April 14, 1865
Ford's Theater
Washington, D.C.
Margaret stood in the shadows of the most popular theater in the nation's capital.
The city around her, the capital of this great country, was in full celebration mode. The war had only ended a couple of days prior, with General Lee's surrender at the head of the Appomattox River in Virginia. Men danced in the streets, rowdy and drunk with power of the Federal Army. They shouted angry taunts at the former Confederates, declaring that no one could outdo the 'whole Federal Army, by God!'. With the army now heading back home, people turned their eyes from the battlefields to the Halls of Congress and waited for a plan to make this country whole once more. No one knew what President Lincoln's plan would be to make sure that another uprising didn't happen again, but the general consensus was that it whatever it would be, it would be far too weak and far too forgiving.
Margaret knew that there would be no way that the South would be forgiven in the records of history. But those who would come after her would not know about the Templar's involvement.
Or the Assassins.
Which was why she was at Ford's Theater as people poured in for the opening of 'Our American Cousin'.
The Assassins had gotten word that there was a plot to assassinate several members of the President's cabinet. Mentor Kellan suggested that they shouldn't put too much stock into the rumors, stating that most of the rumors could be seen as empty threats from the losing side of the war. Everyone was put on a stand down order, and Margaret should've obeyed like a good little soldier. But deep inside, Margaret had suspected that something would happen, so, not following the orders imposed on her, she traveled to D.C. and took up the mantle of secret protector for the President and his family following the surrender of Lee.
She watched, looking all the world like a part of the shadows, as the President and his wife lumbered into the theater. Much to her dismay, Margaret couldn't look away from the sight of the President, who was a good bit over six-feet tall. He towered over the regular people, but yet looked very much like a gentle giant that he was told to be. Latched onto his arms, a woman of soft beauty, his wife, smiled at those who greeted them.
Targets in sight, Margaret melted out of the shadow and melded into the crowd.
No one would see her as she weaved through the people that pushed forward.
No one would recall her as she placed herself behind the President, his wife, and entourage as they moved towards their box.
Margaret didn't know where she would situate herself when the group took their seats for the show. She would need to find a way to place herself in a position where she could easily throw herself in the defense of the President if the need arose.
She nestled herself in a darkened corner. It didn't give her a close enough position she wanted, but it did give her a place where she could view the entire hallway without being seen.
From her position, Margaret watched the house lights dim down as the actors took the stage and the play began.
Later in her life, Margaret's biggest shame in that moment was that she became too relaxed as the play went on and nothing happened.
Maybe I'm overreacting, she thought in those long hours standing in the darkened corridor. Maybe the South was indeed defeated for good. They wouldn't dare ignite another war after all that they lost and what little they had left.
She began to shake her head, debating whether or not she was just becoming paranoid.
After all, there could never be someone so stupid or so brash as to assassinate Lincoln, a president of all people.
How wrong she would become in the next few seconds.
After the incident on the battlefield of Gettysburg, Margaret's hearing was on its way out. It was probably that reason that she didn't hear the footsteps on the carpeted floor until it was too late.
Instincts taking over, Margaret leapt out, pushing down her surprise at the familiar face that greeted her. John Booth, an actor and a former member of the Assassins. Rumors had it that the man had fled from the Assassins and from the North with no reason or explanation. Margaret saw him as a surrogate son, but seeing him with a pistol and a wild look in his eye, changed that view and turned him into an enemy. She immediately saw what he was planning on doing.
"Don't do it, John." She whispered.
The play was still going on, the President naively unaware the danger that awaited him only a few steps behind him.
John didn't say anything. Instead, he launched forward, tackling her to the ground. Margaret, becoming aged as she was, was still able to keep John from going forward with his plan. She managed to kick the weapon away as the two grappled. John pulled out a knife, which Margaret only just managed to keep him from stabbing her in the eye and into her brain.
John was much younger and much stronger than she was, so it was only a miracle that she stayed alive. Unfortunately, the man was smart.
When the knife was twisted out of his hand, John reared his hand back and hit her square in the face. Margaret's vision exploded in white and black spots as John scrambled to his feet and for his weapon.
She wouldn't know why he didn't finish her off then.
She was defenseless and wounded, her nose no doubt broken and bruised as blood ran down into her face.
Margaret would realize later that John had only one shot. And if he shot her, he would lose the opportunity of surprise. He would be caught and subdued before he could turn his pistol to Lincoln.
But as Margaret struggled to her feet, she realized that she was too late.
A gunshot rang out loud and clear, followed quickly by a horrified scream and gasps from the audience. Adrenaline spurred her on as she struggled to her feet, pushing past the Union soldiers that rushed forward. She saw the horrid sight of the President slumped forward in his seat, a bullet hole in his head gushing blood. Mrs. Lincoln was sobbing, kneeling next to her wounded husband. Margaret pushed past the two, sight landing on John, who had launched himself from the booth and onto the stage, shouting with all he could, 'SIC SEMPER TYRANNUS!' before scuttling off.
The theater exploded in chaos.
Union troops tried to push through the panicked crowds as they attempted to flee. Margaret took point as she leapt from the booth, landing easily as a jungle cat and immediately chased after Booth.
She burst out onto an alleyway that was behind the theater, only seconds behind the murderer. He had taken a horse and was galloping away.
The Union troops that were behind her burst through the door five seconds after she threw a curse after Booth. Margaret pointed towards the man that was leaving. Her eyes met a soldier she met on the field of battle in Gettysburg and immediately he snapped to attention.
"I believe he's going to flee the capital." She told them hurriedly. There was a moment of confusion as they probably mentally asked who she was, before realizing the air of the authority she held and snapped to attention. "Have the calvary follow him with all due haste."
It was like she was a general as the men all snapped into action with purpose. Margaret moved back out onto the main street right when men were carefully bringing Lincoln's body to a house right across the street. Already, there was wailing in the streets as a many women and men gathered around to watch was going on. Many women were covering their mouths in shock and Margaret watched as the men removed their hats and some went as so far to clutch their fists.
"Mrs. Lealan!"
Margaret turned around, a very small sliver of joy slinking into her heart when she saw another soldier, one she met in Gettysburg rush forward.
"Joshua!" She caught the man's worried expression. "What's happened?"
"The Secretary of State has been hurt!"
"What?!"
"It was a plot! A coup, even!"
"Well, of course it was!" she shouted, gesturing to the small crowd that had gathered outside where the President had been taken. There was a voice calling for a doctor. Margaret took a breath, trying to stay as calm as possible. "Who else has been targeted?"
"No one. We caught one of the conspirators about to attack the Vice President, but he's okay."
"Take the Vice President to a safe place, immediately! I want to talk to the conspirator."
"Maggy, General O'Beirne requests that you join him for the manhunt." The words stopped her right in her tracks. "You're the best tracker I know. And I know you won't let this son of a bitch get away with this. I'm sorry."
"No. You're right." She sighed. Picking up a fallen leaflet of the play, Margaret quickly scribbled down a coded message for the head of the D.C. Assassins. She handed it to the young soldier. "Take this to Washington Monument and give this to the man that sits on the first bench. Tell him that this is coming from Margaret Lealan and it should be taken to the Head of the Assassins immediately! Go. Now!"
Joshua snatched the message and charged off. Margaret sighed tiredly before heading off towards the stables. She grabbed a cream mare and charged off after the men who had gone off after John. She had barely made it as the men were loading up boats to cross the Potomac. Two privates barred her way by crossing their rifles.
"General O'Berine!" she called. The man in question turned toward her, his ever-stoic expression softening only a bit. His motioned for the men to stand down. Margaret dismounted and after sending her mare off, walked up to the general, her face stoically watching the currents of the Potomac rush past. "What do we have?"
"We know of at least three that got away." General O'Berine stated. "We have reason to believe they are attempting to head into the south and disappear. If they do that, they may start another rebellion."
"I refuse to let that happen." She glanced toward the man who knew her husband. "You will let me go ahead and track him. I'll leave clues for you to follow, but your calvary will only slow me down."
"Very well." He gestured to a soldier to get her a singular boat. "How will we know what your mark is?"
Margaret glanced towards the older man. "You'll know."
As she got situated in boat and was about to start rowing, Margaret froze when General O'Berine called after, "Promise me you'll let me have the final kill."
Margaret glanced towards the man with eyes hooded with anger. She set her jaw. "I'm sorry, General. I'm afraid that the honor of slaying John Wilks Booth belongs to me."
And with that she started to row.
The biggest manhunt in the history of the country began.