Author's Note: I considered waiting to post these next couple of chapters until I had the timeline in "Two Sides of the Same Coin" caught up with this one, but then I realized that not all of you are reading both stories, and it didn't seem fair to delay any longer. After all, I've had a few of these chapters done for quite some time.


May 1779

It had only been a week since John Andre's hanging and since Benedict Arnold had been in York City, and, already, General Arnold was proving to be a nuisance.

Much to her surprise, when she was forced to face Arnold that day at the coffeehouse, his expression was blank. When he eyed her, there wasn't the faintest look of recognition.

Surely, he can't be that thick. She told herself.

But he soon proved that he was.

The British had not granted him Andre's old position as head of intelligence. Instead, he was placed in charge of his own regiment, called the American Legion. Their mission was to weed out spies working against the British.

"His official title is Spyhunter General."

Molly snorted in amusement and struggled to suppress more laughter when Robert told her. The title was ridiculous enough. But what made the entire deal even more humorous was how self-unaware the General had proven himself. The man was terrible with names.

Whenever he visited the coffeehouse, he always called Robert "Townsends" or "Townsley". As for Molly herself, she also experienced his errors firsthand. She was forced to introduce herself, and she was forced to use her real name. But her name still didn't ring any bells. She suspected that Arnold had been one of the officers who assumed she and Ben were already married. "Ms. Strange" and "Ms. Song" were two of his favorite mispronunciations when they interacted.

But, despite the man's incompetence, it didn't change the fact that York City was now far more dangerous for the ring. And that was one of the reasons why she was leaving. She had already corresponded with Anna. She had already spoken to her employer, and she was set to resign her position within the next week. Or at least that was the plan.

Three days before she was set to leave, Robert came to visit her at the Lees' Tavern. She was at the bar wiping down mugs and refilling pitchers. He ordered a drink out of politeness, but she knew he wouldn't touch it. He never drank.

"When you leave the city, I need you to procure me more agent and reagent."

He kept his voice low and his tone casual as he pretended to sip at the ale. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"That supply was supposed to last you for years. What happened to yours?" she asked.

"I had a moment of panic." He admitted. "I ran into your old friend, Mr. Simcoe."

She fumbled, spilling ale down the front of her dress, and nearly dropped the entire pitcher in her hands. She took a few seconds to regain her composure and leaned in closer to him.

"What? He's here? In the city?" she whispered; her voice strained.

"Yes."

She put a hand to her head and rubbed her temples briefly. She hadn't thought about Simcoe in several months. She assumed he would still be stationed in the country, in Setauket. That's why she couldn't go home, after all. But now that he was here, that changed everything.

"Why? What does he want? What did he say?" she asked frantically.

"He inquired after your health." Robert sounded panicked now, too. It was only because of her reaction. He didn't expect such an anxious reaction.

"And, what did you tell him?" He looked away for a moment and she feared the worst. "You didn't tell him I worked here, did you?"

"I had to." He jumped in before she could interrupt him. "Rivington was listening to everything I said. If I didn't, it would bring suspicion upon both of us."

"Robert!" she scolded through clenched teeth. She wasn't angry, she was genuinely distressed.

"I apologize, but I didn't know what else to do."

"Well, now I can't leave the city."

His face fell. He wasn't expecting to hear that.

"Why not?"

"I've told my employer, Mr. Lee, that I wanted to move out of York City to be with relatives. But Simcoe knows everything about my family from when we knew each other in Setauket. He knows that my brother is actively working with the rebels." She scoffed, "As for my sister-in-law, he knows he fled Setauket a year ago. Surely he suspects that she fled to be with the rebels." She shook her head, still in disbelief, "If he knows I'm leaving–"

He cut her off, "I know. I understand. That's why I came to warn you. Is there any way you can flee now?"

She shook her head, "I won't flee, Robert. If I do so now, then I'll practically announce my guilt. And that would only lead them back to you."

He was the one shaking his head now. He didn't believe it was that obvious. If she fled now, it would not be Robert's fault that she was missing. The blame would only be on her. "There is a solution."

"There isn't though." She decided. "It's not your fault. It's mine. When I chose to stay behind, during Thanksgiving, it was for a selfish reason. I was only thinking of myself. Of feeling superior to Abraham. I never even considered what my presence here could mean for you, for myself, for all of us–"

"Wait. Listen to me–"

"I have. And I promise, I'll find a way to send word to Anna, to send you more ink."

With that, she picked up a pitcher and began making a round around the tavern, refilling mugs.

Robert stood there, struggling to remain composed. He, too, couldn't believe what was happening. Molly would leave. She could do so in a way that would lead to little or no suspicion upon Robert himself. And there she was, unwilling to listen. Too stubborn to listen. So certain she was right.

Robert understood why she was fearful. He was fearful too. But what else could he do? He couldn't force her to leave. She would have to do so herself.

He lifted his mug to his lips, and this time he actually drank the ale. He never liked the taste of ale much, but suddenly, he was beginning to understand what Molly meant when she said she "needed a drink". He just prayed she would change her mind, before it actually was too late to leave the city.

The thing was, Molly didn't heed Robert's warning. She told Mr. Lee of her change of plans, and she wrote to Anna explaining how it was no longer safe for her to leave the city.

I'll be fine. She kept telling herself. Just a little hiccup. I'll be able to arrange to leave the city soon. As soon as I know that Robert won't be questioned when I flee.

And then, she waited.


Simcoe visited the tavern the day after she was originally set to leave the city. That detail made her question whether she had made the right decision.

"Ms. Strong."

She tensed at the familiar voice and finished filling the mug in front of her. She held her breath as she turned to look at who the voice belonged to. There by the bar was stood John Graves Simcoe.

"Captain." She greeted, walking back to the bar.

"It's Lieutenant Colonel now, actually."

She struggled not to roll her eyes. Of course it is.

"I received a promotion." He added.

"Well, congratulations are in order then." She feigned a smile. "First drink, on the house." She offered.

"Thank you, Ms. Strong. I appreciate your kindness."

She stepped back behind the bar and quickly poured him a drink.

"I must say, it gave me peace to know you were in the city, and not in Setauket. After all that has transpired there." He said.

She paused briefly. She wasn't sure what that meant, but his tone was condescending. She remembered Mary's letter. She had said that Simcoe was still searching for spies, for Robert Rogers, in Setauket. And he had proven himself to be more of a menace than anything else.

"I admit, I have had little contact with Mary recently. I trust she is in good health." Molly tried to keep her tone casual. But she was feeling the familiar anxiety she used to feel whenever she spoke to Simcoe at Strong Tavern. She had forgotten how much she hated the feeling.

I should've cut my losses and left while I still could. She thought fleetingly.

"I ran into your friend, Mr. Townsend." Simcoe said next. "He's still a skittish man, I see."

"He's just shy. Likes to keep to himself." She shrugged, "Can't say I blame him. It's been nice, working here, on my own. Away from the gossip back home."

"Have you worked at this tavern your entire time in the city?"

Shit. There was no way she could make excuses for not being in the city for a whole year. She just had to hope their conversation won't become that detailed.

"Um, I worked at Rivington's Coffeehouse for a short time. Actually, that's how Robert and I met."

Stop talking, stop talking, she immediately scolded herself.

"Hm. That explains it."

He drank more.

"Will you be in the city long?" she stammered.

"Yes. My men and I are actually stationed in upstate New York. But we have orders to come to the city, to help General Arnold with his spyhunting." He smirked, and the expression sent shivers up Molly's spine. "Have you met the General? The rebel turncoat?"

"I have, actually."

"A foolish man, but a dedicated one as well."

Molly continued to work, and Simcoe took an agonizingly slow amount of time to finish his drink. When he finally left, he said his goodbyes, and then Molly snuck away to the back room behind the bar. Her excuse was to grab more ale from the storage room.

But as soon as she was back there alone, she closed the door and slid down to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. She was hyperventilating now, and she was nauseous, and she had broken out into a cold sweat, and she suddenly felt as it the room was too small, and her clothes were too tight. She was having a panic attack.

She sat there for several minutes, trying to compose herself.

I'm so stupid. She thought. Robert was right. He's always right. Why didn't I leave while I still had the chance? If I leave now, Simcoe will know of my guilt.


The next day, Molly was down at the wharf, overseeing a delivery of whiskey. She had received a letter from Hewlett that morning.

He had been distant since his reunion with Anna, and she was sure he felt embarrassed about everything that had happened. In his letter, Hewlett explained that his time in York City had come to an end. By time she received the letter, he was already onboard a ship on his way home to England.

She did feel a little sad that they had parted ways to suddenly. Truth was, she did enjoy his company. But she shook off the feeling. Now, that was merely another loose end that had been tied up. She didn't need to make excuses to him about why she might leave the city. She was half lost in her thoughts, half focusing on the delivery, when she heard someone say her name.

"Molly?"

She turned to address the speaker, and her mouth fell agape.

"Jor-" she corrected herself. "Akinbode?"

She couldn't believe it, but it was him. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and civilian clothes. He somehow looked younger. She had only ever seen him in his work clothes back at Strong Manor, and then in his Queen's Rangers uniform.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, abandoning her work to face him.

"I could ask you the same question."

She lowered her voice, "Last I heard, you were accused of deserting the Queen's Rangers."

"Mmhmm, that's exactly what I did. I've been in Canada, setting up a place there." He looked around briefly. "You know where Abigail is?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew then that Abigail had lied to her. She inquired after Akinbode just to ensure that he hadn't been captured. But she must have known just as well that he had fled to Canada. Molly suddenly felt played. They were on the same side, but Abigail had still managed to manipulate her.

"No. I haven't seen her in months. Or Cicero, for that matter."

"I went to see her. That Andre's place. The lady working there said that they had crossed lines, that they're in rebel territory now." He was almost whispering now. "So, I need to know, where is your rebel camp?"

"W-What?" she stuttered.

"Don't be so coy. I know you're a spy… or something."

Her mouth was completely agape now. She didn't know what to say, what to do. Should I run?

"Don't blame me. You should be more careful what you share with Abigail's boy."

She swore aloud.

Cicero! Damn him! I knew it was trouble sharing a room with him. I guarantee he read through my codebook, my letters, everything back in Setauket.

"How much do you know?" she asked.

"Only as much as he told me. But I don't care about that. I'm just looking for Abby and the boy."

As much as she didn't like it, she was going to have to trust him.

"I don't know where the army is either. Last I was there, the camp was in Middlebrook, New Jersey. But they've moved on since then. I don't know where. I've been stuck in the city for the last couple of months." She added quickly, "It's not safe for you here either. Simcoe's here."

It was Akinbode's turn to look surprised.

"The Rangers are stationed in the city now." She explained.

He exhaled sharply, "Well, then I guess we both better be careful." He cleared his throat. "And I guess we're both stuck in the city… till we hear more."

She nodded slowly. As strange as the entire encounter was, one thing was clear: Molly and Akinbode had just formed an alliance.