If only Meade had listened; his own advice had been a reflection of Lincoln's.

"I can end this war," Dan whispered, as if to himself, taking a sip of brandy and setting it back down.

He looked back up at Tweed and the others.

"I've watched the professionals mismanage this for two long years. They don't understand volunteers. I do, for I am one of them."

"But you are not in command," Tweed replied.

"I can be."

"How?"

"I want Meade to be taken care of by the Committee on the Conduct of the War."

"Good God, man, Meade is dead. Leave it rest," Seymour gasped.

"No. His memory still lingers. John Sedgwick is angling for that job, blaming me for his failure. Get your people in Congress to take down Meade before the committee and Sedgwick is hung with the blame as well."

"You forget about Grant," Tweed said. "Remember, he commands the armies."

"He's new, just a day at it. If the word comes from the White House that I now command the Army of the Potomac, he'll accept it He can't put his own people in yet"

"What Army of the Potomac?" Seymour asked sadly.

"It's still out there," Dan said heatedly. "Most of my corps is still intact. That's going to be the heart of it. I want that appointment confirmed before Grant gets east. I also want sufficient reinforcements assigned to me, the troops coming up from Charleston, Burnside's Ninth Corps; I can bring the number back up to sixty thousand in a fortnight and have the army ready to fight within the month. Then I'll cross the Susquehanna and drive Lee back into Virginia before Grant can even stir. If the rains hold I might even be able to pin Lee against the Potomac and annihilate him."

Seymour and Tweed looked at him with disbelief.

Dan smiled.

"Damn all of you. Think beyond this city for a moment. I take command of the army, defeat Lee, and all opens up. Lincoln and his cronies will be blamed for all that happened before. Even if the war drags into the following year, come next spring I take the Democratic nomination for president, and then, gentlemen, I give you the White House. Think of all that Tammany could do if we moved our headquarters there."

More than one nodded.

"If," Tweed said meditatively. "That's a very big if."

"It starts here, this morning," Dan said sharply. Draining the rest of his brandy he stood up, took the bottle that was on the table, corked it and then tossed it to one of his staff.

"Gentlemen, I'm putting this riot down and I want your people the hell out of the way."

Dan could see that he had them cornered. It was beyond their control and they knew it

"What are you going to do?" Tweed asked.

"What should have been done two days ago. I have a brigade forming up right now. I'm deploying them across the width of the island; we will seal every north-south avenue. Then sweep north."

"Why north?" Seymour asked. "The worst is in the southern wards, Five Points."

"Because that's where the money is, you idiot," Tweed interjected. "Save their backsides and we're heroes."

"My men are veterans," Dan continued, "and I'm cutting them loose. They're angry as hell after Union Mills, and I've told them this riot is provoked by rebel agents. At this point they will not stop and they will not be gentle."

No one spoke. The implication was clear.

Washington, D.C., Outside Fort Stevens

July 17 1863 9.00am

The morning fog was burning off, revealing a slate-gray sky that promised yet more rain. Taking off his hat, General Lee wiped his brow with a handkerchief. The day was already humid, the air still, warm. Mounted skirmishers rode ahead, fanned out to either side across a front of several hundred yards. A company of cavalry rode behind him, ready to spring forward if there was the slightest indication of trouble. He could see that Jeb was being cautious. During the night mere had been several probes by Union cavalry coming out of the city. There was always the chance that a unit could have slipped around the loose cordon of gray-clad troopers.

Cresting a low ridge he could see the forward line, horses tied, men sitting around smoking fires, springing to attention as word leapt ahead of his approach. Orders had been given that there was to be no fanfare, no recognition, but it was hard to contain the troopers that came down to the road, grins lighting their faces, young boys, old men, trim officers snapping to attention at his approach.

"You sleeping in the White House tonight, General, sir?" a wag shouted and a subdued cheer went up. Lee extended a calming hand as he rode past.

"The boys are eager," Jeb offered.

He could see that Most of them had fresh mounts taken in Pennsylvania; they'd been living off good rations for over a month. They had seen victory and in spite of the painful marching in the rainy fields, they were in high spirits, ready for anything. He knew that if he but whispered a few words, ordering them to form up and charge the fortifications, they would do so without hesitation.

Pressing on, he rode down into a tree-clad hollow, the muddy stream, which for most of the year was most likely nothing more than a brook that a boy could leap, now swollen, dark, coming nearly to Traveler's chest as they plunged across.

Several dozen troopers were at work, fashioning a rough-hewn bridge across the stream out of two logs and heavy planks torn from the side of a nearby barn. An ambulance lay on its side downstream, obviously flipped over when its driver had attempted to ford the torrent.

Traveler, slipping, gained the opposite side of the stream and with a quick jump took the muddy slope. The skirmishers, moving ahead, had slowed and Jeb nodded.

"We're there," he announced.

Lee nodded and without comment pressed on. Walter fell in by his side, as did Hood and Hotchkiss, the rest of the staff staying back under the canopy of trees.

"We're inside the District of Columbia now," Hotchkiss announced with a hint of ceremony in his voice.

That close, Lee thought and there was a memory of his home, of Arlington. Not ten miles away now, ten long miles and then it is oven How many hundreds of miles have we marched from Richmond, to Manassas, to Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, and Union Mills, and now to here? All of that, to gain this moment, at this place. One final lunge and it ends it. This one final lunge.

A couple of the scouts ahead stopped, turned, and came cantering back, the rest of the line slowing to a walk then reining in.

A messenger came up, saluting.

"It's ahead, sir, you'll see their line in a minute. Sir, it's rather close."

Lee smiled at the boy's caution. The message was clear, he'd prefer it if the general would stop now.

"I need to see," Lee said softly. "Lead the way, Captain."

The captain saluted and turned his mount, Lee following, with Taylor, Hotchkiss, and Hood following behind.

He could already see the vague outlines of the fortifications, an unnatural straight line, horizontal, cut like a razor's edge a quarter mile away. Gradually it came into clearer view as he reached the forward skirmish line. Most of the men were dismounted, carbines raised, the troopers looking anxiously toward Lee at his approach.

"Sir, would you please dismount?" the captain asked. "They've got plenty of ammunition over there and they like using it."

As if to lend weight to the argument, there was a flash of light from a gun emplacement, followed a couple of seconds later by the whoosh of a shell passing overhead, to detonate a hundred yards behind them.

Lee nodded but did not get off Traveler, who barely flinched as another shell streaked past

The young captain positioned his mount between Lee and the fort

Lee smiled.

"Captain, you are blocking my view." The captain looked to Stuart who nodded, and the captain moved.