shall please the commander of said department.'
What the hell, had he been lost in some dice game?
Jake handed the papers back. 'This isn't merely a matter of politics with Gates, is it?'
'I'm not a political man, Colonel,' said Flanagan, making a face as if he'd just eaten a peach out of season. 'I was a farmer before the war, and I share your displeasure for backroom maneuverings. But I assure you that General Schuyler would not have gone to the lengths he did to obtain your services if they were not critical.'
Nor would General Washington or General Greene have agreed, Jake realized. There was no arguing the strategic importance of defeating a British attack before it reached Albany. Indeed, if Burgoyne were to succeed and, at the same time, General Howe were to attack northwards from New York, all the land along the river would have to be abandoned. The Revolution would be strangled in the Middle States, and possibly in the entire country. With the British controlling the Atlantic and blocking the Hudson, there would be no way for the south to communicate with New England — Liberty would die a slow, withering death.
But Canada — good God!
'Colonel, Governor Carleton put a hundred crowns on my head,' said Jake. 'I'll be shot as soon as I reach Montreal. It's not that I'm afraid; it's just that I'm liable to be found out before I gather the intelligence and can return; the mission will fail.'
Well all right, he admitted to himself — he was a little afraid. But that never stopped him.
'You've faced these sorts of difficulties before,' said Flanagan. 'I understand that you snuck into Quebec and returned with a lock of Carleton's hair, stolen from his bed chamber.'
'A distortion,' said Jake, who despite the seriousness of the moment suppressed a smile at the memory. He'd actually taken the governor's wig, using it as part of a disguise to leave the enemy city in broad daylight.
'There are signs that the invasion will be launched within a week or ten days,' said Flanagan. 'If we don't know the route by then, we're lost. Even now, I have doubts about getting our forces in place.'
'He has to come down the lakes. It's the only way he can move a large army.'
'But which side?' asked the colonel. 'And when does he leave? With how many men, and what will be their organization? And who — '
'It's quite all right,' said Jake. 'I know what you need. But I worry that you may be depending too much on one man, and perhaps the wrong one at that.'
'Nonsense. If you can't pull this off, no one can. I have a fresh horse waiting out front. You'll find some money, papers and a map in the saddlebags. Anything else you need will be readily provided.'
Jake Stewart Gibbs stayed silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on the hands of the study's ornate grandfather clock. It was just about to strike midnight. Neither he nor the colonel spoke as the last seconds clicked off and the room shook with the deep, sonorous tones.
A condemned man sticking his tongue out at the executioner would find more mercy than Jake if he were captured in Canada. Even disguised, he could not count on passing unrecognized in Montreal or Quebec, as he so often did in New York City; not only would many of the local inhabitants remember him, but his profile was all too familiar to the governor himself.
Undoubtedly General Washington had weighed these dangers and decided to risk sending him nonetheless. The war stood at its most critical juncture. Trenton notwithstanding, the winter had been a difficult one. To lose Ticonderoga — let alone Albany — would be a crushing blow.
'I hope this is a good horse you've gotten me,' said Jake when the chimes came to an end. 'The last time I went to Canada I ended up traveling half the way on foot.'
Chapter Two
Flanagan didn't expect Jake to leave until morning, but the agent was one of that small class of men who can go for days with only a few winks of sleep. He did not intend to delay his start with anything approaching a full night's rest, and therefore launched his mission the second he left the Pastures, setting out on the best road north.
Which, not coincidentally, was the same road he had traveled to meet the colonel and which, not surprisingly, led him straight through Albany to Sarah's father's inn, The Golden Peacock.
Some day, Jake thought as he got off his horse, he must ask Mr. Roberts what the point of a golden but nonetheless monochromatic peacock would be, since the bird's whole reason for existence was the rainbow of colors at its tail. He hoped tonight, however, to avoid the opportunity to raise the question. Mr. Roberts was a powerfully long-winded speaker, and the explanation for the tavern's name would undoubtedly fill the sails of a fleet's worth of frigates. It would also make it difficult to sneak upstairs and take proper leave of Sarah, as he was honor-bound to do.
Jake was in luck, in a way — the front door was bolted, with a long board across it to prevent entry. This meant that all inside had gone to sleep, the Albany innkeeper taking precautions that once would have been shown only on the frontier.
The building was simple if sturdy, constructed of two stories; the room where Sarah would be waiting was in the rear. This could be easily reached from the back of Jake's new horse, a fine, athletic and, more importantly, very tall beast. There were but two complications: First, the glass window at the outside and then the secured shutter inside would have to be opened as quietly as possible. Second, and the reason stealth was required, Sarah's two sisters would be sleeping with her, and might cry out in alarm — or perhaps jealousy — if woken.
The horse Flanagan had provided was undoubtedly fleet of foot, but it turned out to be a less than ideal ladder. Though hitched to a nearby post, the animal shifted uneasily as Jake rose on its back. He cursed silently as he tried to steady himself against the side of the building with one hand and pry open the window with the other.
Fortunately, the laws of physics regarding levers and pulleys were working in his favor. Jake's long hunting knife made as a handy and efficient a machine as any the Romans had ever used, and the ropes inside the window casement handled their job with equal vigor. The window flicked upwards like a startled bird taking flight. Jake took this as a good sign — Sarah had no doubt greased the way for him.
With such optimistic portents, he did not fret when the horse darted to the side, leaving him hanging by his fingers on the sill. The animal was, after all, tied and would be waiting when he returned.
The bricks in the building were smoothly laid, with mortar placed smartly and quite thickly; a toehold was impossible. No matter. Jake had entered many a window at a greater height under much more dire circumstances, without the promise of so great a reward — placing the knife in his teeth, he pushed with his arms and shoulders to snatch his knees up on the ledge, using such strength that a lesser house might have fallen to the ground. Kneeling inside the window on the casement, half inside the house, Jake found the shutters inexplicably fastened. This was but a minor annoyance; once more the knife did good service, slipping the wooden fastener with such ease that Jake, in a more leisurely moment, would have considered whether the deer-antler handle housed a beneficent spirit.
No time for that now. Desire beat a steady drum of advance in his chest as he peeked inside. The room was dark, and the light from outside dim, the moon obscured by clouds; Jake crouched in the window for a long minute before making out the outlines of the bed. Sure enough, there were three figures there, each shadow a barely distinguishable lump of covers and nightcaps.
One of the sisters was snoring almost as thickly as a man; the sound was fortunate, as it covered the soft creak in the floorboards when Jake snaked inside. But even with his eyes fully adjusted to the interior light, he couldn't distinguish one lump from the other — which was Sarah?
He was just about to prod the body closest to the window, figuring that his lover would have posted herself there so she could hear his approach, when he was interrupted by a loud hiss from behind. Spinning quickly, he dropped to his knees, afraid that he was about to have a long and not altogether comfortable interview with Sarah's mother.
