Lincoln in the Basement Chapter One Hundred One

Previously: Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. After two years of deceit, love and death, the war is over. Stanton forces Adam into a final conspiracy. Duff holds his last cabinet meeting posing as the president. Duff tells Alethia her friend Rose is dead.
Each ate a quiet supper—Duff in his bedroom, Alethia in hers—then they began packing. Take nothing to indicate they had been there and leave nothing to indicate the same, Stanton had told them. The silence was killing Duff, until he heard Tad’s laughter come down the hall, punctuated by mild admonitions by Tom Pendel. The noise drew Duff to his door.
“Mr. Pendel, thank you for being so kind to Tad.”
“It’s been a pleasure, sir.” He paused awkwardly. “And I hope to continue to do so for the next four years.”
“Of course, you will, Tom Pen,” Tad interjected brightly, going to Duff’s side. “Papa, you’re scaring old Tom Pen into thinking he’s going to lose his job.”
“Please excuse me, Mr. Pendel.” Duff smiled and patted Tad’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Don’t think a thing about it, sir.” Pendel turned to walk haltingly down the hall to the door of the service stairs.
After Pendel disappeared, Tad giggled and put his hand to his mouth. He pushed Duff into the bedroom and shut the door.
“I saved you that time, didn’t I, Mr. Papa?” Tad’s eyes glistened.
“Yes, you did.” Duff tousled Tad’s hair. “In a couple of hours your real parents will return, and all will be as it should be.”
“Papa did a good job when he picked you to replace him. And when he gets back, I’m going to tell him to fire that Mr. Stanton. I don’t like him.”
“I don’t think many people do like him.” He looked toward the door to Alethia’s bedroom. “You should say good-bye to Mrs. Mama. She’s very sad.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m gonna miss her too.” He looked up. “Sometime, if you’re on a street where Mama, Papa, and me pass, I can’t wave to you. You understand why, don’t you?”
“I understand. Now go say good-bye to Mrs. Mama.”
Duff followed Tad to the door and watched him open it and go to Alethia, who was closing her suitcase on the bed. At first he wanted to hear the tender exchange of farewells, but decided his heart, already strained by exceeding sorrow, could not bear it. Instead, Duff went to the window to watch the sun set over the Potomac, the same time of day he and Alethia first had come to the Executive Mansion.
Robert entered the room and looked down at the floor. “So you’re going to the theater tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow we can have a talk, all right?” He looked into Duff’s eyes, then shifted his gaze back to the floor.
“Of course.” Duff thought how he would not be the one to talk to Robert. “I don’t think I’ve said this much lately, son, but I’m very proud of you.” Duff was proud of Robert, and he was fond of Tad. He wished they had been his sons.
“Thank you, Father.” Robert’s face brightened.
After a warm hug, Robert disappeared down the hall into his room. Duff leaned against the door and sighed. He heard Tad close Alethia’s door and enter his own room. Duff picked up his suitcase and went to her door to knock. Alethia joined him to walk down the service stairs, then his thoughts were drowned out by the crackling of the straw mats. When they opened the door, they saw Adam standing there to take them to their carriage. He looked completely defeated to Duff, and he wanted to say something comforting, but it was futile because they both were dead men. Going through the service drive door, Adam stopped abruptly, his eyes startled as he stared at the carriage driver, a short, muscular man with dark red hair. When Duff glanced at Adam, he was inching backward to the door.
“Put the luggage in the back,” the driver ordered.
He and Alethia climbed into the carriage and settled down as it pulled away from the service driveway and into the dark street. Remembering his promise, Duff did not look at her, nor speak to her; instead, he focused on the dark horseman.
“You’re not our usual driver, are you?”
The man did not reply.
After several minutes, Duff noticed the carriage turned onto a shadowy, little-used road heading north to the Maryland countryside rather than south to the Potomac. Suddenly, he grasped that this was the time of their deaths. Acting on instinct, Duff quickly turned to Alethia and forced a light kiss on her lips. In the middle of her protest, a shot rang out, and Duff saw a red splotch on her forehead. Looking forward, he heard a loud report, and true silence overwhelmed the carriage.

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