Chapter 3

Upon returning to my house in the city I found all ship-shape and in Bristol fashion. In other words everything was as I expected it to be. I stocked the kitchen with perishable goods and a case of good beer. I invited my handyman, electrician and contractor over the next Sunday afternoon for an appreciation feed. I purchased several thick prime-quality steaks, salad fixings, potatoes for baking and all the associated condiments. I gave each man my commendation and a one hundred dollar bill tip in appreciation for a job well done. I pulled aside my contractor and inquired about getting a refinisher in to work over the trim and possibly replace any poorly made pine or poplar trim-work with good oak, refinish the floors, trim and doors and in general give the place a good rejuvenation. After all, the place was over fifty years old and could use some tender loving care (TLC not being in the current dialect). According to him my other place was going well and would be ready almost a month early, by the end of the next week. I promised him a ten percent bonus for early completion. I believe that the man would have attempted to walk on water for me at that point. I patted myself on the back for a job well done and called it a night.

The next day I reclaimed my artwork purchases from the post office and gave them a thorough inspection. Everything came through perfectly. I was greatly relieved. I had spent quite a bit of money in those galleries. If they had been careless in shipping my goods my first response would have been arson. No, first wire the doors shut, THEN arson. The rugs were beautiful and set off the old home wonderfully. A few sculptures in the living room gave it life. I didn't have the upstairs electrical points upgraded because I didn't plan on using the bedrooms for anything but sleeping. an alarm clock and bedside lamp would work quite well on ungrounded outlets. The living room lighting was sufficient for the purpose once I added two multi-bulb Tiffany amber-colored shaded lamps. The new gas water heater made showering luxurious rather than an exercise in cold water Russian roulette. The new oval toilets were designed to accommodate a man's wedding tackle unlike the round monstrosities that pinched one where one desperately desired not to be pinched. I spent a few hours that afternoon at the library browsing through their architectural digests and publisher's catalogs finding books that I wished to order for my private library. With due compensation they were quite willing to order the books on arts and crafts furniture design that I requested.

I contacted the Chicago galleries that I had patronized and requested that lots similar to my previous purchases to be photographed and the images sent to me for approval prior to their purchase as I wished to furnish artwork for a second home. I received many photos--some alarming, some delightful. I thereby purchased by agent many sculptures, paintings, carpets and other delightful works of art and the cabinet maker's trade for the ranch house which was due to be completed soon.

I continued my morning stretches, exercises and katas. I broke more than one staff and each time I replaced it with one constructed of a tougher wood. Then I had to go through a period of familiarization. (well, its moment of inertia if you must be pedantic.) I did my best to blend into society yet I carried an amazing array of equipment everywhere I went. If I were to be drafted by whatever agency that had so thoroughly twisted my life's very timeline into a knot cared to pluck me up and send me God-knows-where I was determined to be prepared. I carried a staff, two tonfa, a sawed-off shotgun loaded with 12-gauge slugs, a shoulder-slung bag with 100 feet of slim rope, two heavy knives of the best steel I could procure, the best Japanese wakizashi money could buy, twenty spare shotgun shells, flint, steel, candle stubs, char-cloth and spalls--toothpicks tipped with molten sulfur for easy fire starting stored in a glass tube. Most of this fit under my topcoat. I continued to memorize as much as I could about different technologies such as sailing, chemistry, materials science, warfare thruout the ages from Roman times to the Great War, survival techniques from many environments, inventions of the native American Indians, the nomads of central Asia, the fishermen and traders of the Asian reaches and the Persians of the deserts of North Africa. I carried and practiced with an Assegai and carried three bolos which with my accuracy was impeccable. I kept two atl-atl throwers in my bag as they were difficult to shape in the wild and were the core of the art. My belligerence was unquestionable. My determination to survive unbroken. I resolved to be a Renaissance man, conversant in the arts musical, lyrical, mechanical and philosophical. Mystical I left to the dart-throwers called statisticians and weather forecasters.

I took up the guitar and drawing. The guitar went slowly--the art of drawing seemed to 'draw' me in. (apologies). My hand soon matched my eye and my eye gained skill to note details that my hand learned to copy. My poesy was despicable--hideous doggerel--yet in free verse I managed to evoke images and emotions. It takes time to hone skills such as these.

When the ranch house was completed (that's how I thought of it--the ranch, even though animals would be few and far between) I purchased enough furniture to make it comfortable as well as all the little stinking things that make a house livable, and re-stocked the kitchen from ground-zero. I thanked God that ground zero had no meaning in this here-and-now. As it was still before the winter freeze I asked that my contractor friend start building a 20 foot by 60 foot addition to the left of the house as a single room with a ten-foot ceiling, destined to be a library. I think that the idea of a private library of that size shook him but he did the job for me. It was done by Christmas and I slowly filled it with hand made display cases, library shelves as well as good solid tables and chairs of my own devising. I worked from the arts and crafts notebooks and built primarily in blonde oak with walnut highlights. I bought tiffany table lamps to illuminate the tables and had a t handyman come in every two weeks to wipe down all the wood with a combination of warmed lemon oil and boiled linseed oil. I built illuminated cabinets as well to display my stonework, brass work and ironwork done in back-time. Separate cabinets displayed other art from Asia, Japan, England, France, Russia, Egypt, Italy, America's desert SouthWest and Germany. I had a ten kilogram (22 pounds) block of gold cast and put it on the bottom shelf of a display stand as the base for a ratty old smoke-glazed pot as a practical joke. If and when a cleaning lady came across it she'd shit her bloomers.

By spring I had hired a professionally trained cook and a local young lady for housekeeping and companionship. No, not that, Dammit. I don't buy love, or rather entertainment. All three of us soon got comfortable enough with each other to the point where an evening in the hot tub with wine and conversation proved quite a treat among us. (in swimming-suits, of course). Anna was bright and fresh as a morning Lilly. Lois had been around the track a time or two. She was mature, matured and calm of demeanor. I don't think that I ever slipped one by Lois. I gave both of them generous budgets to decorate their apartments and each of them drove a jeep hard-top on my dime. I tried not to influence their personal time, be it alone or dating. They each had their own apartments and that was that. I rather insisted upon this. After outliving my wives I felt emasculated--drifting and alone. I adopted a pair of mixed-breed dogs from a local shelter. We ran together in the mornings. They gave me their love and I held them close to my heart. I suppose the ladies thought I was strange until one night I drank more than I should have and described my travels. I took them behind the house and threw an atl-atl thirty yards into a hay-bale target and damned near ran the spear through it. I showed them my flaked stonework, pottery, brass and iron work in the library and described how each were made. I wept as I told them how each of my wives died. I went to bed feeling depressed and alone.

I awoke in the pre-dark hours to someone sitting down on the bed next to me. It was Anna, my housekeeper.

"Ishmael, you need to get out and find someone. You're going to die alone, afraid each morning that you'll find yourself dropped somewhere during the night. You can't live like this."

I took her hand and pressed it to my lips.

"I'm sure you're right. I feel as if I've put my life on hold waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'll think more on this in the morning."

She leaned over to kiss my cheek then rose and returned to her bed. All in all Anna was a fine woman.

In the morning I rose, dressed and went outside to run with the dogs. When I returned I was handed a towel and greeted with two hugs. The increased familiarity made me smile. We all sat down to a fine breakfast then sat about the table talking over our coffees.

Anna asked "Have you decided anything?"

"I thought about it during my run. I'm going to keep perfecting my research and my arts but I'm going to visit town more often. If I join the Methodist church and attend their social functions I might attract or find myself attracted to someone. I'll have to dial back my belligerence or I'll never be seen as an acceptable catch to anyone but a marine."

Lois laughed so hard she almost snorted her coffee. I smiled, feeling a lot better than I had in quite a while. I did my katas and took a shower.

Upon returning to my bedroom to finish drying off and dressing I noted an 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper on my desk where previously sat nothing. With my heart in my throat I approached and read it without even touching it.

"Greetings.

We wish you to interfere with the war of 1861.

The transfer will occur in one month from this day.

Prepare as you wish and do as you will."

That was it. As I thought I continued to dress. Anna and Lois could tell that something had changed. I remained introspective, yet now had direction. The question of the other shoe dropping had been answered without the slightest ambiguity. I brought out my notebook and a pen then sat at the kitchen table with them. I placed the document before them and watched their faces. Their looks of shock and fright seemed curious to me. My emotions were banked, unable to flare for some reason. I wrote at the bottom of the document "'Please send me to early December of 1840. If I survive I wish to be returned to where and when I am now."

"Ladies, much preparation remains to be done and little time to do it."

I turned to my notebook and wrote as I spoke.

"Anna, talk it over with Lois as to which of you knows the best seamstress. I will require two sets of gentleman's clothes of the period of 1840 along with a hat, topcoat, vest, shoes and portmanteau. I will arrange for a gentleman's saber, a fine sword cane and a set of pistols. I must research the period and make plans. I shall have to visit Chicago to purchase as much gold coin of the period as I can. I shall require a canvas money belt to be made upon my return. Please make arrangements for the seamstress as quickly as possible as my measurements must be taken. Hop to it, ladies. We must get ready to visit town post haste." While they prepared I returned the mystery document to where I had found it. I returned to the breakfast table to outline the tasks facing me.

It seemed that subversion and violence were my best tools yet I was willing to let bribery rule the day if I could find the proper fulcrum or series of fulcrums to pry against. I couldn't conceive of any one thing that would stop the war short of a plague or thermonuclear means.

I knew that Lincoln was no peace maker--he was as much as a rabid anti-slavery rascal as the most belligerent abolitionist of the day, John Brown included despite all the rhetoric to the contrary. After all, his side won and guess who writes the history books? You guessed it, the winners.

After researching the politics and issues of the day my initial goals were three-fold--one, apply pressure through the church to condemn slavery and propose the grand experiment of exchanging slavery for time-limited indentured servitude. I thought at the time that this may lead to the row cropping seen later in the South but via less explosive means.

Two, to eliminate as many abolitionists and vocal pro-slavery advocates as possible so as to stop feeding the fires of conflict.

Three, to undermine the political process and remove several eventual presidents from the face of the earth as well as the most vituperative senators on both sides of the argument. Sumner and Preston both had to go. Botulism seemed an appropriate fate in light of the poison they both spewed. I canned several batches of acid-neutralized spaghetti sauce without heating them one bit, and left them on a warm, dark shelf in the garage for a few weeks. If they started to bubble while un-heated, I'd have my botulism cultures. I believed that I could transport it in sweetened beef agar.

I used the resources of the library to discover as much as I could about the times and the people thereabout Virginia, where most of the Civil War seemed to focus. I extensively researched the manufacture and stabilization of guncotton. If I couldn't convince 'em I'd play Guy Fawkes and start over with a new group after the emergency elections were held. I possessed my letter of marque and to hell with firing across their bows--I planned on sinking the bastards.

I added a half-dozen detonators wrapped in cotton batting and a small roll of 2-conductor phone wire to my possibles kit. I experimented with nitrate and fuel oil (ANFO) explosive initiated with guncotton as a primary explosive. I easily blew one hell of a hole in my wheat field. Hmm. Have to remember that for stump removal. Explosive welding would probably need a 'shockier' explosive--one with more brisance. My ears weren't ringing enough. I wondered if a penny in front of a pound of formed guncotton would work like an anti-tank shell? Naah, I'd stick with nitrated hexamine--RDX cast into a cylinder with a parabolic hole in the bottom and slip the whole thing into an open-bottomed 1/2 inch steel shell to constrict the blast. I have no idea how the military does it, but materials science says that should do it. If I could devise some sort of counter-explosive shell to act as an explosive mirror I should be able to gain an order of magnitude in efficiency ... Perhaps a two-part charge separated by clay slip ... Well, that was a concept that I could explore later. I always have been a proponent of focused explosives. It just seems so--elegant. What a word to describe a process designed to rip a jagged hole in solid nickel steel armor. I suppose enthusiastically belligerent would work as well. Ah, well--I wander. I WOULD take a hundred pounds of hexamine back with me in a backpack, though. The production of both guncotton and RDX is done in an ice water bath so my requiring returning in deep winter had a practical reason.