Free Rebel Fire by Andrew Lane Page B

point, but for the life of him he couldn’t work out what it was.
    â€œThe Mexicans have a drink they distil from a cactus,” Crowe said good-humouredly. “Tequila, they call it. Maybe we could adopt that.”
    â€œWhat’s a cactus?” Sherlock asked.
    â€œIt’s a fleshy plant with a thick skin an’ covered with spikes,” Crowe responded. “It grows in the heat an’ the sand of the hot, arid lands in Texas an’ New Mexico an’ California. The thick skin keeps the water from evaporatin’ away, an’ the spikes stop cows an’ horses an’ suchlike from eatin’ it for the water content. Either the cactus is evidence of a Designer who makes things differently for different environments, so they can best survive, or it’s evidence that there’s some force that pushes livin’ organisms to change and develop so as to best survive in whatever place they find themselves, as Mr. Charles Darwin contends. You pay your money and you make your choice.”
    â€œBack to the subject at hand, what have you been able to discover?” Mycroft asked.
    Crowe shrugged. “I found the house. It’s empty. Looks like the occupants cleared out in a hurry. I talked to a farmworker along the road who saw them leave. He said there were four of them. One looked like he was asleep, one had his head all bandaged up, an’ the other two were scowlin’ like they’d got a long an’ unpleasant journey ahead of them.”
    â€œThe birds have flown.” Mycroft considered for a moment. “Is there any more evidence that the sleeping man was John Wilkes Booth?”
    Crowe shrugged. “Save what your brother told us, nothin’. It’s instructive that his face was scarred by an old fire. The last thing that was heard of John Wilkes Booth was when he was involved in a shootout in a barn in Virginia with the Army. They’d tracked him down an’ ordered him to surrender, but he opened fire. The Army fired back, an’ somewhere along the line the barn caught fire. Prob’ly an oil lamp got knocked over. Anyhow, when the fire had died down the Army recovered a body from the wreckage. It was so badly burned they couldn’t identify it properly, but they assumed it was Booth. Looks now like Booth escaped but some accomplice got caught in the fire an’ couldn’t get out in time.” He paused. “Booth was always highly strung. Seems now that the enormity of what he did an’ the subsequent escape an’ the fire have caused his mind to snap. What’s interestin’ to me is that he’s obviously under the care an’ protection of an organization of some kind, an’ they obviously have a need for him. He ain’t goin’ to lead anyone anymore, not from what the lad here has said, so what else can he do for them?”
    â€œHe’s a figurehead,” Mycroft pointed out. “Probably the most famous Confederate apart from General Lee and Jefferson Davis. If there’s even a stub of Confederate supporters left in America, and if they have even the slightest flicker of interest in overturning the new presidency and installing one more sympathetic to their own beliefs, then John Wilkes Booth would be an ideal man for them to use as a rallying point. All they have to do is wheel him out at a few secret rallies and make a point about how he had the courage to try to bring down the Union with a few well-aimed bullets, and they could whip up a crowd into a frenzy.”
    â€œThat’s what I was afraid of,” Crowe said, nodding. “Don’t matter if he’s of unsound mind—they just have to dope him up enough so he can stand still on a stage, an’ they can make all kinds of speeches around him.” He paused for a moment. “What’s the position of the British government on all of this?”
    â€œI can’t speak for the British government,”