Lincoln in the Basement Chapter Twenty-Three

WardhillLamon

Ward Hill Lamon was Lincoln’s personal bodyguard

Previously in the novel: War Secretary Edwin Stanton held President and Mrs. Lincoln captive under guard in basement of the White House. He guided his substitute Lincoln through his first Cabinet meeting even though there were some complications.

As the carriage arrived at the Stanton home on Avenue K, Stanton saw two imposing figures waiting for him. This next meeting would be the linchpin to secure his plan’s success. He had to convince Lincoln’s personal bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon, the taller of the two men standing in the dark outside his house, that the president suddenly had been whisked away before Lamon could be notified of new assassination reports.
Stanton leaned out of the carriage and called up to the driver, “If you could be so kind, let these two gentlemen join me in the carriage for a brief conversation before you return to the War Department.”
The shorter of the two men, Stanton’s private bodyguard, Lafayette C. Baker, entered the carriage first. Stanton took a deep breath as Lamon plopped on the seat opposite him. A fellow Illinois lawyer and close Lincoln friend, he would not be easily deluded.
“What’s this about the president?” Lamon said.
“Yes, you were out of pocket this afternoon…”
“That’s because this man of yours had me out in the countryside looking for quinine in a young woman’s skirt,” Lamon said in a huff. “So what if a Southern belle wants to sneak a few bottles of quinine to Virginia?”
“That young woman was the niece of Postmaster General Montgomery Blair,” Baker interjected. Stanton could see the resentment in Baker’s eyes as he looked at Lamon, which delighted him. Baker had been a mechanic before the war, while Lamon had been a lawyer. Jealousy made Baker the perfect accomplice.
“Reports were intercepted indicating immediate danger to the president’s life,” Stanton continued. “He’s in a safe place, along with his wife, until such time as the danger passes. To insure no public panic, we have placed a man and woman who look like the Lincolns in the White House.”
“Where is the president, Anderson Cottage?”
“I can’t tell.”
“I’m his personal bodyguard, dammit!”
“Don’t let your ego get in the way of national security,” Baker said.
“I have no ego,” Lamon said, sitting up stiffly.
“I’ll communicate with the president, and transmit his orders to the impersonator, who’ll inform the Cabinet of the decisions.”
“This is damned foolishness.”
Baker smiled. “Why? Because you didn’t think of it first?”
Stanton held his breath as Lamon shuffled uncomfortably. This moment would make the scheme. If Lamon could be convinced, then all others would be easy to control.
“How long?”
Stanton shrugged. “Until the threat subsides.”
“That could be to the end of the war.”
“Exactly,” Baker said.
“So I’m just district marshal now.” Lamon blew out a long sigh.
“Oh no. You’re still needed.” Stanton tried to hide his relief in the shadows of the carriage. “The double still needs to be protected.”
“Damn.”
“Don’t let him or the woman know you’re aware they’re not the real Lincolns.” Stanton tapped his foot. “That’s it. That’s all you need to know.”
“All I need to know?”
“That’s what the secretary said,” Baker replied.
“You may leave now.”
Lamon exited the carriage, mumbling obscenities, and disappeared into the night. Stanton leaned back, pleased with his progress.
“So. Tell me how it went with Miss Buckner.”
“Why, she’s in the Old Capitol to spend the night.” Baker brushed back his light brown hair and smiled.
“Very good.”
“And her mother and—who else was in the party going to Virginia?”
“A minister, Buck Bailey.”
“I can imagine the quality of sermon Buck Bailey would deliver.” Stanton grunted with disdain. “Are they incarcerated as well?”
“No, sir. I tried, but Lamon stopped it. He said they looked too shocked when I found the quinine bottles sewn into Miss Buckner’s dress to be part of the plot.”
“What was her defense?”
“She showed her military governor’s pass, signed by Major Doster, and a note from the president, and she said her uncle had supplied the money for the shopping trip.”
Leaning forward, Stanton said, “Major Doster, huh? Well, rouse the provost marshal from bed and tell him I want to see the memorandum of Mr. Blair’s recommendation first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Shall I inform the postmaster general of his niece’s unfortunate incarceration?”
“Of course.” Stanton began to get out of the carriage, then paused. “Tonight. Mr. Blair has been a bit outspoken at Cabinet meetings lately. Perhaps this will dampen his spirit.”
“Yes, sir.” Baker followed him to the street curb.
Stanton tapped the seat of the carriage. “You may go.”
“Your plan is going well, sir,” Baker said as the carriage began to pull away.
“There have been a few developments I didn’t foresee.” He nodded thoughtfully. “But, yes, it’s going well.” He looked at Baker. “Be about your duties.”
“Yes, sir.” He disappeared in the shadows to pursue his dark missions.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *