Once inside the dark, neglected Old Capitol Prison, a designated guard in a Union army uniform led Bureau operatives J.B. Carver and Gables into the cellar. It was dank and musty, and smelled of stale excrement. The rock floors were slick and candles dotted the walls, giving the place inconsistent illumination. Through a murky corridor was a room with an iron door. Seated outside the door was another uniformed guard who snapped to attention when the group approached. The operatives’ escort ordered the door unlocked and the guard on duty complied. Inside, sitting on a stool with a cloak over his face, sat the little spy.
Archibald Leonard was neither shaking nor convulsing. The door guard entered the room and removed the cloak from the prisoner’s head. Leonard squinted, adjusting his eyes to the light, which indicated that his face had been covered for a while. Carver noted slight recognition in Leonard’s eyes when the little man saw Carver and Gables in the doorway. But Carver saw no fear in Leonard’s eyes as the operatives entered the cell.
“I’ll let you to it,” the escorting guard told the operatives. He and the door guard left the cell, slammed the door shut and turned the lock. The three men were locked in the cell with Leonard tied to a chair, hands bound behind him. Carver continued watching Leonard’s eyes as the operatives closed in. To Carver’s surprise, Leonard still showed no outward sign of fear.
As previously determined, Carver was to begin the interrogation. “We have the letter that was on your person, Leonard,” he said without providing any evidence. “Will you confirm that it was written by your hand?”
Leonard stared ahead blankly, indicating that he wasn’t going to divulge anything without a fight. Carver stepped into Leonard’s line of vision and glared down at him.
“Regardless of whether you answer,” Carver said, “we have reason to believe that you wrote the letter. Before we proceed, let’s dispense with any nonsense. Just tell us why you took that map and who you’re working for. Did Jeff Davis and his cronies put you up to this?”
The prisoner swallowed and cracked his neck. It seemed to Carver that he was struggling to keep silent but deep down he wanted to talk. A drop of water from the damp rock ceiling dropped down on Leonard’s balding head.
“I understand that you haven’t been fed since you were locked up last evening,” Carver said. “Perhaps some food will help you find your tongue again?”
Nothing. Carver said, “Is there anything you’d like to say?”
The prisoner snorted, then spat a glob on Carver’s boot. As Carver shook it off, Gables stretched forward with his lanky frame and delivered a right fist against Leonard’s jaw. The smack of the knuckles against the flesh echoed in the stone room. The prisoner’s head fell forward, as if he was unconscious. Then Leonard looked back up and spit out a bloody tooth. He opened his mouth to show the operatives the new gap in the top left section of his yellow teeth.
The prisoner swallowed some blood and finally spoke. His speech was thick from the spit and blood in his mouth. He muttered, “I have nothing to say.”
Carver sighed and looked at Gables. “This won’t be so easy,” he said. He turned back to Leonard. “Our government is prepared to offer you leniency,” Carver tried. “A light sentence, a guarantee that you won’t see the gallows. If you’ll just divulge what you know.”
“I know nothing, and neither do you.”
Carver tried again. “Look Leonard, we know you’re a clerk in the Navy Department. We know you’ve been trying to get information for a while. We know you took that map. And we have your letter.” Carver pulled the letter from his front coat pocket. “In this letter you refer clearly to Delta Exporting Company in New Orleans. Right here –‘if you cannot find me, contact Delta Exporting in New Orleans as they will know where to reach me.’”
The prisoner said nothing. Carver continued. “We can research this without your help. We are offering you a chance to make it easier for yourself. I’ll have you know that we are empowered to do whatever necessary to get the information we need from you. And this man here is chomping at the bit to do it.”
Gables smiled. Leonard refused to look at him. Finally the man dropped his head and began weeping.
“You have something you’d like to tell us?” Carver asked.
Leonard blubbered and caught his breath. “I can’t. I just can’t. I have a family.” He wept again.
Gables growled. “He’s bluffing.” He shoved the prisoner off the stool and to the floor. Carver grabbed Gables to keep him from doing any more harm.
“Is Delta Exporting your employer?” Carver asked him as he quivered on the stone floor.
“Yes, yes it was. But that’s not who sent me here. They have no knowledge of this.”
“Then who does?”
The prisoner cried more. “I can’t. You don’t understand.”
“Name who sent you here to steal federal war plans!” Carver demanded.
“I can’t!”
Gables kicked the prisoner in the ribs as he lay weeping. Leonard screamed again, “I can’t!”
Gables kicked harder.
“For the love of God, they’ll kill my family!”
Gables grabbed the prisoner by the stringy hair on the side of his head. “So will we.”
“You don’t understand, they know my family. My mother is old. My sister is just married with a child. They’ll get them all. They are ruthless. They will stop at nothing. You don’t understand who they are.”