Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Half Title Page
- Books by Elizabeth Camden
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Historical Note
- Questions for Discussion
- In 2021, look for Luke Delacroix’s story in
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
There could be no reasoning with a man who thought electrical machines were sending him messages. While a piece of Nathaniel sympathized with Jankowski’s pain, it was time to be blunt, forceful, and intimidating. He waited until the president’s carriage was gone, then took the letter from Jankowski.
“I am going to deliver this letter to the president. If you hear nothing from him, it is because he wishes no contact with you. He is the most powerful man in the nation, and if he wishes to pursue a relationship with you, he will. You will not attempt to contact—”
Mr. Jankowski shot to his feet. “Unacceptable!”
Nathaniel stood. “I repeat. You will not contact the president. Any further communication will be considered a threat. These four officers are going to sit with you for a while. I will arrange for dinner to be sent over, and tomorrow you will board a train back to New Jersey.”
Jankowski shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not going to do it, boy. I won’t give up.”
Possibly, but the police departments along their upcoming route would be blanketed with Jankowski’s photograph, and the police in Jersey City would be instructed to keep an eye on him.
And Nathaniel would be on the lookout. As he headed back to the train, the gnawing anxiety never far beneath the surface roared to life.
The mood in the dining car that evening was unexpectedly boisterous, exacerbating Nathaniel’s headache. Only three hours had elapsed from the moment he had recognized Mr. Jankowski in the crowd, but he was exhausted as he took a seat at dinner. Most of the others in the dining car had mugs of beer or glasses of wine, but Nathaniel was in no mood to celebrate.
The president made a point of stopping at Nathaniel’s table. “Well done, Mr. Trask,” he said formally, offering a quick handshake.
Nathaniel stood. “Thank you, sir.”
The interaction took only a few seconds, then McKinley was on his way toward his own table.
Sullivan tried to push a beer on Nathaniel. “Relax!” he said. “We have no duties until we pull into New Orleans. You spotted the bad guy. Neutralized him. We should be celebrating.”
Nathaniel wasn’t entitled to celebrate. A dangerously unstable man had gotten within shooting distance of the president several times over the space of a week before Nathaniel had spotted him.
After dinner he retreated to the privacy of the sleeping car, where he could think. He brought his logbook and sat at the only table to record the day’s events. What could he learn from this breach that could be used to tighten security in the future? According to Mr. Jankowski, his wife and others in their town knew of his delusions about the president. As soon as Rembrandt developed the photograph, Nathaniel would distribute it and hopefully keep Jankowski neutralized, but how many other delusional men were out there?