Lincoln's Wizard by Tracy Hickman, Dan Willis Page A

the bridge and were heading out over the river. He stood and used his knife to slice a small hole in the gasbag. The lifeboat lurched beneath him and he had to grab on to the ropes to keep his footing. He had the sensation of his stomach being left behind as the little boat dropped out from under his feet. It reminded him of the elevator in the Federal House in New York.
    “Cut another hole,” Sergeant Young said after a moment. “We’re coming down too slow; we’re going to miss the water.”
    Braxton reached up and plunged the blade of his knife into the belly of the canvas bag again. This time the lifeboat dropped at an alarming rate. Trees on the riverbank rose up over them as they descended and the gentle gurgling of the sluggish river reached Braxton’s ears.
    “Hang on,” the Sergeant called.
    Braxton dropped down on his seat and grabbed the gunnel for support. A moment later the boat slammed into the water with a splash that soaked them all. Davis was launched into the river by the impact and began flailing wildly.
    “I don’t think he can swim,” someone said.
    Sergeant Young stood up, leaned outboard, and hauled Davis, coughing and sputtering, back into the boat with one hand. Braxton made a mental note never to play at fisticuffs with the Sergeant.
    “Paddle for shore, men,” Braxton said.
    The lifeboat had been equipped with paddles and the men began hauling for the southern shore. Braxton scanned the near bank, but there were no signs of anyone. A few moments later the little lifeboat ran aground.
    “Get her unloaded, men,” Sergeant Young said as he stepped out and hauled the boat up higher onto the bank.
    The men hauled their weapons and the dynamite out of the lifeboat while Braxton sliced open the gasbag, letting the last of the hydrogen out of it. He cut the ropes that bound it to the boat and dragged the bag into the water where the current swept it away.
    “That’s all the gear, Captain,” the Sergeant said.
    Braxton nodded.
    “Then scuttle this boat,” he said. “No one’s going to mistake it for a simple river boat.”
    “You two,” Young said, picking two of the men. “Take axes to the bottom, but be quiet about it.”
    The men climbed back in the boat and began hacking at the floor of the lifeboat. Braxton was concerned about the noise it made, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. In a few minutes they had opened a wide hole in the bottom. With that done, they climbed out and pushed the boat out into the current. It bobbed away a few yards before dropping below the water and out of sight.
    “All right,” Braxton said. “I hope you’re all rested because we need to be finished with that bridge before the sun comes up.”
    “You heard the captain,” Sergeant Young said. “Let’s get going.”
    As the men moved out, Young came and walked by Braxton.
    “I wouldn’t disagree with you in front of the men,” he said in a whisper. “But chopping up that boat made a terrible racket, and sound carries well over water. We’d better watch ourselves. If someone heard that, they’ll come looking.”
    “I didn’t see anyone,” Braxton said. “I think we’re safe.”
    O O O
    Thomas White didn’t remember what had awakened him, but he did know that his bladder was full. He staggered up out of his little bunk and stepped out onto the deck of his barge. The crew were snoring happily on shore where the remnants of their fire had burned down to nothing.
    He ignored them as he walked across the deck to the river and began relieving himself over the side. He’d had too much to drink the night before and the splashing sound made his head hurt.
    It wasn’t just that, though. A rhythmic pounding took him, hammering on his sore head like demons in Hell’s foundry. Somewhere, over across the water, someone was cutting firewood.
    Thomas looked at the sky. It’s still night; why is some fool up at this hour chopping wood?
    He peered out across the water and saw two men