Solomon returns to his hotel room and what he finds has his blood running cold. A gold twenty-dollar coin is on his bed. He knows it's from Aiden. He turns and stoops down, retrieving the case he hid in the frame under his bed. Using a key, he unlocks the case, revealing dual .44 caliber black powder revolvers. Solid black steel frames with well-worn walnut handles. These are the guns which carried him through the war and through many a tight spot with Indians, thieves, and cutthroats. Now they will protect the woman he hopes to marry and the daughter of his heart.
After servicing the pistols, he straps on his holsters and loads the six shot revolvers. Time to hunt. Walking down to the next level of the hotel he hears a woman screaming and loud voices. A crowd has gathered, and they are carrying an older Asian woman out of a room, her screams are that of a wounded animal.
“Her daughter was murdered. Someone slit her throat and tortured the poor child.” Someone says, “Only an animal would do this,” another voice says. “Blood everywhere,” the voices paint a horrific picture and Solomon feels sick to his stomach. It could have been Faith. He knows Aiden is responsible and he feels responsible for leading the monster here.
Solomon decides to talk to the Police Chief and fill Harry Wells in as well. This monster must be stopped! His thoughts are interrupted as the body is carried out. A hush falls over the crowd. Two men carry the lifeless body out on a gurney. It is covered in a white sheet, which is quickly becoming crimson.
A voice calls out, “If anyone has information which will help solve this murder, please stay and we will get to you as soon as possible. No detail is too small. I ask that you remember this could be your twelve-year-old family member.”
Solomon pushes through the crowd, and when the Chief of Police sees him, he sighs in relief. “I hope you've come to help, Mr. Abbott?”
His years in the service and his standing in the community make him a valuable asset. He has worked with the police in the past on other cases.
“I have information that may help, and I would be glad to help with the interviews. How many men do you have working on this?” The rest of Solomon's evening is spent interviewing and combing through the crime scene.
He would not be hunting Aiden tonight, but with the description he has given to the local law enforcement, he shouldn't be hard to locate. Tomorrow, volunteers will hand out sketches in all the local areas and down by the docks. It should make his life a little more difficult. In the morning he will meet with Harry at the bank and discuss the next move. When he goes to sleep that night, his thoughts are of two ladies he wishes he were with. Life is too short to spend it wishing. Solomon falls asleep with a smile thinking of his girls.
Aiden walks into Pier 9 and finds Jeb waiting with four other men. All have the look and smell of dock workers. They are all sipping on beer and laughing while waiting for him to arrive.
“Gentlemen, I can see you got started without me.” A drink is quickly ordered, and he sits down tossing a small bag on the table. It's gold dust, around one ounce. All the laughter stops, and the mood shifts to one of intense desire.
“That's right boys. This is the first installment. I pay those who work for me very well. I demand loyalty and no questions asked. You do what I say when I say, and you will be rich.”
Jeb leans forward and grabs the bag. He quickly unties the small bag and they all gasp. ‘It’s real gold dust! Where did you get this?”
Aiden sips his beer and cracks a smile. “Surely you don't expect me to answer that. I can tell you that there is more to come. Tell me the plan you've come up with. You destroy that bank for me, and I will make sure each one of you has an identical bag waiting for you when this is over.”
Astonishment flutters through the group, and the noise, smoke and the smell fades away as they discuss the plan for the destruction of the Wells Fargo bank.
“I’ve done this drop before.” Jeb states, leaning forward, “The vault is in the center of the bank. The nitroglycerin is kept in the basement for obvious reasons. It is packed in straw and carefully stored until the shipping date.” He leans forward and sketches out the interior of the bank. “If the Nitro makes it into the vault you will not be able to detonate it from the outside.”
Aiden interrupts, “I agree. It must be done before it enters the building. I say you unload it to the sidewalk and then tell them you will be moving it inside. Then simply say there is a leak and you must first check the crate for damage. Tell them you need to go get some tools, and instead you escape before it goes off.”
“How is it going to be detonated? A charge?” Another man asks.
“Leave that to me,” Aiden tells him, smiling, “you make the drop, get out, and I will handle the rest.”
On Friday morning, Solomon packs his bags. He is going to Western
