Feeling bold, he didn’t go back the way he’d come, but went to the stairs and listened. Down he went. Midway between the second floor and the first, he heard the faint creak of hinges from the kitchen. The maid exiting her quarters. A light came on, drawers opened and closed, feet shuffled across smooth tiles. A midnight snack was in the offing. From this angle, if she were at the doorway to the kitchen, and it was open, she’d see him sneak out. Taking two quick breaths, he finished going down the stairs and, taking a glance back, saw the door remain closed. He used a tiny can of oil to squirt the hinges of the door. The door opened silently, and out he went into the night and his car parked three blocks away. The vehicle was a swept wing MG J2 with the overhead camshaft eliminated in favor of a pushrod unit for greater power and torque.
The British import was not a working person’s car and, truth be told, the professional at the wheel, the thief with a purpose, Jimmie Dale, had not known backbreaking labor. He had, however, put his freedom and life on the line numerous times in pursuit of justice for the common man and woman. Those who had to toil and strain in factory jobs and in the fields to make those of his ilk richer. His spite for the class into which he was born was further fueled by uncovering, in his youth, a direct ancestor who made his fortune in the north as one of the largest slave traders. A man who had essentially bought off a coastal town to cover his crimes and fabricate a false image as an industrialist. Literal blood money was passed down in the Dale family and used to start businesses, including that of the thief’s father.
His father had not known the truth, but once the younger Dale knew, he couldn’t ignore history. He’d found out after he’d first begin cracking safes for fun—not taking anything, because he didn’t need the money. Testing himself against the reaches of the authorities. But then he was blackmailed by a woman he at first only knew as Toscin, then later, when they fell in love, as Marie LaSalle. She knew of his crimes and cajoled him into using his skill to expose a crime ring and other nefarious undertakings. Then Toscin told him about his ancestor, producing the proof. He had no moral choice but to dedicate himself to atoning for that wrong. It was through Marie that he met his recent cohort in his extra-curricular activities, Nikola Tesla. Certainly, he was an enigmatic sort. But his obsession with besting Edison had dovetailed with Dale and Marie’s goal of exposing and bringing down the collaboration of the well-heeled and members of the government subverting the Constitution for their own end.
Driving home, Dale passed the St. James Club on Fifth Avenue. He was a member, as had been his late father. Several of the men on the papers he’d photographed that night were also members. He smiled ruefully, knowing he would soon be burglarizing a few of their homes and offices as well.
CHAPTER NINE
The following day at the Garden of the Redeemer Church on 135th Street a charged discussion took place. The edifice took up a good stretch of the block between Broadway and Amsterdam Avenue and had been designed by black architect Vertner Tandy. He was one of the seven founders of the Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity at Cornell University and the first registered negro architect of New York. His most famous building was arguably Madam C.J. Walker’s Harlem mansion Villa Lewaro. While the church was not as opulent as the mansion, it nonetheless had its charms—from its Gothic spire reaching heavenward to the eye-catching presence of a single, hexagonal-shaped stained-glass window on the second story overlooking the thoroughfare. At the curb below various cars were parked as a meeting was taking place in the Library of Reflection. It was a large room where one wall was devoted floor-to-ceiling to books on the study of the Christian faith. There were plush chairs, couches, a conference table and a standing globe in the room, as well.
The gathering was informal, the men seated in the chairs or on the couches. The furniture having been arranged by staff so that no matter where you sat, you could see the others. There were also several teacarts which held that beverage, as well as pots of coffee and sugar cookies on bone china plates. The attendees were various clergymen of certain standing in Harlem, San Juan Hill, and a few other sections of the city there to have a sit down with Charles Toliver, aka Daddy Paradise.
