This was the truth, Bell knew. But the next day, when he caught up with Osgood Hennessy at the cutoff railhead, the Southern Pacific president was looking at the bright side too, partly because construction was roaring ahead of schedule again. The last long tunnel on the route to the Cascade Canyon Bridge-Tunnel 13-was almost holed through.
“We’re beating him at every turn,” Hennessy exulted. “New York was bad, but, bad as it was, everyone knows it could have been so much worse. The Southern Pacific comes out smelling like a rose. Now your boys averted a catastrophic collision. And you say you’re closing in on the blacksmith who made that hook that derailed the Coast Line Limited.”
Bell had passed on the essence of Dashwood’s report, that the blacksmith who had fled must know something about the hook and therefore about the Wrecker, too. Bell had ordered Larry Sanders to give Dashwood the full support of the Los Angeles office in running down the blacksmith, who had disappeared without a trace. With Van Dorn’s entire Los Angeles force hunting him, he should turn up soon.
“That blacksmith could lead you straight to the Wrecker,” said Hennessy.
“That is my hope,” said Bell.
“It strikes me that you’ve got the murdering radical on the run. He won’t have time to make trouble if he’s running to stay ahead of you.”
“I hope you are right, sir. But we mustn’t forget that the Wrecker is resourceful. And he plans ahead, far ahead. We know now that he hired his accomplice in the New York attack as long as a year ago. That’s why I crossed the continent to ask you one question face-to-face.”
“What’s that?”
“I assure you we speak in confidence. In return, I must ask you to be entirely candid.”
“That was understood from the beginning,” Hennessy growled. “What the hell are you asking?”
“Who might have known of your plan to acquire a controlling interest in the New Jersey Central Railroad?”
“No one.”
“No one? No lawyer? No banker?”
“I had to play it close to the vest.”
“But surely a complex endeavor demands the help of various experts.”
“I’d sic one lawyer on one portion of the arrangement and another on another. Same with bankers. I put different devils on different aspects. If the word got out, J. P. Morgan and Vanderbilt would fall on me like landslides. The longer I kept it quiet, the better my shot at roping in the Jersey Central.”
“So no one attorney or banker understood the entire picture?”
“Correct … Of course,” Hennessy reflected, “a really sharp devil might put two and two together.”
Bell took out his notebook.
“Please name those bankers and attorneys who might have known enough to surmise your intention.”
Hennessy fired off four names, taking care to point out that, of them, only two were actually likely to have understood the broader picture. Bell wrote them down.
“Would you have shared knowledge of the impending arrangement with your engineers and superintendents who would take charge of the new line?”
Hennessy hesitated. “To a certain extent. But, again, I gave them only as much information as was necessary to keep them on track.”
“Would you give me the names of those who might have parlayed the information to understand your intention?”
Hennessy mentioned two engineers. Bell wrote them down and put away his book.
“Did Lillian know?”
“Lillian? Of course. But she wasn’t about to blab it.”
“Mrs. Comden?”
“Same as Lillian.”
“Did you share your plans with Senator Kincaid?”