“How’s griftin’?” Tino stepped over to the desk and settled into the chair behind it. He kept the gun on them the whole way.
“Nice boat, you got here.” Mike stepped in front of Benny and came for Tino.
“Easy, fella. Easy.” Tino raised the gun.
Benny grabbed Mike’s arm and stopped him. Tino nodded and gave them a grim smile, then he opened the middle drawer of the desk and put the Colt in it. He didn’t close the drawer.
“This boat, she makes me money. She might not look like much. But she delivers.” Tino spoke with no enthusiasm. He had given this speech a lot of times. Most recently, to the boys back East. They hadn’t liked it.
Benny stepped forward and shook Tino’s hand. “Well pal, you know me, I like the place. I love it. I’ve been coming here since she opened.” Benny oozed his well-oiled patter and slipped into one of the narrow leather chairs in front of the desk. “As long as she floats, right? What could be better?”
“I can think of a few things.” Mike sneered.
“That’s because you can’t swim.” Benny tried to keep it light.
“You’re the one who can’t swim.” Mike shot back. “You make me look like Weissmuller.”
“Take it easy fellas. Let’s get back on track. I don’t got all day to jaw with you.” Tino was running low on patience. His supply was limited.
“Where are you gonna go?” Mike sneered.
Tino flashed hot. He wasn’t used to smart talk.
“Don’t jazz him, Mike.” Benny leaned forward in his chair and drew Tino’s gaze away from his partner. “We all suffered losses, Tino.”
“Some of us did.” Tino spat back.
“I hear you. I hear you.” Benny kept up the patter, his leg hopping up and down like a cricket. “Listen Tino, you know why we’re here. You got in touch with me. That kid you got out here? He looks right. I saw him three days ago at the Hollywood Legion. Is he the same kid that fought under the name Dakota City?”
“No.” Tino shook his head. “My guy used to go by the name the North Dakota Kid. He fought mostly in New Orleans though.”
“That’s our guy.” Mike broke in.
Benny turned and glared at Mike. “Is he our guy, Tino?”
Tino nodded. “He is your guy.”
“And we can talk to him?” Benny pulled a pack of good Cuban cigars out of his coat pocket and offered it to Tino. The gangster took one, but when Benny struck a match on the desktop and offered him a quick light. Tino didn’t take it.
“He’s not just your guy. He’s our guy.” Tino answered, then he reached into the middle drawer and took out his own lighter.
“ All right, all right.” Benny glanced at his partner. Mike shrugged. They had expected Tino to cut himself in. “Your guy’s that good?” Benny lit his cigar just as the match burned down.
“Maybe. You got a diver?” Tino puffed on his cigar and admired its smoke. Benny’s gift had hit the spot.
“I’m the diver.” Mike growled.
“Ha!” Tino exclaimed. “I believe it.” Tino put the lighter away in the drawer, but kept his hand in there, resting next to the Colt.
“Deal.” Benny stood up and offered Tino his hand, as if shaking on the deal was the only thing that would keep Tino from shooting them.
Tino didn’t move. He let Benny linger. “Too bad you can’t have the fight out here. I could make a lot of money on that action.”
“You know how it works. We gotta keep it small and hold it out near the switch.” Benny answered. He still had his hand out. He held it steady.
“Yeah, I know how it works.” Tino leaned forward and shook Benny’s hand. “Deal.” He said, then he half-stood up and offered his hand to Mike.
Mike stepped forward and shook it. “Deal.” He said.
Tino sat back down behind the desk and turned slightly to hit a button on the wall behind him. Panama poked his head in seconds later. The old man with the hook hand loomed in the background looking impatient to get back to his drawing.
“They’re goin’ down to see the Kid.” Tino barked at his men.
“Which kid?” Panama asked. “Dakota, Frisco, Petaluma…”
“The first one.” Tino interrupted before his flunky could finish.
“Got it. Come on.” Panama stepped back from the door and motioned for them to come out.
Benny stepped out right away, but Mike moved slower and kept his eyes on Tino. He even slid out the hatch backward. Panama bumped him hard as he came out and Mike jolted back a step.
“Sorry, bud.” Panama smiled and threw his hands up.
“Easy, Mike.” Benny spun around to try and intervene, he was too late.
Mike had Panama by the throat and throttled him until his hat fell off, his face turned red, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets. The old man with the hook hand didn’t move. He stood to the side watching like he was amused by the fat man’s suffering.
Benny intervened. He jumped on Mike and threw both of his hands around the big man’s thumb and pulled it back. He kept repeating “Easy Mike” over and over in a calm voice until it registered and Mike loosened his grip. Panama wriggled free and fell against the bulkhead chasing his breath.
“Easy Mike.” Benny said one last time.
“I got it.” Mike stretched himself out to his full height and exhaled deeply.
“You’re a real live wire.” Panama picked up his hat and put it back on his head. He put his smirk back on too. It was as if the gozzling hadn’t even registered.
“Shut up.” Mike said. He tossed a pack of cigarettes at Panama.
The fat guy caught them easy. He was quick. He took one out and lit it, then he handed the pack to the old man. The old man took one out too, then kept the pack.
“Let’s go see the kid.” Panama started off down the corridor. Mike and Benny went with him. The old man stayed behind.
The three men went through another door and then down a hatch onto the next deck. Sea water pooled on the floor and Panama led them on a circuitous path to keep their feet dry. In the distance, Mike made out the squeak of rubber on canvas and the thump-thump rhythm of heavy punches. Panama led them around a corner and they came upon a couple of Mexican janitors with mops and buckets. They fought a losing battle against the water that seeped into the leaky vessel, but they did not look defeated. They were smiling and one of them whistled a tune that Mike found vaguely familiar.
A few yards past the janitors, a door opened onto a cargo hold. The decks above it had been removed and it was open to the sky. A square tarp was suspended in the middle of the hole to protect against the weather. Directly under it, a rickety boxing ring had been built. It looked out of place among the rivets and steel.
Panama stopped in the doorway and gave them a second to take it in. Benny and Mike checked the layout. Rain had started falling and water dripped from the edges of the tarpaulin and landed with loud pings on the steel deck around the edges of the ring. The ring itself had seen better days. The humidity had taken its toll and the ropes were loose and the corner poles sagged.
“Good thing we can’t stage it here.” Benny muttered under his breath.
“You got that right.” Mike nodded in the direction of the ring. “Which one is he?”
“Who do you think?” Benny responded.
In the center of the ring, a white boxer with KID stenciled on his black shorts clenched with a black fighter too grey to be called a kid on any circuit. A short barrel-chested man in a white golf cap circled them both. He looked like a ref, but he wasn’t calling the fight. He coached the Kid with his motions. The Kid responded with a series of brisk punches. His opponent grunted hard after each of them.
In one corner of the ring, a bucket and stool were set up and a big guy stood there next to them. His eyes were bright and active like they had calculators in them. He clenched a cigar between his teeth and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his grey suit. Panama led them in the man’s direction. They passed a
card table where several bookies sat and watched. The denizens gave Mike and Benny the once over, then ignored them. When they came around to the corner where the big guy stood, he climbed over the ropes and hopped down right away. Panama nodded a greeting at him and thumbed in Benny and Mike’s direction. Other than that, Panama made no introductions. He turned and headed back the way he came, leaving Mike and Benny ringside with the man with the cigar. He rolled up on them like a cyclone.
“You must be Tino’s friends. I’ve been waiting for you. Did you get out here all right?” He was smiling now. “I’m Al…Al Lombardi.”
“Benny.” The little guy shook Al’s hand and matched his energy jolt for jolt. “The trip was no problem. The water-taxi is running despite the weather or the D.A.” Benny nudged him. Lombardi nudged back harder. Benny kept going. “This is my partner, Mike. He’s here to get a good look at the Kid.”” Benny rescued his hand from the big man’s grip and stepped aside to make room for Mike.
“Good to meet you, Mike. Glad to hear the boat’s are still coming.” Lombardi shook Mike’s hand, then squeezed his bicep. “You think you can take on the Kid?”
Benny stepped between them and did the talking. “Nothing’s settled. He’s just gonna practice with the Kid, make sure he knows how to throw the motions.”
“He knows. Trust me.” Lombardi reassured them. “What’s there to practice?” He sounded like he wanted to try the hustle himself some day.
“Practice makes everything easier.” Benny didn’t put much behind the answer. This was his grift and he wasn’t here to share it.
Al turned back to the fight. He watched as the Kid performed a series of intricate combinations on his sparring partner. The skinny old black fighter rolled with the punches like an expert, but Mike could tell he was itching to swing back. Mike hoped the old fighter would run out of patience and strike back while they were here to see it. The Kid finished another weak flurry, then stepped back. His opponent didn’t move forward. He waited for the Kid to catch his breathe.
Lombardi saw the pause and took advantage. He stopped the round with a booming shout. “Kid. They’re here. Come and meet the fellas.”
The Kid and his sparring partner knocked gloves with good-natured indifference and the Kid came over. He spit on the canvas when he got close and it landed near Benny and Lombardi and splashed up at them. Lombardi wiped his face on instinct. Benny didn’t flinch.
“Glad to meet you Kid.” Benny said. “You looked good out there.”
The Kid looked over Benny’s head at Mike who managed a respectful nod. The Kid replied in kind, then hopped out of the ring and walked up to Benny. Lombardi stayed out of the way off to the side, his eyes darting back and forth between them.
“You the promoters Tino told me about?” The Kid asked Benny. He decided that he didn’t want to talk to Mike.
“We heard you once did the fix out of Denver?” Benny got straight to the point.
The Kid grinned. He had a couple of front teeth missing and his smile made him look demented. “Yeah, I fought mostly out of New Orleans, but when I met that Judge, well, I had a good old time traveling with those boys. That Judge knew how to run an outfit. That’s certain.”
Benny glance sideways at Mike. Mike’s face had darkened. The Kid’s smile faded when he saw it and he wished he had kept the names to himself.
Benny glossed over the tension with good-natured patter. “This here’s Mike. He’ll be fightin’ you when we run it. We’ll be running it soon, out of town. You boys’ll need to practice in the meantime, not much, I mean, you look like you can handle yourself, but you boys should spar at least once. Get to know each other.”
The Kid turned on Mike and spat a question. “You always go by Mike?”
“No.” Mike didn’t rattle.
“You from Denver?” The Kid squared his shoulders and planted his feet.
Lombardi slid his hand into his pocket and kept his eyes on Mike. Mike stepped forward and cut in front of Lombardi to get nearer the Kid.
“Yeah, I’m the one from Denver.” Mike answered.
The action around the cargo hold stopped and the conversations ceased. All these people knew how to sense trouble, every last one of them. The janitors even stopped cleaning. They gripped their mops and kept their eyes open for trouble.
The Kid lapped up the tension. After a second, he broke the quiet with words that were barely loud enough to hear. “Glad to finally meet you.”
The exhales were audible and the background action went back to normal: the janitors got back to cleaning, the bookies started back up with the chatter, and the conmen kept on grifting.
Benny moved up next to the Kid and took his measure. “The Judge clued you in on this play, right? From beginning to end? All of it?”
“From the beginning to the end and from the end to the beginning. All of it.” The Kid bit into his right glove and untied it. He held it out for Benny to pull off.
“So you say.” Benny pulled off the glove and handed it back to him.
The Kid tucked it under his arm and took the left glove off on his own. “You want me to prove it to you here? Now?”
“Take it easy, kid.” Lombardi stepped up and patted his boxer on the shoulder.
Mike sensed something. The mood in the room shifted. Lombardi kept glancing at Mike and then away. Mike saw the reason on the other side of the cargo hold. A couple of toughs had ambled in and lingered in the damp shadows where the sun never reached. Mike knew there were people in the organization hated him. They missed the old man and resented Tino. Mike and Benny had tricked them all with a false ransom and they weren’t the types to let that go.
Lombardi offered Mike his hand. He wanted to shake on the deal and get himself and his fighter out of there. It was getting too hot for him. Mike didn’t take his hand. He wasn’t going to let him off that easy. Instead Mike stared over Lombardi’s shoulders at the trouble boys. He could see there hands fidgeting inside the deep pockets of their heavy coats.
“Jesus.” Lombardi muttered under his breath.
Benny had enough too. He said. “Let’s go.” Then turned on his heels and walked out.
Mike followed him, but he walked backward and kept his eyes focused on the heavy hitters. He didn’t turn around until he was back in the hallway. Mike caught up to Benny right outside the hold. The janitors were fighting a losing battle against the water and had the hall blocked with their mops and buckets. Mike and Benny had to wait for them. Mike took out his smokes and lit one. Benny swiped it from between Mike’s lips.
Mike lit another. “You knew that Kid came up with the Judge?”
“It matter?” Benny faltered a little.
“You’re lucky I like you.” Mike said.
“I’m lucky period.” Benny blew on the cherry at the end of his smoke. It gave him courage.
“That’s probably why I’m not throwing you over the side for blowing my cover.” Mike deadpanned it.
“You’re not throwing me over the side because this play is good and you know it.” Benny had his smirk back. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about the Judge. I’d worry about Lombardi. He’s gotta be bitter that Kid is walking away. He could be a wrinkle.”
“You want me to iron him out?” Mike was in the mood for it.
“Now? On the boat? No. Let’s see how it plays. He doesn’t look like one to muster much courage.”
“None of them do, but some of them manage.” Mike answered.
The janitors finally moved on to a different puddle and the way was clear. Mike and Benny moved along, but before they’d gone very far, Panama hopped into the passageway from a nearby cabin and stepped in front of them.
“Let me show you boys out.” Panama had an upbeat way of talking.
Mike looked at Benny. His friend looked tired. Otherwise Mike would have popped Panama in the mouth.
CHAPTER THREE
The return trip to Santa Monica took a lot less time than the trip out. The weather was c
almer and the waves had flattened out. Panama had made sure that Benny and Mike were the only passengers on board. He had escorted them all the way to the boat and they got on alone. As they motored away, Mike could see the two heavy hitters from the cargo hold leaning against the railing on the top deck and watching. He kept his eyes on them until they were black dots on the horizon.
In the water- taxi, the captain ignored them. Benny tried out his usual patter, but the seaman faced forward the whole trip and never turned once to greet them. Mike didn’t like that much. He clenched his fists and stepped close to the captain. Benny could tell where this was going and he put a hand on the Mike’s wrist and snapped him out of it.
“If we keep it together, I think it’s gonna work out.” Benny said.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I like the Kid. I think he can sell it.” Benny started getting wound up. “We know you can do it. Even at your age. You look the part.”
Mike interrupted him. “I think you’re turning the pages a little too fast.” Mike wasn’t in the mood for it, but he took a step back from the captain.
Benny shrugged and tossed his smoke out back of the passenger cabin. It landed on the damp wood deck and sizzled.
By the time they got back to Santa Monica, the sun was hovering on the horizon. Even right before sunset, it was bright. On the pier, a well-dressed crowd waited at the top of a walkway that led down to the landing where the boat would dock. They squinted into the sun and watched the water-taxi motored up.
Mike and Benny hopped out as soon as they docked. They were off before the deckhands had finished tying off the ropes, because the crowd had clicked on a switch inside of them. They knew a pack of drunken revelers of this class had sugar and plenty of it. Their wallets packed thick with gambling money.
Mike went first. He decided to jostle a few of them to give Benny an easier chance to strike. Benny didn’t need the help, but assisting would secure Mike a piece of the action, so he headed up the walkway with Benny right behind him. They got to the top and the old fellow at the gate let them out. Mike slid into the crowd first. He lowered his shoulder into one of the tuxedoed drunks and bumped him. The man spun slightly forward, but Benny was there to help him.
Fixed Fight (Mike Chance series Book 2) Page 2
