The Yankee Club

by Michael Murphy

  Dalrymple’s face twisted in rage. He snapped his fingers to the guard. “Shoot him.”

  “No!” Laura screamed.

  The guard aimed his Luger at my head, but Dalrymple held up one hand. He smiled at Laura. “If you want him to live, you must play a part tonight.”

  “I can’t. I won’t.” She spit into his face.

  That’s my Laura.

  “Your lover dies, here, now, unless you do as you’re told.” Dalrymple calmly wiped his face with the handkerchief. “Remember, darling, you’re an actress. That’s why I proposed, after all.” He gestured toward the guard. “Take this dirty mick to my house. In the morning I’ll turn him over to the new order.” He winked at me. “I did promise you that ocean view at Alcatraz.”

  I struggled to free myself from the cuffs. Only the cold steel kept me from ripping the man’s face from his head.

  Laura’s misty eyes pleaded for my understanding. When I nodded, her face transformed into the role of dutiful fiancée. She slipped her arm in Dalrymple’s. “Come, Spencer. We mustn’t be late.”

  Chapter 19

  Thursday Night Fights at the Garden

  My flicker of optimism when Greenwoody stood up to Dalrymple vanished when a Dalrymple guard led the war hero and his family away. This was the man on the white horse who would lead the country out of the Great Depression?

  Laura left the hotel suite with Spencer Dalrymple III. Even though her cooperation might keep me alive, I might end up in prison for the rest of my life and never see her again.

  “Let’s go.” The guard whose nose I’d bloodied stuffed Gino’s gun into his jacket and shoved me into the next room with my hands cuffed behind me.

  A Blackshirt waited with a smirk on his face. “Remember me?” The guard in the alley outside Al’s Pool Hall who probably broke Frankie’s ribs.

  “I’m trying to forget.”

  He pulled a ten-inch knife from inside his black shirt. “If Mr. Dalrymple hadn’t ordered us to keep you alive, I’d kill you and enjoy every second as you screamed away your final breaths.”

  His attitude restored some of my self-assurance. “That’s very poetic. May I use it in my next novel?”

  “There ain’t going to be no next novel.” Flaring nostrils were my only warning as he head-butted me.

  I stumbled backward then offered my cuffed hands to the Dalrymple guard. “Will you unlock these cuffs for a moment so I can give this idiot a proper thrashing?”

  “Get going.” The guard yanked me across the room and into the corridor. At the elevator, the door opened. The Blackshirt drew a gun and aimed it at a startled elevator operator. “Beat it, old man.”

  “Yes, sir.” The operator stumbled from the elevator and hurried down the corridor.

  The Blackshirt shoved me inside while his partner closed the door and pressed the button to the first floor with the barrel of his gun.

  In the lobby, the guards holstered their weapons. With my hands cuffed behind me, guests gawked like I might be one of Al Capone’s boys. The guards led me outside to a black sedan and opened the rear door.

  I climbed into the backseat unable to shake the feeling of defeat. Since returning to the city, I’d dodged my share of close calls. I might be able to outsmart these guys, but I couldn’t imagine how I could get out of this jam in time to stop the coup and save Laura. Would Dalrymple still need her after he and the Golden Legion assumed power?

  The driver, with a toothpick in his mouth, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Hello, Jake.”

  Frankie?

  Frankie Malzone turned and pointed a gun at the startled Blackshirt guard. “I’m going to enjoy this, tough guy. Hand over your piece, and uncuff Jake.”

  “And your knife,” I added.

  Outside the car, the second guard reached for the door handle, clearly oblivious to what was occurring inside the sedan. Danny and Gino sprang from the back of a cab parked in front of the car and rushed him from behind. Pedestrians stared as Danny shoved the man against the passenger door.

  Gino grabbed the guard’s handcuffs and locked both his hands behind his back. Danny handed the man’s gun to Gino, who stuffed it inside his suit coat.

  Frankie kept his eyes on the guard beside me. “Forget about your partner. From this distance, I can’t miss.”

  “Sure, sure.” His hands shook as he gave Frankie his pistol and knife. He removed a set of keys from his belt. The keys jingled in his shaking hands.

  “It’s beginning to sound a lot like Christmas.” Frankie cocked the gun. “Hurry it up.”

  I turned my back to the guard, who unlocked my handcuffs.

  Frankie spit out the toothpick. “Cuff the bastard, Jake.”

  The guard handed the keys to me. “I … I didn’t really mean what I said earlier about wanting to kill you.”

  “And enjoy watching me scream away my final breaths.” I locked the guard’s left wrist to his ankle. “No offense.” I slammed my elbow into his face.

  He rolled his tongue around his mouth and spit out a tooth as I climbed from the car.

  While the crowd dispersed, I peered over the car at Gino. We had a lot of work to do before Laura was safe, but I’d be a corpse without Gino, Danny, and Frankie. “Thanks, goombah.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He nodded to my Model A parked across the street. “Danny and Frankie will take care of these bums. You and me’ll save Laura. Think she’s at the Garden?”

  “I’m counting on it. The president’s speech starts in less than two hours.”

  “Time’s a-wastin’.” Gino shoved the guard into the back of the car and slammed the door.

  Danny opened the passenger door. “Me and Frankie’ll keep these bums on ice while you go after Laura.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Danny grinned. “I do.” He climbed inside and aimed one of the guard’s guns at the two men in the backseat. He waved as Frankie drove off.

  Horns honked as Gino and I dodged traffic. We climbed inside the Model A, and Gino started the car. “That went just like we rehearsed.”

  “When did you have time to rehearse?”

  “While you was inside talking your way into trouble.” Gino pointed to my blue pin-striped suit hanging above the backseat. “You told me to bring you some clothes. The rest, about deciding to bust some heads, I did that on my own.”

  “I’m glad you did.” I pulled off the sweatshirt. Changing would’ve been easier in a phone booth.

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Plan? Security will be tight at the Garden. I’m not even sure how we’ll get in.”

  “Got that covered.” Gino winked. “I know a guy.”

  I slipped into my blue trousers and fed the belt through the loops. I grabbed my black shoes from the backseat. “Where are my socks?”

  “Socks?” Gino shrugged. “Guess you gotta wear the ones you got.”

  “Black shoes with white socks?”

  Gino burst out laughing. “You ungrateful bastard. Laura’s been kidnapped, the government’s hanging by a thread, and you’re worried your socks might clash with your outfit.”

  “I’m worried I might stand out.”

  “Sure you are. I remember when we used to think socks without holes meant dressing up.”

  I tied my shoes then finished cinching my tie in the rearview mirror as he found a parking space in the crowded lot. “Better leave the gun. We don’t want to get pinched before we get in.”

  Gino stuffed the gun beneath the seat.

  We joined the crowd heading to the Garden. I still hadn’t come up with a plan to rescue Laura. She and Dalrymple would be surrounded by his goons. I didn’t know whether Stoddard and Kennedy had succeeded in convincing the feds the threat was real, but I couldn’t count on them. I had to save Laura, and all I had on my side was the element of surprise, Gino, and the grit that came so easily to us as kids back in Queens.

  We stopped near the entrance where four lines snaked their w
ay toward ticket-takers in dark blue uniforms and Garden caps. Gino nodded toward one of the female ticket-takers. “You see the blonde with the big … nice smile? She’s the guy I know.”

  With my watch somewhere in the North Atlantic, I checked Gino’s while we stood in line. Roosevelt was scheduled to speak in an hour. We reached the front of the line.

  The blonde ticket-taker smiled. “Hey, Gino. I ain’t heard from you in months. Then outta nowheres, you give me a jingle.”

  He patted me on the shoulder. “This is my friend from Florida I told you about.”

  “Sure.” She let us through. “What time you picking me up Saturday?”

  Gino shrugged. “Seven?”

  She smiled. “Perfect.”

  Gino and I walked away. He thumbed back toward the blonde. “Don’t say nothin’ about this to Stella.”

  The Yankee Club cigarette girl? “You and Stella getting serious?”

  “No. Maybe. Who knows?”

  We blended into the crowd. I tugged my hat down over my eyes so no one would recognize me. Security was as tight as I suspected. We climbed the stairs and stepped onto the third-level concourse. From the top of the aisle we gazed over at least ten thousand people waiting to hear Roosevelt talk about the New Deal.

  A blue backdrop hung behind the stage where a lectern with the White House seal faced a military band. I shaded my eyes from the lights and peered through the cigarette smoke clinging to the ceiling. “Wish I had binoculars.”

  “Just a second.” Gino went up to a large woman wearing a fur stole peering through a set of opera glasses. “Excuse me, madam, but that’s a lovely fur.” When she fanned herself with one hand, he pointed to the glasses. “Do you enjoy the opera? My favorite is La Traviata. That Violetta’s some dish, you know? May I borrow your glasses?”

  She handed them to Gino. He passed them to me and whispered, “Hurry it up, I’m running out of compliments.”

  The crowd buzzed with excitement. The press section on the second level overlooked the stage. I spotted Laura’s white dress one section closer to the stage. My heart slammed into my chest as I focused on her unsmiling face beside Dalrymple. He sat on the aisle smiling and twirling his hat like he had a tip on a long shot at the Kentucky Derby. The Greenwoodys, the rest of the Golden Legion, and a couple dozen security guards filled the seats in the section. Rescuing Laura wouldn’t be easy.

  I gave the woman her glasses back and thanked her with a tip of my hat. We made our way down the stairs.

  Gino walked behind me. “Sorry about forgetting your socks. You do kind of stand out.”

  I shot him a look as we entered the noisy, crowded concourse and took the aisle leading to the Dalrymple contingent.

  “Took you long enough.” A familiar voice came from behind. Landon Stoddard. Beside him stood two unsmiling men with holster bulges beneath their blue suit coats. “There’s someone who needs to talk to you.”

  “Who?”

  Stoddard pointed toward a door labeled CUSTODIANS ONLY beside the men’s room. “Don’t have time to explain.”

  Gino and I hurried after him. At the door, Stoddard held up one hand. “Just Jake.”

  “You okay with this?” Gino asked.

  I nodded. While Gino waited with the two agents, I followed Stoddard through the door. Inside Joseph Kennedy paced the small, uncomfortably warm room. A wobbly ceiling fan stirred the air above a wooden table where Oliver Greenwoody wiped his brow with a damp handkerchief. A guard stood adjacent to a door on the restroom side of the room, staring at his watch.

  Greenwoody jumped to his feet. “You found him.”

  “We spotted Jake the minute he and his friend came in.” Stoddard took off his hat and wiped his brow.

  Greenwoody nodded toward the wall connected to the restroom. “We don’t have much time before Dalrymple’s guards start searching the stalls.”

  What was this all about?

  “For some reason he only trusts you.” Kennedy gestured toward Greenwoody.

  Greenwoody led me to a corner and stuffed a piece of paper in my hand. I glanced at the number 492. “What’s this?”

  He lowered his voice so only I could hear. “There’s a briefcase with a combination lock in the safe at the Plaza.”

  I nodded toward Kennedy. “I think you can trust him. He’s—”

  “I trust you. More important, my daughter trusts you. What you do with the contents of the briefcase is your own business.” He slipped me an envelope. “Here’s a letter authorizing the hotel to release the briefcase to you if … if things don’t go well.”

  “You’ve been gone eleven minutes.” The guard opened the door. Through the doorway was the inside of a restroom stall. Greenwoody nodded and entered the stall. The guard closed the door behind him.

  “The president stayed in Washington,” Kennedy said, “but only a few of us know. If we’re going to do something, it has to be before the announcement. We have twenty minutes to come up with something.”

  I handed the envelope and slip of paper to Kennedy. “There’s a briefcase in the safe at the Plaza hotel.”

  Kennedy stuffed the items in his suit coat pocket. “Greenwoody wouldn’t have been so secretive if the briefcase didn’t contain enough information to put Dalrymple and his gang behind bars. There are over a hundred Secret Service agents scattered around the Garden, but the Golden Legion has plenty of security of their own, plus undercover Blackshirts. We can’t just arrest Dalrymple without causing fireworks. If innocent people are killed, it might even turn New Yorkers against the president.”

  “We’re nearly out of time.” Stoddard checked his watch. “We need Greenwoody alive to put Dalrymple behind bars. We have to ensure his safety … and his family’s.”

  I’d never seen Stoddard so nervous. “Don’t forget about Laura.”

  “Her, too,” Stoddard said, “but we don’t know for sure what’s in the briefcase. Greenwoody might be setting us up. We have no choice. We have to act right now and arrest Dalrymple, the Golden Legion, and the whole gang!”

  “You say gang; their supporters will say eleven of the country’s most powerful bankers.” Kennedy pulled out a handkerchief and calmly cleaned his glasses. “If things go wrong, how do we explain the use of deadly force against men like that? Congress would introduce articles of impeachment against Roosevelt within twenty-four hours.”

  “Damn it, Joe.” Stoddard slammed his fist on the table. “We don’t have any choice. We have to snatch Dalrymple, no matter the cost.”

  I remembered two sections I noticed when I peered through the opera glasses. “I might know a way.”

  I approached the section of reporters and photographers beside the Dalrymple party. If I was to rescue Laura and Oliver Greenwoody, I had to display more confidence than I felt.

  I made my way down the aisle and overheard a couple of men talking about a rumor the president might not make an appearance. I shook hands with a reporter I knew fairly well, one who had trouble keeping secrets.

  “Jake Donovan.” He gave me the once-over. “Nice socks.”

  I lowered my voice. “You want to break some news?”

  “Sure. I’m always interested.”

  I nodded toward Dalrymple and Laura seated one section over. “Laura Wilson plans to end her engagement to Spencer Dalrymple this evening. Your paper seems interested in their relationship. I thought you’d appreciate a photo of the special moment.”

  “Absolutely, but why are they calling it quits? Another dame?”

  “Laura’s in love with another man.”

  Several reporters and photographers began to pay attention.

  The reporter laughed. “You?”

  “I plan to have it out with Dalrymple before the president takes the stage. If you want a picture that’ll make the front page, wait here until I set it up for you.”

  “You been drinking?”

  “No, but if this works out, Laura and I’ll be popping a bottle of champagne at The Yankee Club l
ater.”

  The reporter raised an eyebrow. “Why are you being nice to the press all of a sudden?”

  “ ’Cause I want to see Dalrymple’s look of shock in the papers tomorrow.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” By now at least two dozen reporters were listening in on the conversation.

  I wanted all the press to hear. “Give me a couple minutes. I’m going to inform Dalrymple it’s over between them. I’ll try not to make a scene, but when I grab Laura Wilson’s hand, that’ll be your signal to come over and snap some pictures.”

  “Deal.”

  I took a deep breath and climbed up the aisle. I walked to the back of the Dalrymple group, wiped damp palms on my trousers, and bounded down the steps like I was New York’s biggest playboy, all for the benefit of the press.

  Before I reached Laura and Dalrymple’s row, two of his thick-necked guards stopped me. “I’m here to chat with Miss Wilson and Mr. Dalrymple.”

  Laura twisted in her seat and smiled. “Jake.” She thumped her finger against Dalrymple’s chest. “I told you you were no match for him.”

  Dalrymple’s eyes narrowed into slits. He glanced around to the Golden Legion bankers then nodded to his two guards, who let me through.

  Greenwoody, like the soldier he was, appeared ready for any contingency. I stood beside Dalrymple and tried to flash the most arrogant smirk possible. “If your guards at the Plaza are any indication of your organization’s efficiency, you might as well turn yourselves in now.”

  Dalrymple glanced at Oliver Greenwoody then held up a hand to the members of the Golden Legion with an I-have-everything-under-control look. “Perhaps I underestimated you, Donovan, but you’re too late to stop anything now. After the president’s speech—”

  “Go ahead and overthrow the government if you want.” I raised my voice. “The only thing I’m going to stop tonight is your engagement to the most beautiful woman in New York.”

  Dalrymple stood and clenched both fists. “Like hell you are.”

  He could easily order his guards to haul me away, but I counted on him taking my presence personally. I gestured toward the stage. “I could throw you over that railing.”