Chapter 6: Double Trouble
Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Sunday, February 16, 1913.
Getting Dean and Sam sufficiently presentable for the Waldorf-Astoria wasn't the most pressing item on Neal's list, but the doorman probably wouldn't let them enter the hotel without a little sprucing up. The guestrooms were equipped with a long list of regulations. They included the prohibition of any guests of a less savory nature.
Luckily, he and Henry were both wearing overcoats. Neal gave his to Sam. It was a little short but covered up most of his clothes. With the addition of Neal's homburg, Sam would pass a cursory inspection. Dean's makeover was trivial since he and Henry were the same height. When they rode the elevator up, Neal and Henry were careful to stand in front. They kept the bellhop distracted with banter so he wouldn't pay much attention to the two men behind them.
They met in Henry and Chloe's room—now Dean and Chloe's room. Neal reluctantly gave up on eating in the dining room. Room service was more appropriate for the planning session ahead and the Winchesters' wardrobes wouldn't be an issue. While Neal ordered the meals, Henry went downstairs and reserved a room for himself and Sam. Tomorrow, they'd need to revisit their Fifth Avenue bank.
Over prime beef steaks as designed by Oscar of the Waldorf—and Neal promised himself to get his cookbook when they returned to the present—they caught each other up on the events of the past few days.
Dean and Sam readily agreed that they needed to prevent Astrena from victimizing Gleizes, but now the group had a second challenge. Dean didn't want to leave before they'd somehow rid the Bowery of Mickey Emerson. In principle, Neal would like to help, but taking down the head of an extortion racket?
Henry, however, was all for it. "This has to be the connection to June's mansion," he said. "That's been puzzling me ever since I heard about the message Sam had carved. How did you get in? Was there another reason for you being at the mansion? This must be it."
"I bet you're right," Dean said. "Neal and Mozzie told us about the old smuggling tunnel leading from the basement to the Hudson River. That could have been part of a con."
Henry picked up his slice of Red Velvet cake, one of the many dishes Oscar was famous for. "Give me a few minutes to work on it. I'll let you know if I need a second slice of cake." He went over to sit on the far bed, turning his back to them.
"Is he serious?" Sam murmured.
"Absolutely," Neal said. "And whatever he comes up with will be brilliant."
"Should we go to the other room so we won't disturb him?" Chloe asked.
"Don't," Henry called out. "Background chatter helps my thought process."
"You haven't told us how you'll tackle the Astrena problem," Sam said.
"That's slated for tomorrow," Neal said. "I plan to camp out at the Armory Show. I brought a sketchpad from home and clothes suitable for a student. Janet found a drawing of a university student from the 1910s. He wore a turtleneck, loose trousers, a tweed jacket, and a newsboy cap. Astrena's bound to be at the show since tomorrow is the opening day. I plan to impress her by sketching some of Picasso's surrealist works from the 1930s. She won't have seen anything like them."
Dean frowned. "Okay, so she meets you and gets glassy-eyed with hunger. Let's assume she even invites you to her lair. I know you're good, but how will you manage to snip the orchid bloom Chloe needs for her potion?"
"That's where we come in," Chloe said. "Sara and I are going to sneak into her house while she's ogling Neal at the art show. I'll take the bloom then."
The worry lines deepened on Sam's face. "How will you find out where she lives?"
"We already know, thanks to Sara," Chloe said smugly.
"I'm in the dark, too," Neal said. "How'd you manage it?"
"When you and Henry went down to the Bowery, Chloe and I hit the streets," Sara said. "We initially intended to simply soak up the sights and sounds of the city, but then we passed a florist shop. I assumed Astrena is known to at least a couple of florists. Perhaps she buys supplies from one of them."
"Sara's idea was brilliant," Chloe interjected. "Astrena likely belongs to an orchid society. Members trade plants. It's the best way of obtaining rare orchids, and I'm sure she's constantly seeking new varieties."
"One shop led to another," Sara continued. "Eventually we found a florist on Madison Avenue who told us about an orchidist living on Lexington Avenue and Thirty-eighth Street. That's only a few blocks from here. Her name is Penelope Morris. She's a wealthy widow."
Neal rolled his eyes. "That sounds like Astrena."
Sara nodded. "Not only that, her house is a showpiece. The florist described it as a limestone castle, complete with a turret. Doesn't that remind you of the Mystery Mansion?"
"A goddess in her castle," Sam agreed and turned to Neal. "Are you familiar with any building matching that description?"
"No, but many of the mansions from the Gilded Age were demolished to make way for office buildings. Unless Astrena changed her appearance, she probably only stayed at one location for ten to twenty years."
"And there's more," Chloe added. "The florist mentioned she has a sister who's also an expert on orchids. Her name is Miriam."
"I wonder which sister the bitch is," Dean said. "She could be Alcy or Gemma or someone else we don't know about. Chloe, did you bring any banishing oil?"
"No. Bobby thought we should hold off using it on Astrena. There'd be too many repercussions to our timeline if we got rid of her now."
"Yeah, I can see his point," Sam agreed. "If it hadn't been for Astrena, I wouldn't have met Maia."
"And Chloe and I might not have hooked up," Dean agreed.
Henry stood up. "Is there any cake left?"
"The plan came together?" Neal asked, retrieving the extra slice he'd already ordered for him.
"Yep, we're going to take advantage of our strengths." Henry ticked them off on his fingers. "Our con expertise, our knowledge of June's mansion, and the fact we have twins in our crew. I'm naming this con Double Trouble."
Neal liked the details, especially its simplicity. They were all on the clock even though they'd just arrived this afternoon. In less than three days, they'd need to leave whether or not their mission had succeeded.
#
Sam was looking forward to his first good sleep since he'd arrived in Manhattan. He and Henry headed to their room after everyone reviewed their parts in the upcoming con. He couldn't wait for his first decent bath since arriving in the past. His earlier moodiness had been replaced by genuine optimism that somehow everything would work out.
"You can have the bathroom," Henry said. "I'm going downstairs to the lounge to soak up the local scene."
"You should take the key. I'll probably be asleep as soon as I hit the pillow."
Henry looked at him thoughtfully. "Yeah, I don't imagine a flophouse makes for restful nights."
Sam latched onto the comment gratefully. "I was starting to name the roaches," he said, making a lame joke out of it. He'd seen his face in the dresser mirror. He knew he looked exhausted, but thankfully Henry didn't comment on it.
The bathtub was designed for someone much shorter but the water was hot and the soap had a fresh scent. He dried off, pulled on the long johns he'd gotten at a thrift store, and flopped on the bed on his stomach to let his hair dry.
A man leans over a baby. His eyes glow yellow. "Sammy, Sammy, you can't be comfortable like that. I'll roll you over on your back."
Sam watches helplessly from a corner of the room as the demon lifts the baby and gently places him on his back. There's nothing he can do to help. He knows where he is. It's his old room in Kansas. Dean's downstairs playing Mouse Trap. Sam tries to call out to him but Dean doesn't answer. Sam's a ghost. No one can hear him.
"Don't worry, Sammy. I won't hurt you. You're my favorite." The demon slices his wrist with his fingernail. Holding it over the baby's throat, he drips one drop of blood into his open mouth, then another, then another.
Sam screams.
"Hey, Sam, wake up. It's just a nightmare."
Sam opened his eyes to see Dean's face—no, Henry's face over him. He looked around dazedly. He was in a hotel room. No sign of the demon. But he'd never felt him so close. The demon was here. He was watching him.
"Relax, Sam. You're fine. No one's being threatened."
Yes, you are. But Henry looked so concerned, Sam wanted to reassure him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you. I'm fine now." Sam propped himself up on his elbows and gave a slow exhale. "Some roommate I make. I should sleep in the bathroom."
"Nothing doing. You didn't wake me up. I just got back. Do you want to talk about it? Nightmares are something I've had a lot of experience with. It might help."
"There's no point," Sam said.
"It was Azazel," Henry said quietly, not framing it as a question.
Sam nodded. "I thought I'd escape from him here, but the nightmares are getting worse. Did I make much of a racket?"
Henry shook his head. "Your mouth was open in a silent scream when I entered the room. No one heard you."
"Please don't tell anyone. They have enough to worry about. It was just a nightmare." If Sam said it often enough, he might believe it.
#
The next day, they ate breakfast in their rooms before scattering. Neal and Henry spent a productive hour among the commuters on Wall Street. Their wallets were now sufficiently padded for a couple of days. Any extra cash they'd give to Liam and Doris.
When Neal took off for the Armory, Henry accompanied Dean and Sam on a shopping expedition. The brothers would need to look the part of prosperous New Yorkers. Their assignment was to case out June's mansion to find out if there was any time the residents would be less likely to be home. It was the sort of job that Dean assured them they'd often done in the past. The difference was that back then they were wanting to have a clear shot at whatever supernatural creatures had invaded the premises.
Dean and Sam would also try to find the opening of the tunnel that led to the mansion. After learning about it from June, Neal had searched in vain for its terminus in Riverside Park. He assumed it had been covered over during a landscaping project at the park. If Dean and Sam couldn't find it, they'd need to readjust the con.
While they were busy in Riverside Park, Henry planned to wear Dean's old clothes and visit The Blue Parrot. By passing himself off as Dean, he hoped to smooth talk Liam into telling him where Mickey Emerson hung out.
Promptly at ten o'clock, Neal was in line for the doors to open at the Armory Show. Sara and Chloe stayed several yards behind him.
He realized he'd have a difficult time focusing on the con when he longed to mingle with the art enthusiasts. The building was built in the Beaux-Arts style. The vast space normally housed the National Guard. Neal intended to sketch in a sculpture area where fewer scandalous works attracted the crowd's attention. Only a couple of others had brought sketchpads.
He'd already researched that none of the artists whose works were present on the walls were in attendance that day. If Astrena wanted to speak with an artist, he was the most likely choice.
He was wearing his Matthew St. John disguise, the blond-haired scruffy look fit well with the image he wanted to project. None of the group could take a chance on Astrena recognizing them. Chloe and Sara both had blonde wigs provided by Janet. The elaborately coiffed buns were typical of the period. Their hair coupled with their period clothes and carefully applied makeup should make them unrecognizable even if Astrena engaged in time travel too—and no one knew she didn't.
Neal positioned himself on a bench and began sketching one of the nude sculptures. He'd already drawn several Picassos on previous pages. He'd been careful to change some of the details. It wouldn't do for Astrena to think in later years that Picasso had plagiarized Matthew St. John's works.
About an hour into drawing, he heard a familiar honeyed contralto voice behind him. "Do you mind if I watch you?"
Neal swiveled to face her. "I'm honored," he said, lowering his voice and adding a soft Southern drawl. Astrena looked just like she had in their timeline. Her blonde hair was swept off her face. She wore a fur stole draped over her shoulders. And next to her was Maia's twin. Neal's heart skipped a beat. Astrena introduced her as her sister Miriam. Were Miriam and Maia one and the same?
#
"Chloe, we have to leave," Sara urged as soon as she saw Astrena and Maia sit down next to Neal. "They may not talk with him for long."
"But . . . Maia? Tell me this is some horrible nightmare," Chloe pleaded as Sara steered her away. "I refuse to believe Maia is Astrena's sister. You're her friend too. This must be a doppelganger. After all, Dean and Henry look alike. This could be something similar."
"You could be right," Sara agreed as she continued to guide Chloe away. For the moment, no harm in Chloe assuming that was true although Sara suspected otherwise. Maia claimed that she didn't realize her sister Electra was possessed by Astrena. But how was that possible? Astrena called herself Penelope but she looked identical. Had Maia's sister Electra ever existed?
Their questions would have to wait till they returned. Sara felt for Chloe. She'd gone from the high of reuniting with Dean and Sam to the horrific realization that her best friend was most likely one of Astrena's sisters.
Sara stopped herself. Maia was also the one who had helped Chloe sever Neal and Sam's link to Astrena. Surely not the action of one of Astrena's sisters. Sara had never believed in doppelgangers, but she might need to start.
When they arrived at Astrena's mansion, Sara put her quandary on hold. They had a mission to accomplish—sneak in, steal a soul-orchid, and leave before being spotted. Astrena and Maia were both away, but a mansion that size undoubtedly had servants. She already had her excuses ready.
She paused to check with Chloe before using the door knocker. "Are you ready? You shouldn't have to speak."
Chloe nodded jerkily. "I need to have something else to focus on."
Sara nodded and rapped the mahogany door with the large brass knocker. If no one answered, they could sneak in. Otherwise, she was prepared to say they were passing the house when Chloe became faint. Sara would ask for a glass of water and somehow keep the staff busy while Chloe snuck into the grow room. Luckily, no one answered the door. After waiting a couple more minutes, Sara picked the lock.
The Gothic revival mansion reminded her of the Mystery Mansion. She estimated it was built in the late 1880s. It had exquisitely carved wood paneling and stained-glass windows, although no angels. The stained-glass panels in the Mystery Mansion must have been a later acquisition.
She and Chloe dashed up the stairs in search of the grow room. Where was the housekeeper? Had she been given the morning off or was she simply running errands? If she returned, Sara could use the same excuse, only this time she'd claim the front door had been left ajar. Choe would be stretched out on a fainting couch. The salon undoubtedly had one. They were popular in the nineteenth century. With one side of the back raised for comfortable reclining, they looked ideally suited for someone having a weak spell.
Or for a goddess drawing blood.
Would Astrena bring Neal back to her house and have him lounge on a fainting couch? An image flashed through Sara's mind of Neal sprawled on crimson velvet, his eyes glazed, while Astrena lapped blood from his throat.
"Here's the room!" Chloe called out in a whisper as Sara's stomach twisted into a knot. Tearing herself free from the gruesome scenario, she raced toward Chloe at the end of the hallway.
The grow room was at the back of the house with large windows facing east and north. The profusion of orchids was not quite as large as in the Mystery Mansion, but Chloe would still be challenged to find the correct blood-red blooms.
"I'll keep a lookout downstairs," Sara offered. "We need to leave as quickly as possible."
"I know," Chloe said wistfully, gazing at the orchids. "She may have some varieties that we don't know about. Perhaps in a return trip . . ." She looked at Sara and winced. "Right, focus on the current need."
#
Neal found the women in Dean and Chloe's room when he returned to the hotel. Astrena and Maia—or Penelope and Miriam as they called themselves—had taken him to lunch.
"If I didn't know better, I'd believe they were simply two art connoisseurs," Neal admitted. "We discussed the art scene in Paris. They provided fascinating insights."
"How did Maia act?" Chloe asked. "I'm still holding out hope she's either a doppelganger or somehow being held enthralled and not responsible."
"There's evidence to support your theory," Neal said. "She was very submissive and looked to Astrena for validation of almost everything she said."
"Can we delay telling Dean and Sam?" Chloe pleaded. "Maia's presence doesn't change our con. The brothers are already stressing about Azazel. For the moment, they can't do anything about Maia."
"We can hold off for a little while, but Sam in particular needs to be told as quickly as possible," Sara cautioned. "He probably has insights about Maia the rest of us don't."
Neal agreed with Sara. During periods of intimacy, Maia may have revealed something about her nature. At the time, Sam could have ignored it, simply associating it with the heat of the moment.
"We need to speak with Crowley," Chloe declared, looking grimly resolute. "He knew Astrena. He knew Maia before any of us, and he's also attached to her. We've never understood why. I'm convinced Maia isn't the same person. Crowley may have the answer."
Neal didn't debate the point. Sam and Dean wouldn't be back till the evening. Chloe might change her mind once she met with them. In the meantime, she had a potion to make. This afternoon she'd simmer the potion over a candle burner till it was ready. Neal planned to spend the afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Astrena was meeting him there. He wasn't sure if Maia was too, but both had invited him to dinner at Delmonico's. When he returned to the hotel to change for the evening, he'd retrieve the potion then slip it into their drinks. The artists at the Armory Show would then be safe.
His thoughts turned to Henry. He was probably at his meeting with Mickey Emerson. Selling the extortionist on Double Trouble could be his toughest challenge to date.
#
"This is a sweet deal and you know it," Henry asserted. He'd been meeting with Mickey for close to an hour in his office in a Bowery pawnshop. He'd introduced himself as Dean, claiming he and his brother had come to New York to make a killing with their cousin Clyde.
Henry was pinch-hitting since more acting was involved. Dean freely admitted that sweet-talking a mark wasn't his strength.
Mickey Rat-face Emerson was what Henry preferred calling him, and the guy's sharp features did bear a resemblance to the rodent. He might not even mind the name. Mickey Mouse wouldn't be created for decades.
The Double Trouble con relied on Rat-face believing that Clyde Schinasi, who would be played by Dean, was newly arrived from overseeing operations in Turkey. He'd told his cousin Dean about the lucrative tobacco smuggling operation his uncle Morris Schinasi ran. Clyde believed it could also be used to smuggle opium, but they needed a partner. Dean and his brother Sam had been keeping a low profile in the Bowery until, Bingo, Mickey showed up. Dean heard Liam gripe about Mickey and decided he'd be perfect for the job.
"Uncle Morris has been using the tunnel exclusively for tobacco," Henry said. "He's got a thing against illicit drugs, but Clyde, Sam, and I don't have the same problem. Clyde smooth-talked Uncle Morris into letting him run the smuggling operation. Once Clyde meets you, we'll be in business."
Rat-face narrowed his eyes. "This is quite a tale you cooked up. How do you intend to prove it?"
"Simple. You come with me tomorrow to the mansion. You can meet my cousin. He'll give you a tour, show you the tunnel. We'll discuss terms then."
Rat-face still wasn't sold, but he had nothing to lose, and Henry's main objective was already reached. He'd gotten a feel for the office, spotted the safe, and noted the back door opening into an alley. While Henry and Dean kept Rat-face occupied at the mansion, Neal would break into the office and search the safe. Sara, Chloe, and Sam would stage a distraction in the pawnshop to keep the employees from noticing anything.
Dean and Sam had discovered during their morning reconnaissance that the Schinasis would be out tomorrow while the mansion was being prepared for a tenth wedding anniversary party. The event explained why Sam had carved the date onto the wall stud. He was trying to alert them that the house would be accessible. The message was reassuring because it demonstrated the plan had succeeded. Now all they had to do was to keep from messing up this time. Henry was used to thinking in terms of 3-D chess, but the pitfalls of adding a fourth dimension for time would make even a Vulcan's head spin.
He'd gone by the Bureau of Investigation before meeting with Emerson. There he'd convinced them he was a Pinkerton detective from Baltimore. Dean and Sam had warned him that the NYPD was in Mickey's pocket but Henry was playing a hunch that the early forerunner to the FBI had its ethics intact. Neal had learned about them in an orientation course he took when he joined the Bureau. The New York office in 1913 was small but had an excellent reputation. Peter took it as a point of personal pride that they worked a large number of white-collar crimes in those early years. From the sound of it, the early Bureau boss, William Offley, had a lot in common with Peter. Henry hoped to deliver a favorable report about him when they returned to the present.
Notes: The sketch Janet found of a student from the 1910s is on my Pinterest board along with other illustrations of clothes from the period. The armory on Lexington Avenue where the art show was held still exists. There are photos of it and the Armory Show on the Pinterest board.
