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dollars a year. This was an unimaginable fortune.
    â€œHow many robbers?” Slocum finally asked.
    â€œThe number is uncertain since those who would have been able to know are dead. The engineer guessed at four.”
    A welter of questions ran through Slocum’s head, but he held them back.
    â€œOne hundred dollars a month, plus supplies and a reward if you return the shipment.”
    â€œHow much would the silver weigh?”
    â€œThe point of the robbery was rocky and the road ran along a steep cliff. All I can believe is that they had freight wagons to move the silver.”
    â€œWhat’s to keep me from finding the outlaws and keeping the silver?”
    Collingswood glared at him, then said coldly, “Underwood found you. He can find ten more to track you down and kill you. However, you seem intelligent and are likely a man of your word. If you get the job, do you give your word to return the stolen silver?”
    â€œI give value for my work,” Slocum said. “Why haven’t you sent out the law to find the robbers? A federal marshal could mount a posse for the money you’re offering me.”
    â€œI have my reasons. Do you accept?”
    â€œI do.” Slocum shook hands with the railroad vice president and was surprised at both his strong grip and the calluses there. Underwood hadn’t exaggerated. This was a man who sat atop a tall building looking over the harbor but had worked his way up there.
    â€œMiss Crittenden will give you the details and an advance on your first month’s pay.”
    â€œThis won’t take more than a month. I either find the robbers and the silver by then or I can’t do it at all.”
    â€œYour honesty is refreshing, Mr. Slocum.” David Collingswood turned in his chair to stare out the window through the Golden Gate. What he saw out on the Pacific, Slocum didn’t know. It might have been anything or nothing as other matters consumed him.
    Slocum took his leave, anticipating another talk with Tamara Crittenden. To his disappointment, both she and Underwood were gone. In the center of her desk was a large envelope with
John Slocum
written on it in a flowing feminine script.
    He picked it up and saw a sheaf of papers, a map, and five ten-dollar gold pieces.
    A clanking sound made him look down the corridor. The woman entered the elevator cage and disappeared down. Slocum hesitated, then wondered what sent her scurrying away from her post in the middle of the afternoon. He found the stairwell and raced down the steep steps as fast as he could go. He made it to the lobby in time to see Tamara leaving the building through the Market Street door.
    Not bothering to examine his motives, Slocum ran after her.

3
    Slocum stepped out into the street and looked in both directions, hunting for Tamara Crittenden. The woman’s quick departure struck him as out of the ordinary. If David Collingswood wanted him to find the owlhoots responsible for stealing so much silver, he had to be aware of anything unusual.
    He turned and caught sight of her rounding the corner farther toward the dock area. A woman as well dressed as she was asked for trouble going down there, even in the daytime. Slocum’s long legs devoured the distance to the corner. He rounded it and skidded to a halt. Tamara spoke with a man not ten feet away. Her back was to Slocum. The man was roughly dressed and carried a six-shooter slung at his side. From the way he stood, the man was within an inch of drawing his gun in spite of no one nearby threatening him—or Tamara. This told Slocum the man’s uneasiness came from being in San Francisco and not from anything immediate.
    He understood that foreboding sensation. He felt it himself.
    The man took Tamara by the arm. She pulled back, stood her ground, and then went with him. Slocum followed a dozen paces behind, but he walked a trifle faster to narrow the gap so he could eavesdrop.
    â€œ. . .