitting with John Hewitt.

"Easy," he said. "I’m unarmed."

Andre closed the door behind him, then quickly patted him down.

"He's clean."

"Lt. Paul Carruthers. Col. Priest, I presume?" Carruthers said, looking at Lucas.

“Who sent you?" Lucas said, still covering him with the pistol.

"Col. Steiger," he said. “It is all right if I put my hands down?"

Lucas nodded. "Steiger sent you from H.Q.?" he said.

Carruthers frowned. "No, this is my permanent post. Col. Steiger's here in Boston. You didn't know?"

Lucas loward his gun. "Yeah I knew. But you can't he too careful." "I understand. I reported a temporal anomaly and was told that a team had already been dispatched. Steiger briefed me about Hunter. Unusual situation."