Breakthroughs

Actually, Luther Bliss wasn’t quite a Yankee. He was the chief of the Kentucky State Police in the readmitted administration-head of the secret police, in other words. “Now, then, boy,” he said in a mild voice, “tell me again how that Ke

The only thing Cinci

A muscle in Bliss’ right cheek jumped. A scar, as from a knife, cut that cheek, which made the tic more noticeable. “Lots of people used to work for the Rebel son of a bitch,” he said, mildly still. “How come he chose you?” His eyes, a peculiar pale brown, were very intent.

“I ain’t got a clue, suh,” Cinci

Bliss steepled his fingers and leaned across the table toward him. “Now let’s just talk about your job, shall we? Lieutenant Ke

If he was, he failed. Cinci

“That’s what Lieutenant Straubing says, too,” Bliss agreed with a nod. “He says you work as hard as any man he ever saw. But he also says there’ve been a hell of a lot of fires and explosions in units his outfit has resupplied. You want to tell me about that?”

“Only thing I know is, a couple times last year the lieutenant said we should all keep an eye on each other on account of trouble like that,” Cinci

He did know they hadn’t found the ingredients for the cigar-shaped firebombs he’d got from Tom Ke

Bliss kept tiptoeing around the edges of the truth: “Ke

“Yes, suh, I did that, every now and then,” Cinci

“Black folks,” Bliss said musingly. “It’ll be different for niggers now that Kentucky’s back in the USA. Not so hard like it was before.”

“Hope so, suh,” Cinci

Bliss clicked his tongue between his teeth. “Won’t be illegal for niggers to be Socialists, even, long as they’re peaceable about it.” He paused. “Of course, niggers likely won’t get to vote right away. It’s not like this was New England or somewhere like that.”

“No, suh,” Cinci

He just hoped that oblique reference meant Luther Bliss was still tiptoeing around his co

Before he could ask it, the door to the room in which he was questioning Cinci

“Sir,” said the man who’d bearded him in his den, “the president is outside, and he wants to talk with you.”

Bliss’ pale brown eyes widened. Before he could say anything, Theodore Roosevelt strode into the interrogation chamber. That made Cinci

“Get the trains, Mr. President,” Bliss answered. “Get the trains and ship about two people out of three somewhere else, because that’s the only way you’re going to purge Kentucky. If we’re lucky, we can keep most of the Rebs from raising too much Cain behind our lines till we’ve won the war. I think I can do that much. The other? Go talk to a preacher, because I’m not in the miracles game.”

Cinci

Roosevelt seemed to respect him, too. “It will have to do,” he said, “though I hate half measures.” He paid attention to Cinci

Cinci

The only trouble with that stratagem was Bliss’ noticing his shifting style. The secret policeman’s hunting-dog eyes widened, just for a moment. To Roosevelt, he said, “Hard to say, your Excellency. Fugitive Confederate underground man named Ke

Thinking fast, Cinci

“That strikes me as a fair question,” Roosevelt said. “How about it, Bliss?”

Bliss had not an ounce of retreat in him. “Mr. President, we’re also looking at his co

“Have you found any?” Roosevelt demanded.

“Not yet,” the secret policeman said stolidly.

“And I’m not a bit surprised, either,” Roosevelt said. “How in the blue blazes do you expect a man to be simultaneously aiding the Confederate resistance and the Marxist resistance, when the Marxists came as close to overthrowing the CSA as we’ve managed ourselves?”

“Sir, this is Kentucky,” Bliss said. “Everything’s topsy-turvy here.”

“Poppycock!” Roosevelt snorted. “Drivel! Things either make logical sense or they don’t, and that’s as true in Kentucky as it is in New Hampshire. If you’re trying to make out that this Negro is a Reb and a Red at the same time, and if you haven’t got any solid evidence he’s either one, I suggest-no, I don’t suggest, I order-that you let him go on about his lawful occasions.”

It wasn’t poppycock. It wasn’t drivel. Cinci