Having successfully staked his claim on Edith, Henry felt he had already accomplished most of his goals in New York.
Huh? What is that smell again? He glanced out the carriage window and saw a bearded man on horseback about twenty meters ahead.
Henry's sense of smell was ten times more powerful than a normal person's. He was certain he had smelled this man's unique, pungent body odor at least four times that morning. The man was clean-shaven the first time he'd noticed him, but the build was the same. The beard had to be fake. Someone was tailing him.
The carriage continued on, and the bearded man turned down a side street. Henry immediately committed the scents of the three other riders within a sixty-meter radius to memory.
A few minutes later, as the last of those three riders disappeared, the familiar, unpleasant odor returned. This time it was coming from a man with a mustache. The vest was different, but the posture, the boots, the shirt—it was the same man.
It was confirmed. He was being followed, and by professionals. It had to be either the black market or the Pinkertons. A few minutes later, he caught the scent of one of the other men he had marked. There was no longer any doubt.
It seems my lesson wasn't harsh enough.
He was already approaching the Vanderbilt mansion. He decided to wait.
The carriage arrived ten minutes early for his 4 PM appointment. As he stepped out, he saw William Vanderbilt himself at the entrance, seeing off another guest—a distinguished, middle-aged man with a thick beard.
Vanderbilt saw him and gave a slight, apologetic smile. The other man, a senator named Garfield, turned to see who had caught the tycoon's attention.
"Mr. Henry Bruce, I presume?" Vanderbilt asked as Henry approached.
"I am. And you are?"
"William Vanderbilt. A pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Vanderbilt."
"Henry," Vanderbilt said, "this is Senator Garfield…"
At that exact moment, a sharp, stabbing pain flared in Henry's brow. He instinctively followed the feeling and saw it: five hundred meters down the street, the canvas cover of a parked wagon had been thrown back, revealing a man with a long-barreled rifle, its muzzle aimed directly at the Senator.
A puff of smoke erupted from the barrel. His enhanced vision allowed him to see the bullet streaking toward them, faster than the sound of the shot.
He activated his Super Reflexes.
The world slowed to a crawl. He lunged forward, grabbed Senator Garfield, and yanked him half a meter to the side.
Half a meter was the distance between life and death.
One of the Senator's guards cried out as the bullet tore through his shoulder.
CRACK!
The sound of the rifle shot finally arrived.
The distant sniper, seeing he had missed, was already reaching for a second rifle.
"Assassin!" Henry roared. "Get down!"
Vanderbilt's guards finally reacted, forming a human shield around the tycoon. But their pistols were useless at this range.
Henry, still holding Garfield, ducked behind the other guard. He used a grey pearl to reset his talent, and in the next instant, the sniper fired again, this time aiming for the guard who was blocking his shot.
Henry activated his Super Reflexes again. He shoved Garfield to the ground, then lunged forward and kicked the guard's legs out from under him.
The bullet, slowed by the distance, took 1.5 seconds to arrive. For Henry, with his accelerated perception, it was an eternity.
He had even consciously held back his speed, so as not to reveal the full extent of his abilities.
The pointed bullet zipped through the space where the two men had just been standing and slammed into the stone wall of the mansion behind them, sending a shower of chips and dust into the air.
Henry saw the sniper brazenly reloading, preparing for a third shot. His patience snapped.
A Sharps 1878 military rifle appeared in his hands. He raised the 12-pound weapon as if it were a toy and took aim.
BOOM!
He hadn't had time to practice with this specific rifle, so he didn't aim for the head. He aimed for the chest.
The massive .50-90 caliber round struck the sniper, and the man's body exploded in a shower of blood and viscera, flying backward a full meter before collapsing in a heap.
The driver of the wagon whipped the horses and began to flee.
Henry considered taking another shot, but decided against it. He could explain away one rifle as a magic trick. A second would be pushing it.
He stored the Sharps and helped the stunned Senator back to his feet.
"My apologies for the rough handling, Senator. The situation was urgent."
"No apologies are necessary," Garfield said, his voice firm and strong. "You just saved my life, son."