Prologue
14th of April 1865
"Am I dead, is this the end", Michael Haapanen thought when he drifted in and out of consciousness.
There had been a loud bang and then he had felt tearing pain in his right arm.
Warm life's essence had poured out from his body and theater around of him fell into chaos.
Women were screaming in terror and men were swearing.
When the vortex of pain was tossing Michael around he thought about his family. He saw his mother's tired, but loving eyes, he remembered his father's strong hands, which had so many times comforted him in his sorrow.
Michael remembered his older sister Mary whom was so like their dear mother and little Sarah who had just turned four.
They all believed in him and they needed him.
This couldn't be the end, despite of his pains Michael shouted across the chaos:
"I need to see the President Abraham Lincoln!"
No one seemed to hear his voice, but he shouted again from the top of lungs, although every breath was behind of struggle.
He needed to have his voice to be heard; his family's survival depended on it.
Despite of his efforts darkness swallowed him and the theater disappeared.
After undefined time Michael opened wearily his eyes.
He was in a dimly lighted room in unfamiliar bed; he tried to turn on his side, but sharp pain in his arm made him to stay still.
Michael moaned in pain and then he heard movement from his side, there was someone else with him.
Michael turned slowly his head and saw a tall man in black beside of his bed.
The man had been reading a book and when he had heard Michael's moan he took off his oval spectacles and turned his sharp blue eyes towards him.
"Where I am", Michael asked, barely audible voice.
"You are in a boarding house at Tenth Street ", the man replied.
His voice was calm and gentle and Michael thought him to a doctor.
"What happened?"
Now man's face grew darker, when he returned back to that chaotic incident in his memories.
"There was a shooting in the theatre."
"The President, did he die", Michael cried in fear.
He couldn't bear the idea that he had failed his family, he had been so close to succeed in his mission and now it had been taken away from him.
The man lifted up his hand to silence Michael and said:
"Be at ease, the President is alive and well. Without of you he would probably be dead."
Michael sighed in relief and closed his eyes.
There was still hope.
"I heard that you wished to see the President?"
"Yes sir, I have come all the way from Tomahawk Iowa to see him. I have very important letter to him from my father", Michael explained.
"Is that so, what does your father want with the President?"
Michael thought for a moment, he wasn't sure if he could trust to this stranger.
His father had advised him not to trust on anyone until he would have given the letter to the President Lincoln.
On the other hand Henry Tate's hand would be extremely long if this man would be one of his minions.
"Well, what say you?"
"I will say my words only to the President", Michael insisted, he didn't dare to take any chances, not now.
The man folded his spectacles and put them into breast pocket.
"I'm surprised that you don't recognize me at all", man pointed out and smiled.
"Sir? I-I-Is that you? Is that really you", Michael stuttered.
He couldn't believe his good fortune.
"Yes my boy, I am Abraham Lincoln the President of United States."
"Thank you God", Michael thanked and a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye.
"Don't take this to a habit, there are far more easier ways to get my attention than to throw yourself on the way of a bullet which was meant for me", President Lincoln advised Michael.
Michael wasn't able to speak from his tears.
"Now where is your father's letter?"
