“I’m sorry, Mr. Jefferson, I was thinking of something and forgot to draw your water.  It won’t happen again, sir.  You said you had an important errand for me?” 

He pointed at the writing desk with his quill pen.  “As soon as I finish with these notes, you are to take them to Mr. Adams and Mr. Franklin.  I’ve made considerable progress in writing the document that declares our independence and wish to review it with them at a meeting here on Monday evening.  These are their invitations.  Please deliver them and wait for a reply.”

Great.  I’ll be able to see Emmy.

He handed me two envelopes, each sealed with wax.  One had John Adams’s name on it, the other Benjamin Franklin’s.

It wasn’t until I left Jefferson’s room that I realized that he hadn’t told me where each man lived.  I went up to my room and found the map of old Philadelphia.  Both locations were on it.

About fifteen minutes later, I was standing on High Street, diagonally across from Franklin’s home, watching to see if anyone was paying unusual attention to it.  No one seemed to be, so I went up to the door and knocked.  After a few moments, a man appeared and asked me what I wanted.  I was anxious to get to Emmy, so rather than say I wanted to see Mr. Franklin, I just held out the invitation.  He took it and closed the door.

            When I was about six or seven, I would walk into Lexington center with my father on Sunday mornings if the weather was okay.  He would buy a newspaper and a cup of coffee and we would sit on a bench, talking and watching people.  “Watching the world go by”, he called it.

Now I stood on the front steps of Benjamin Franklin’s home in 1776, watching the world go by.  Even though it was fairly early on a Saturday morning, High Street was full of people traveling in both directions – on foot, on horses, in carriages and in wagons.
 

If I traveled forward in time right now, the only thing that would be different would be the way they dressed and the cars, trucks and buses.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the door open behind me. “Please tell Mr. Jefferson that Mr. Franklin will be pleased to join him at four in the afternoon on Monday next.”

I said thank you and took off, weaving in and out of the people walking along High and 2^nd Streets until I reached City Tavern.  According to my research, John Adams lived in Mrs. Sarah Yard’s rooming house, located “across from City Tavern”.  There were three buildings across from the tavern that could have been rooming houses.
 

Okay, now, which . . .

“GET AWAY FROM ME!  GET AWAY . . . !”

Emmy!

Her scream was coming from a small passageway diagonally across from me.  Several heads turned in that direction, but no one stopped to investigate.  I sprinted into the alley.  Emmy was wrestling with a man wearing a black hat.  He had her arm twisted behind her back and was pushing her down the alley, away from me.
 

Can’t let it happen!

Running pretty much flat out, I launched myself like I was diving for a penalty shot and rammed my left shoulder into his back.  He let go of Emmy and they both went down.  I rolled over, jumped up, and dragged Emmy to her feet.
 

“Let’s get out of here!” I yelled.  Her attacker was getting up and he was a lot bigger than me.  I started pulling Emmy back the way I had come, but she stumbled and almost landed on the ground again.  That gave the guy time to shove me against a brick wall, and come at me with both hands out.

“You, there!”

The shout came from the rear of the alley.  In the split fraction of a second before I ducked under the guy’s rush, I saw a man wearing a kerchief around his neck, standing about twenty feet away and holding a pistol.
 

Emmy’s kerchief wearer!

When Black Hat came at me again, Emmy jumped on his back, but he just shrugged her off.

“Get out of the way!” shouted the kerchief wearer.  He started towards us, waving his pistol.

Might as well go down fighting.

 I grabbed Black Hat by the shoulder, but he spun away and ran up the alley into 2^nd Street.

Why is he running?

The guy wearing the kerchief shoved the pistol into the top of his pants, brushed by Emmy and me, and chased him.  With her eyes wide and her mouth open, Emmy slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cobblestones.   I went over sat down beside her.  She had a piece of dirt in her hair, and when I tried to brush it off, my hand shook.

“Looks like the adrenaline is wearing off,” I said.

“What’s . . . what’s . . .  adrenaline?”

It’s what your body makes when you get excited, when you’re in danger, when . . .”

She looked at me curiously.  “You know a lot, don’t you?”

We almost got killed and I’m babbling.

“No, it’s just something that . . .”

“Couldn’t catch him.  Too many people out there.  Most likely he wanted to grab the young lady to question her about Mr. Adams.”  The man with the kerchief was standing in front of us, holding out his hand.  He pulled Emmy to her feet.  I stood up next to her.

“Who are you?” Emmy asked, her voice trembling.

“My name is unimportant.  You may call me Will.  What is important that you’re here and you’re unharmed.  You and your young friend here, who, I must say, did an admirable job warding off your attacker.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Will,” I said.  But when we saw you, we thought that . . .”

Will chuckled.  “You thought I was one of them.  An Englishman.  Not bloody likely.  I’m an American, same as you, and I’m here because Captain Tallmadge told me to be here.”

“Captain Tallmadge?  But I thought that . . .”

“You thought I was a British spy, Emmy – like the one who attacked you.  I’ve seen you peeking out of the window, watching me watching this house.  That’s what the captain told me to do.  He wanted me to keep an eye on Mr. Adams.  And he was concerned that you, being a young lady, should be looked after somewhat more than the lads who are working with you.”

Emmy put her hands on her hips.  “I don’t need any protection any more than Charles, or Aaron, or Ben,” she snorted.  And I was keeping my eye on Mr. Adams.”

“Yes, you were,” he replied, “and quite a good job of it.  But what you don’t know is that the captain believes that the British have a spy in the house, either another lodger or someone who works there, like you.   He is concerned that this person could pose a threat to Mr. Adams.”

I held my hand out.  It had stopped shaking.  “Are there men like you looking out for Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Franklin?   Captain Tallmadge told us that they didn’t want any protection.  That’s why we’re here.”

“I don’t believe there are.  Mr. Jefferson is the only lodger in the Graff House and all the members of the Graff family are patriots.  As for Mr. Franklin, his gout keeps him in his house most of the time, and he has several loyal servants living with him.  But tell me, Charles, why are you here?”

I pulled the invitation from my pocket.  “This is from Mr. Jefferson, inviting Mr. Adams to the Graff House next Monday afternoon.  He wants to discuss the Declar . . . uh . . . a document that the Continental Congress asked him to write.  Mr. Franklin was also invited and said he’d be there.  That’s where I was before I came here.”

For the first time, I took a good look at Will.  He was in his probably in his early twenties, about my height, and maybe fifty pounds heavier, but not fat.  He was built like a fire hydrant.  Given his hefty build, I was surprised that he could run as fast as he did.  His face was about as rectangular as his body, with small mouth and a nose that looked like it had been broken.  His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail.  His clothing looked like my old outfit of sweat pants and jean shirt, except that he wore a blue and red kerchief around his neck.

“Excuse me for asking,” said Emmy, as if she were reading my thoughts, “but why do you wear that kerchief around your neck?”

Will grimaced.  He stuck his finger under the kerchief and pulled it partway down.  A vivid red scar twisted its way around his neck.
 

Emmy sucked in her breath.

“Two years ago I was a student at Harvard, but after the Battle of Lexington I decided that the colonies had to be free of the British.  I enlisted in the Continental army which had just been formed in Cambridge. That’s where I met Tallmadge.  He had just started working for General Washington and convinced me that I should go into Boston to gather information.  The Redcoats captured me, convicted me of spying, and hanged me.”

Will shrugged his shoulders.  “That is, they thought they hanged me.  I was dangling and choking . . . and the rope broke.  When I fell to the ground, the British didn’t know what to do.  Some said it was the work of the Lord.  Some said it was a frayed rope.  I don’t know about any of that, but they put me in a room while they tried to decide what to do with me.  I climbed out a back window and swam across the Charles River to Cambridge.  These red marks are rope burns.  I wear the kerchief not because they’re ugly – actually I’m rather proud of them – but because they might help the British find me.  After we free ourselves from the king, the kerchief will come off.”

Emmy and I looked at each other.  There wasn’t much we could say.

I cleared my throat.  “Will, thanks for saving us . . . if you hadn’t been here, well . . . look, I’ve got to deliver the invitation to Mr. Adams.”

“Will,” Emmy added, “I hope I’ll still be able to look out the window and see you.  It’ll make me feel good knowing you’re around.”

Will grinned.  “I’ll be around.  It’s my job.”

He turned and walked out of the alley.

“I’ll take you to Mr. Adams,” said Emmy. 

            She started to walk towards the back of the house, then suddenly turned, gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek.  "Thank you," she whispered.

            "Ah . . . well I . . . "

            "Emmy!  Are you out there?"

            "That's the cook," whispered Emm.  I have to bring Mr. Adams his morning tea.  He gets irritated if he doesn't get it on time.  Stay here.  After I serve him, I'll tell him you're here.  I'm sure he'll want you to come in."

            I stood in the shadowed alley, thankful for the breeze against my forehead, trying to make sense of what was going on.  Captain Tallmadge was right.  British intelligence agents were clearly plotting something to disrupt the writing of the Declaration of Independence.  The questions were what they would do, who they were after, and when it would happen.  The most obvious targets were members of the Committee of Five, and of those, the obvious candidates were Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Ben Franklin.

           On the other hand, what if the Redcoat targets were the other two members of the committee, Thomas Livingstone and Robert Sherman, who were not being looked after?  Or even other members of the Congress, like John Hancock,  the president of the Congress, or Sam Adams, who, probably more than anone else, had been responsible for the unrest in Massachusetts that had started the colonies down the road to Revolution.  Capturing or killing any one of the members of the Congress could disrupt the proceedings for months, if not permanently.

           Emmy's voice came from the back door.  "Charles!  Please come in."

           John Adams was sitting at a table in the dining room, drinking tea and reading a newspaper.

           Dad does the same thing, except coffee.

           Adams looked up.  "Good morning, Charles.  You're Lester Miles's apprentice.  I met you at the coffee shop."

           He raised his cup.  "Prefer tea myself, coffee gets my pulse racing a bit too much.  Emmy tells me that you have a letter from Mr. Jefferson for me."

           "Yes sir."  I took the envelope from my pocket and handed it to him.

           Adams slid his thumbnail under the seal and quickly read the invitation.  "Monday afternoon . . . hmmm."  He stroked his chin.  "Wish Lester was here, he keeps my schedule, but he's attending to some matters for me.  But you can tell Thomas that I'll be  there.  If I have another appointment, I'll cancel it.  The writing of the declaration takes precedence over anything else.  I presume that Mr. Franklin has also been invited."

           "I will, sir, and yes sir, he has been invited," I said, and turned to go.

           "Don't rush off, lad.  Sit down and relax a bit.  You look rather agitated.  You weren't involved in the noises I heard in the alley a little while ago, were you?"

           Emmy was shaking her head no.

           I sat down.  "Ah no, sir.  I just got here."

           "Perhaps some cats were fighting," Adams murmered.  He stared at the wall absentmindedly, unfolding and refolding the invitation.  "This may be the most important document ever written.  It  must clearly state our reasons for separating ourselves from the British Empire, but must also define exactly what kind of country we will be.  I am particularly interested in what Mr. Jefferson has written about slavery.  Many of the delegates have well-defined opinions on slavery - either for or against - and it will be nearly impossible for them to change their minds.  This issue cannot be permitted to divide us."

           He looked at me for a long moment.  I didn 't know what to say, so I just nodded.

           "You, however, are a young man.  Perhaps you have opinions that differ from the older generation.  Tell me, Charles, what do you think of slavery?  The truth, now."

           Oh, boy.

           "Well, I'm . . . I'm against it."

           "And why are you against it?"

           "Because it's wrong from any people to enslave any other people."

           "Even if the other people are inferior?"

           I thought Adams was agains slavery.

           "What do you mean by inferior?"

           Adams stroked his chin.  "Why, not as intelligent, not as brave, not as hard-working."

           "Who are you talking about?"

           "Why, black people, of course."

           I was getting upset.  "That's crazy," I said heatedly.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Emmy put her hands to her head and turn away.

           I guess you don't talk to John Adams that way.

           "I know plenty of black people who are as intelligent, as brave and as hard-working as any white person I know.  In fact, some of them are even better!  Like Prince Estabrook.  He was wounded in the Battle of Lexington.  My friend Ben said he was one of the smartest men he ever knew.  And Crispus Attucks.  He was the first man killed by the British in the Boston Massacre.  I know his son, Aaron, and he's as brave and smart as any white person!"

           Adams put his hand on my shoulder.  "Relax, lad.  I happen to agree with you.  Mrs. Adams and I have no slaves, nor will we ever.  I know of Prince Estabrook, and am well aware of what happened to Crispus Attucks.  History will record that he was the first man to fall in what will be called the American Revolution."

           "If you agree with me, sir, why did you give me such a hard time?"

           "Hmmm . . . interesting use of words.  I suspect by hard time you mean why I was questioning you the way I did.  It was to see how firm you are in your attitude towards slavery, either for or against it."

           Well, I'm firmly against it."

           Adams chuckled.  "I can see that.  I only hope that Mr. Jefferson makes a clear case against slavery in our statement of freedom.  Freedom should be for all the people who live in the colonies, black or white."

           He frowned.  "But I fear that will be difficult to achieve.  Mr. Jefferson and I will, I'm sure, discuss this matter at length."

           Adams pushed back his chair and stood up.  "Lad, this has been a most interesting, if brief, conversation.  I only hope that many young people share your beliefs regarding slavery.  And now, please excuse me.  I have much work to do, and you need to return to Mr. Jefferson with my reply."

           He held out his hand I shook it.

           Shaking hands with John Adams.  Unbelievable!

           I followed Emmy out into the alley.

           "I said before that I thought you were pretty smart," she said, "but talking to Mr. Adams like that was pretty dumb.  Why did you say what you said?"

           "Because he asked me to tell the truth."