Wave of Death

by Charlie Vogel

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You will have to let me go. I’m the only one who can keep Wong’s men in check until you and your friends get out of here.”

  “You take me for a fool? You and those men out there will shoot us in the back at the first opportunity.”

  “What alternatives do you have? Wait for more to arrive? I’m the only chance you have. When Wong gets here, he won’t care.”

  “And, when will the scum of life be here?”

  She sat silently, staring at the broken window, then a sick smile crept across her face.

  Brutus’s voice echoed from across the room. “Pencils, they’re coming. They got them guns pointed our way and are walking to the house.”

  Rex followed me to the window. He held a Tommy gun. I smiled and said, “You better get a firmer grip on it or that gun will shoot itself out of your hands.”

  “Goddamn it, I don’t know how to fire it, but I need to do something to help.”

  “You’ve never been on the firing range?”

  “I’m a goddamn medic!”

  “I thought everybody had to qualify.”

  “I didn’t give a shit! Why do you think I became a goddamn medic?”

  “Here. Just pull this back and squeeze the trigger, but . . . Hey! Keep the damn thing pointed at the goons, not me! And quit shaking.”

  From behind splintered boards, I glanced out into the yard and watched the six men walking side by side, slowly approaching the house. They looked like stupid-assed cowboys walking down a street in some B-western movie.

  Brutus whispered, “Should we shoot ‘em now, eh, Pencils?”

  “No, wait until they get closer. I don’t want them to have a chance to take cover, especially around my car.”

  A cloud of dust appeared. A black Cadillac darted across the grass then stopped a few feet behind the approaching men. Wong stepped from the rear door. The men turned and grouped around him.

  Brutus excitedly mumbled, “Come on, Pencils, let me do it. We can get the boss and everyone.”

  “No, I don’t want Wong dead. I need to get some information from him.”

  A click of steel rubbing against steel came from across the room. The three of us turned in unison and stared at a cocked Navy Colt pointed our way.

  “I’m sure I tied those goddamn knots tight,” Rex babbled. “How in hell did she get loose?”

  Brutus answered, “Because you’re not a goddamn boatswain mate. You should’ve let me tie her up.”

  “Drop your guns!” Jenny ground out between clenched teeth.

  I studied those glazed eyes. “You drop yours. We’ve got you outnumbered and out-gunned.”

  “Okay, which one of you wants to die before I go down. It probably doesn’t matter. Since Wong is back, you’ll all die anyway.”

  Rex stood next to me and whispered in my ear, “Goddamn it, Pencils, I can’t take this. I didn’t go to Med school to learn how to kill and get killed.”

  The deafening explosion of a gun filled the room. The three of us flinched, but Jenny was the one who fell to the floor. Only glancing at one another, we rushed back to the damaged window to return fire at the ragged line of Wong’s men.

  After watching a man fall and others taking cover, I looked up to see Lihua standing over Jenny’s body, a military-issued Colt held firmly in her delicate right hand. She stared down at the bloody exit hole that covered the dead woman’s face, the inevitable result of firing a round in the back of the head.

  I called out over the whistle of passing bullets, “Lihua, you okay?”

  “Yeah, Pencils, I’m fine.”

  “You better take cover or you’re going to get hit.”

  “Would it matter whether I get shot here or over there?”

  “Goddamn it, I’m serious! Take cover! How in hell will I take care of your old, fat ass if you get killed?”

  A moment passed with several furious rounds exchanged. Then Wong’s voice called, “Pencils, stop shooting. I want to talk.”

  Close to my ear, a fly replaced the whiz of bullets. I batted it away. “What do you want, Wong?”

  “I would like to give you another chance. I’m sure I can work something out with your superiors by holding your two friends. I’ll let you go to the base and come back with the documents. You can collect a million dollars for all involved when I arrive in Peking. Do you think you can work out safe passage?”

  “You’re not getting shit from me, Wong. Before this is over, one of us will be dead. And, I’m giving you a fight before it happens to me.”

  Dust floated from the ceiling as more bullets sprayed into the house. We flattened ourselves on the floor, waiting for a break so we could rear up and fire back. After what seemed like a thousand firecrackers ceased, I peeked through a cluster of bullet holes that made the wall look like a Chinese checker board.

  Wong sent two men forward to check on us. Before I could say anything, Brutus wiped them out with one squeeze of his trigger. Once again, the splintering of wood and dust filled the room. I hugged the floor.

  Brutus’s husky voice sounded over the twang of lead pieces. “Pencils, I’m tired of this waiting bullshit! I’m going out and sneak around them. Can you guys cover me?”

  “No, you’re too goddamn big! They’ll see you. I’ll go out. Hey, Rex, you know how many men are left out there?”

  “With the four that came with Wong, there should be six and Wong makes seven.”

  I didn’t take time to acknowledge his count. Rolling across room debris, I reached the duffel bag. I took out hand grenades, a new Navy Colt, and a replacement drum for my Tommy gun. Slapping a full clip into the butt of the .45, I continued to roll into a back room, just in time to see a man crawling over the window sill. One round from my pistol took care of the intruder.

  Thankful for my slender build, I leaped through the open window and landed on both feet on the powdered soil at the edge of the orchard field. On my knees and one elbow, I crawled into the space under the house, determined to reach the front of the house undetected. Glancing to my left, I saw a pair of legs and hoped someone above me would see the man before he could hurt any of them. If I took him out, my position would be compromised. A single shot sounding above me sprawled the man backwards.

  Following a line of bushes and tall grass, I came within three feet of a goon hidden behind Rex’s Chevy. I cringed at the thought of what Rex would say when he saw the bullet holes in his car. The vehicle reminded me of Swiss cheese, only blue. Glancing at my own battered car, I ground my teeth and whispered under my breath, “Wong will pay before I kill him.”

  Two men now stood behind Rex’s car. “Shit!” I whispered in regret before firing into the gas tank. The orange ball mushroomed above me. I felt the burning heat pricking my face like tiny needles. Goddamn, why did I do that?

  A flaming fragment landed on my back. My shirt burst into flames. I rolled to extinguish it just like we learned in bootcamp fire school. Laying still for a moment, I watched the burning car as if mesmerized. The two men looked like charcoal sticks glued to the side of the Bel Air, each silhouetted in his own flame.

  Wong called out, “Pencils, it’s not too late to make a deal.”

  His voice came from behind the black Cadillac that brought Lihua. It sat under a tree, about forty yards from my position. Except for the burnt spot between my shoulder blades and a sun-burnt face, I felt fine enough to take on the son-of-a-bitch. Crawling around the burning steel, I sighted Wong’s back. His last two men stood on each side of him, but they wouldn’t do him any good.

  Within ten feet of the three people, I carefully aimed my Colt. The man on Wong’s right left his payroll, falling forward with a hole in the back of the head. The remaining two spun around. The guard dived for cover, but my bullet followed him into the bush. A moment later, the man feebly asked for his mother and gurgled into silence.

  Only Wong stood, holding a Tommy gun. “Pencils, is that you?”

  Secure in
my cover, I waited. He stared, searching for any movement. His gun fired several feet to my left then swept to my right. He took a step forward but, as if he decided to fox trot, he stepped back. His wagging head and darting eyes told me he was unsure of where to go. More rounds flared from the gun. Then his finger jerked repeatedly on the trigger, but nothing happened.

  I called out, “You want more bullets, Wong?”

  He threw the gun down. “Pencils, you surprise me. I didn’t think you would ever make us come face to face like this. Now, I suppose you’ll take me in and turn me over to the police, right?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I’m not in any position to want anything, but you are that type of honorable person, aren’t you? You know, the good guy who always takes the bad guy to jail.”

  With my Colt, I took careful aim and fired a round into his right knee. He stumbled to the ground. His voice lowered into a whimper, “I . . . I . . . guess, it’s . . . it’s apparent you’re not the man with a gold star.”

  “No, but I do wear a white hat.”

  I stepped from behind the bush and approached, watching him closely for sudden moves. In my peripheral vision, three shadows walked out the front door of the house. I stood over Wong. Animal fear widened his eyes.

  “I thought you weren’t scared of death.”

  “Pencils, death is nothing, but painful dying is feared by all men,” he choked out.

  “You wanted to make a deal. Okay, I’m ready. You give me the name of the sailor and I’ll let you live.”

  He blinked then his chin arrogantly lifted. “Let me see. What is it you Americans say? Oh, yes. Why don’t you go to hell?”

  “Is there anything I can offer you in exchange for the information?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you saving this man? He can’t be any use to you now.”

  “Pencils, as a sailor you will understand this. The ocean is vast. There are many waves caused by the winds, currents, and tides. Some waves are good, especially in the navigation of ships. The bad ones that cannot be avoided come with storms. But it is the wave of death that concerns us all. It is destructive to people who live on shore, as well as at sea. You see, Pencils, I swore my life to the Wave of Death. I will not bargain my oath. I can not give you the information you need.”

  Sighing deeply, I motioned for my three friends to get back to the house. My fingers slid into my pocket and grasped the grenade. I drew it out, holding it in the palm of my hand as if it was a sacred icon. My gun dropped to the ground so I could pull the pin on the pineapple. Taking only one step back, I tossed the little green bomb. It didn’t matter at that moment if any fragments entered me. I just wanted Wong dead. He actually picked it up and caressed it. Smiling as if in pleasure, he fell on top of it as it exploded into his stomach.

  Chapter 17

  Three days of being confined in a small room and interrogated by the FBI and ONI wore me down both psychologically and physically. On the fourth day, I digested another cold box lunch before the Marine guards escorted me to Admiral Collins’s office, where my three friends joined me.

  Rex, Brutus, and I each wore tropical dress whites. Lihua had on a fashionable floral summer dress. When she saw me eyeing the filmy garment, she whispered that the Officer’s Club had donated the funds and purchased it at the Navy Exchange.

  Uneasy in the paneled office, we took our seats before the Admiral’s wide desk in the chairs positioned far apart and waited in uneasy silence.

  Brutus fidgeted in his chair making it repeatedly creak. I worried for the chair’s safety. Finally, he cleared his throat and whispered loudly, “Pencils, you think we’ll going to the brig?”

  “Why would we?” I responded in a normal voice. The others looked at me like I had shouted in church or something.

  “The way those assholes treated me,” Brutus continued in his whisper, “they sounded as if I shot everyone because I liked it. They acted as if I was to blame for all those dead goons.”

  “Don’t let their questioning bother you. It’s over.”

  We turned our heads as the door swung open.

  Rex called out, “Attention on Deck!”

  Admiral Collins entered, looked us over, then said, “At ease.” He stepped behind his desk, picked up his submarine lighter, and fired up his perpetual cigar. After puffing an adequate cloud of smoke, he sat, leaned back, and nailed me with the same look my father used when I screwed up as a boy. “Well, Marinous, what do you have to say?”

  “Where do you want me to start, Sir?”

  “I’ve read all the goddamn reports from the investigation team. It made me sicker than hell to read about people being blown up and shot. Are you some wild animal, Coleman?”

  “No, Sir. I did what I had to do.”

  “Wading through all this blood, did you get any closer in your investigation?”

  “No.”

  “So why in hell didn’t you call for the FBI or even the local police? Shit, don’t you think common sense would tell you to let law enforcement handle Wong and his men? Your orders were to find and arrest the asshole who killed the two sailors. ONI just informed me I can make the decision on whether or not to discipline you and your shipmates. If charges are filed, Lihua will have to be released to the local police. Do you have anything to say now?”

  “Yes, Sir. May I have permission to speak freely?”

  “Of course. I’m assuming it’s off the record?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You’re just like your father, bull headed and unlikely to back down. Go ahead and tell me what you have to say.”

  “I have another idea of how I can learn the identity of my suspect. Lihua told me she would recognize him if she sees him. I’d like to take her aboard the STEVENS and have her look over the crew.”

  The Admiral stood and leaned over his desk, resembling a bull with smoke pouring out the corners of his mouth. His eyes bored into mine. With exaggerated care, he removed the cigar and placed it in the large ashtray. He then turned and strolled to the window, his hands folded behind him. Abruptly, he made an about face.

  “Pencils, why are you doing this now? Shit, if she could’ve identified that murderer, why didn’t you take her aboard the STEVENS days ago? You would’ve saved a lot of lives!”

  “The thought never occurred to me . . . since she’s a civilian.”

  “Oh bullshit! You’re handling this as a game. Which reminds me of what your father told me one day when I spent leave in Omaha. He said he’d rather go in and kill off the crooks because then the courts wouldn’t get the chance to release them back on the street. But, he said, the law prevents him from doing that, so he is stuck in the endless chain of events of investigating, making an arrest, going to court, then returning to the street to do it over again. You studied your father too much, Marinous, but you’re not as maturely tolerant. You decided to break your father’s cycle and get rid of the bad guys for good. Admit it!”

  Bristling, I stood and stepped away from my chair. “Sir, that’s not really what I was thinking. Pardon me, but you weren’t there and you didn’t see what happened or what options were available. In my opinion, this proposal is the final option, the only chance to end this. I’m asking you to authorize me to take Lihua aboard the ship. After that, you can send me to Leavenworth for the rest of my life. And . . . well, one more favor, Sir. I’m asking you to release Brutus and Rex without any black marks on their records. They had nothing to do with Wong. They followed me as friends. I’m taking full responsibility for their actions.”

  “Goddamn right, you are!” He glanced at his cigar, then frowned as another thought arose. He cocked his head and squinted. “Wait just a minute here! Lieutenant Holcomb. You knew all along he was the other suspect in the murders, didn’t you! So why did you insist he be at a useless desk, filling a spot of no importance?”

  “I didn’t want him to screw up any more aboard the STEVENS.”

  “Like how?”


  “Like tipping off the suspect.”

  His face darkened in anger. “You know who the other suspect is, don’t you Marinous?”

  I swallowed, but remained calm, meeting his gaze squarely. “Maybe.”

  “Who is he? Tell me! That’s an order, sailor.”

  “May I have permission to speak off the record, again, Sir?”

  “No! I want the name of that man . . . now.”

  I snapped to attention. “Yes, Sir! I suspect Yeoman Third Class Teddy Rhodes, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Petty Officer Coleman. I’ll have Shore Patrol pick him up. At ease, sailor.”

  As I took my seat, the Admiral reached for the phone. I couldn’t help but interrupt, “With all due respect, I wouldn’t do that, Sir!”

  He replaced the receiver and sat down, his eyes narrow slits. “And why is that? Either you’re sure or you’re not.”

  “I have no actual evidence, just a physical description. Like I said before, we need Lihua to make the identification, and that will only prove contact with Wong. It doesn’t prove he murdered those two men.”

  Admiral Collins leaned back into his leather chair, deep in thought. His hand absently replaced the cigar in his mouth. He had to puff hard to rekindle the glow on its tip. “So how will you prove he’s the correct murder suspect . . . since Lihua’s identification would only indicate Rhodes knew Wong and nothing else?”

  “Rhodes is a man who is easily intimidated. I’m hoping he admits to killing Lieutenant Barnes and Seaman Garretson.”

  “Hope? Pretty thin, Marinous.” A cloud of smoke hung over the desk. “An admission of guilt must be done in the presence of the proper authorities, so I’ll have Shore Patrol pick him up.”

  “Sir . . .” I earnestly leaned forward. “I believe there would be less trouble if I get the confession. I worked with the guy since he came aboard ship. I have a better understanding of how to direct questions he would answer.”

  “As an Admiral, I can order you to shut up and sit in the brig while I have Rhodes arrested,” he spoke with the authority of that rank, then shrugged, “but, since I have been a friend of your father’s all these years, I’ll merely keep you restricted to Pearl Harbor for the next twenty-four hours. During that time you will secure a confession . . . or I’ll have you up a shit creek without a paddle. Am I clear, sailor?”