"I've also just tried the primary rendezvous point again. Still no response. It's likely the other six, and our initial contact, are all compromised."
"So our plan to infiltrate the Vanderbilt estate is off the table."
"I've decided we will proceed as planned," Jacob said, his voice firm. "We'll scout the estate, find a suitable firing position, and take him out from a distance. Jim, John, what do you think?"
The two men exchanged a look. "You're the leader, Jacob," Jim said. "We'll follow your orders."
"We've faced worse odds," John added. "And if Henry is the one who took out our brothers, and Alston, then we have a score to settle."
Jacob smiled. "Then it's decided. We'll scout the Vanderbilt estate in the morning. Jim, you'll be on sniper duty with me. John, you'll provide cover and arrange our extraction. We may only get one shot at a man like this."
At 10 PM, Henry said his goodbyes to Edith and her parents and returned to the Astor House. He stopped the carriage halfway, changed into his disguise, and rode for the apartment on 42nd street. He knocked, but there was no answer. The remaining assassins, he realized, had figured out the safe house was blown. He returned to the hotel.
He barricaded his door with the granite blocks, then took out the safe he had retrieved from the Pinkerton's office and went to work. Inside, he found $5,686 in cash and a trove of account ledgers.
Next, he opened the three safes from the Whyos headquarters.
The haul was staggering. In addition to more ledgers, he found 13,600 ounces of gold, $188,400 in cash, and over $113,000 in bearer bonds and railroad securities. There were also nine property deeds, six IOUs, and a collection of diamond and sapphire jewelry.
His personal fortune had just swelled by over $600,000. It was the hoard of a gang that had ruled the New York underworld for over a decade.
At that same time, in a luxury suite just down the hall from Henry's, the French socialite, Beretta, was admiring her reflection. She had accepted the contract. The client was paying an exorbitant fifty thousand dollars. With that, and her own savings, she could finally return to France and reclaim a piece of her family's lost fortune.
She knew that for a beautiful woman of a fallen noble house, there were only two paths: to marry into new money, or to become a courtesan, a demimondaine. She had chosen a third path. She had used her beauty, her connections, and her skills to become one of the world's most elite and sought-after assassins.
So you are powerful, Henry Bruce, she thought, tracing a line down her own flawless skin. But what good is strength against a woman's wiles?
Early the next morning, Jacob and his two men were scouting the perimeter of the Vanderbilt estate on Long Island. The 150-acre property was a fortress, surrounded by a 3.3-meter-high stone wall. There were no good firing positions within a 500-meter radius. The only viable option was a cluster of tall oak trees, 900 meters from the main house.
"The Eye of Balor," Abine, arrived half an hour after them. He chose a similar position on the opposite side of the estate. The 1,100-meter distance was at the edge of his rifle's effective range, but the position offered better cover and a cleaner escape route.
At 9 AM, Henry received a telegram from Mayor William. His plans had changed; a separate escort had been arranged for Alice. Pete and Mary were to travel with them.
Henry went to Pete's room. "I have to delay my return to Frisco," he explained. "The Mayor has arranged an escort for Alice on August 1st. You and Mary will go with them."
He then gave them a stark warning. "And one more thing. Stay in the hotel today. Don't go out. I have intel that there are assassins in the city looking for me. You could become targets."
Pete and Mary looked at each other, their travel plans ruined, but they understood.
Henry then went to the Sinclair estate. He and Alice walked in the garden.
"Will you be at Consuelo's party this afternoon, Alice?"
"No, but my father will be there."
"Are you still leaving on the 1st?"
"Yes. My father will arrange the tickets. When will you be returning?"
"I have some business to attend to," he said, his voice casual. "A few people I need to have a talk with."
Alice looked at him, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. It was the same phrase he had used before he had gone to "talk" to the leader of the Whyos.
In the Chicago headquarters of the black market, Morrison was meeting with a man named Alan, a representative of the true powers behind the organization.
"Nine of our best men, six of them missing. The Pinkerton's New York branch, destroyed. This Henry is a problem," Alan said. "The Banshee sent me to hear your plan. There can be no more failures."
Morrison laid out his strategy. He had hired two of the world's greatest assassins: "The Eye of Balor," a legendary sniper, for a price of eighty thousand dollars, and "The Black Widow Spider Queen," a femme fatale known only as Beretta, for fifty thousand. These two, along with the three remaining Diamond-level operatives led by Jacob, would form the core of his new plan.
"Success, at any cost," Alan said, his eyes cold. "The bosses are furious. They want Henry to die without a grave."
After leaving the Sinclair estate, Henry returned to the hotel and had lunch with Pete and Mary.
"Where have you two been sightseeing?" he asked.
"Trinity Church, Broadway, and Central Park," Pete said enthusiastically. "We were hoping to go out to Long Island to see the ocean."
Henry just shook his head. Trinity Church was in the heart of the dangerous Downtown district. They had been incredibly lucky.
Just then, Rachel and Robert Murphy entered the restaurant. They saw Henry and immediately came over to his table. Robert's face was a mask of gratitude, but his eyes were filled with a deep, weary sadness.
"Mr. Bruce," he said, "my daughter and I will be leaving tomorrow. If you have a moment, I would like to pay you a visit in your room."
"Of course," Henry said. "I have half an hour after I finish my meal. Come then."
An hour later, in his suite, Henry received the father and daughter. Robert presented him with a beautifully carved wooden box. Inside were one hundred ounces of gold.
"It is a small token of my immense gratitude," Robert said.
It was likely more than half of the man's remaining fortune.
"After I was targeted by the Whyos," Robert explained, "I knew it was about more than just money. That is why I did not use this to try and pay them off."
Henry nodded and placed the box on the table. "Is your trouble with Senator Smith resolved?"
Robert gave a bitter laugh. "The Senator is a powerful man. None of my old contacts will dare to stand against him. Rachel and I are leaving for Canada tomorrow."
"I see. I heard you were in the silk, tea, and liquor trade," Henry said, changing the subject. "Tell me about it."
Robert began to speak, and Henry listened intently. He learned that Robert was no ordinary merchant. He was a smuggler, with deep connections to the Hispanic and Jewish liquor and cigar syndicates in Texas and California.