They woke at sunrise and didn’t linger. They took the Chevy and drove it back down to the pier. When they got there, they circled around the lot sitting low in the sedan with their eyes wide open. They didn’t see a thing. On their third pass through the lot, Mike slowed down and Benny hopped out. He lingered for a moment where Mike had dropped him, then moseyed out onto the pier where the early-riser fisherman crowded along the railings and cast their first lines of the day. Benny joined them, but leaned against the rail facing away from the ocean so he could keep his eyes on the cars that drove into the parking lot.
Mike drove away up the steep incline to the top of the bluff. No one followed him, so he parked the car and took the rickety wooden staircase that led down the incline to the pier. Before he got out of the car, Mike took the Red 9 out of his pocket and checked the clip. He knew why the Judge was looking for him and he knew the old man would never let it go.
Mike didn’t even disagree with the old man. Mike knew he had it coming. He didn’t want to die for what he did, but Mike knew he deserved it. The Judge had taken him off the street back in Colorado and given him a chance to learn. The old man had trusted Mike and, if Mike had followed the old man’s rules, he would be on top today. But Mike couldn’t hold himself together.
He fell apart one night when a tough kid pushed him too far. They were playing pool in the old man’s parlor and the kid got in Mike’s head with a load of chatter. The headache came on right after, but the kid didn’t let up. He kept it up and Mike made him pay for it. When it was over, there was blood on the ceiling and the kid was dead and Judge gave his verdict on the spot. Mike was lucky to get out alive. He had to blast his way to a third floor window and jump for it.
Mike snapped himself out of it and shook his head clear. He slid the automatic into his waistband and got out of the Chevy. He didn’t like it when his mind wandered and he pinched himself hard as a reminder before he climbed the staircase down to the pier. He didn’t need to check his watch to know he’d lost some time, so he picked up his pace and hopped down the stairs, keeping a hand to his waist to secure his weapon. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was armed. He didn’t want to have to kill someone for noticing.
By the time Mike got to the pier, the water-taxi had arrived. Benny gave Mike a reproachful look for taking so long. Mike responded by stealing the cigarette from between Benny’s lips. Below them the boat docked and the crew hurried about preparing for the next trip. They were running late. The reason staggered off while Mike was watching. It was the captain and he was drunk. A dockhand had to grab his sleeve to keep him from falling.
Benny nudged Mike in the ribs and pointed at the passengers that milled on the stairs that led down to the dock. The gamblers and classy crowd had yet to assemble. This first load of passengers consisted of trouble boys in a hurry – no boss likes it when you’re late for work. A few got nervous and shook the metal gate at the bottom of the stairs. If they were late, Tino wouldn’t care that it had been locked.
The Kid disembarked next. He was carrying a small canvas duffle and he waved at them as he hopped off the boat. He stopped at the gate and hugged the old man, then bounded up the stairs like he was going to hug them too. The look on their faces stopped him cold, but didn’t dampen his enthusiasm.
“You ready to go a couple rounds?” The Kid flashed a smile with a couple of teeth missing and shook hands with Mike. The Kid had big hands. Mike didn’t look forward to getting hit by them.
“You know that guy?” Mike motioned down at the old sailor at the gate.
“Not really.” The Kid answered, still smiling.
“Then what’re you hugging him for?”
“Just saying hello.” The Kid sounded weak. Mike wondered if this was kindness.
“We parked up the hill. Do you mind walking?” Benny asked. It was his turn to shake hands now and his hand disappeared inside the Kid’s mitt.
“No problem. I’ve been out on that boat too long. I’ll enjoy walking on something steady.” The Kid was happy about everything. Mike started to feel uneasy.
“Then let’s get to it.” Benny reached up and patted the Kid on the back.
Mike led the way with his right hand jammed in his coat pocket holding his pistol. The Kid followed close behind Mike with Benny going last. When he came to the wooden staircase that led up the cliff, Mike looked back and saw an old Ford idling near the end of the pier. Two guys in pulled-down hats watched them. Benny followed Mike’s gaze and saw them too. Mike picked up the pace.
At the top of the stairs, Mike looked back again. The Ford wasn’t by the pier anymore. Mike figured it was driving around to come cut them off. The Kid finally noticed something was wrong by the way Mike was looking around. After that. He stayed close. Mike was reassured by that. The Kid had half a brain at least.
When they got to the car, Mike jumped behind the wheel and put the Red 9 on his lap. Benny slid in next to him and rested his right arm on the window. He had a small silver .25 in his hand and dangled it barely hidden behind the door. The Kid saw the weapons and didn’t say a word. He had seen the guns come out before. He had been in the fight game for a long time. If he had second thoughts, he didn’t give a hint of them. He got in the car, sat back, and waited.
Mike started up the Chevy and pulled out of the parking lot and onto Ocean Boulevard heading south. The Pacific was on their right. As he pulled into traffic, Mike looked over his shoulder. The Ford was coming up right behind them. Mike hit the gas and swerved onto Colorado.
Before Mike straightened out the car, the windshield shattered. Mike saw the shooter right away: a man in a black hat standing on the curb in front of them. He held his pistol with both hands and had his arms extended like a marksman. Another bullet hit the seat between them. Benny slouched down. The Kid got on the floor before the echo of the first shot had cleared. He was quick by nature.
Mike swerved across the road and almost lost control of the car, but the tires held and he headed straight for the shooter. A third bullet hit the roof of the car above Mike and the ricochet caught him on the shoulder. The bullet barely penetrated his coat, but he could feel hot lead burn his skin. Another bullet slammed into the seat, but Mike stayed on course and the Chevy roared toward the shooter. The man got off one last shot, but missed badly. Then he turned to run. It was too late.
The Chevy hopped the low curb, hit him and crushed him against the ground. The fender cut him in half. When the Chevy rolled over the legs and torso, Mike lost control. He slammed on the brakes, but the wheels got no traction and the car skidded into a light pole. It dragged the pole a couple of feet into the bushes and rolled to a stop.
Mike fell out of the car with the Red 9 at the ready. He pointed it everywhere he looked, but saw no targets. Benny climbed out of the car behind him and jumped the white picket fence of a nearby house. Mike got up to follow Benny, but the Ford swerved around the corner. Mike knew he couldn’t make the fence in time, so he stood his ground and fired bullet after bullet into the windshield of the oncoming car. Bullets whizzed past from behind. Benny had joined in to give him cover.
Someone scored a hit and the Ford lost control and clipped a large milk truck. There was an eruption of glass and white liquid. Mike ran towards the accident. A cloud of steam shot out of the Ford’s engine and the driver’s side door popped open. A chubby man in a bloodstained blue suit dropped out of the car. A bullet had taken a chunk out of his face below his check bone. Still he came up firing.
Mike didn’t break stride. He shot the chubby man in the chest and it knocked him backward onto the hood of the car. Mike shot him two more times as he lay there. The gunshots cleared out background noise and the street got quiet. Mike heard moaning coming from inside the car. As he got close to the passenger door, it opened and a man in a white tee shirt and black pants rolled out onto the ground. There was a dent in his skull and blood flowed from his ears, but he had some life left in him. He tried to save it by crawling under the car, but Mi
ke didn’t allow him his pathetic shelter. He grabbed him by the ankle, pulled him out, and shot him in the head.
There were sirens now, but Mike took a moment to check the car. He didn’t see anything right away, so he leaned in and opened the glove box. It was empty and the approaching sirens were getting louder. Mike took heed and walked away. Benny waited for him by their wrecked Chevy. He was leaning over and staring into the backseat. Mike joined him and looked inside. The Kid lay there and he was down for the count. A ricochet had nicked the big artery in his neck and the blood puddled around him looked to be an inch deep. Benny stood there arms akimbo. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
“We gotta go. We gotta go.” Mike grabbed Benny by the elbow and pulled Benny down to the alley behind 2nd Street.
The sirens got louder, but they didn’t run. That would attract too much attention. Halfway down the alley, they came to a wide gap between the buildings and they darted in and hid until they caught their breathe. Before they emerged, they pulled themselves together, tucked their guns into their waistbands, and straightened their clothes.
They came out of the alley into a small broken asphalt parking lot. There were several cars parked there. Closest to them was an old ’29 Ford Fordor. It was idling and there was a black man in a chauffeur’s outfit standing at the driver’s door with one foot in the car and his right hand resting on the roof. His passenger was nowhere in sight. Mike went around the front of the car. Benny went around back. The driver saw them and could tell by the look on their faces that they meant business. He put his hands up calmly and stepped back from the car. Mike stepped past him and got behind the wheel. Benny got in too. The whole transaction took five seconds and they were gone.
Benny and Mike drove for while without speaking. Benny broke the silence when they turned onto a busy street and the traffic slowed them down.
“Tino’s not gonna be happy about this.” He said.
“Neither is Frisby. And we gotta see him first.” Mike shot back.
Benny frowned and lit another cigarette. “We’re gonna need another fighter.”
“This town is full of them.” Mike shrugged.
“We gonna run in to one before we see Frisby?” Benny tried to laugh, but the sound he made was more like choking.
“If we do, I’ll pull right over.” Mike said.
Benny saw a squad car coming right at them and slumped low in his seat. Mike kept his face forward. The officers sped by without even slowing down.
CHAPTER NINE
By the time they got to the Hollenbeck Hotel, it was dusk and traffic choked Spring street. Rows of electric cables crisscrossed above them. They looked like the wires of a cage. Mike drove past the hotel. He and Benny rolled around the block three more times. They stalked the hotel and its environs. When they decided it was okay to stop, they ditched the car about a block away from the hotel on the same side of the street. They backtracked separately.
Benny moved up the sidewalk toward the main entrance, while Mike peeled off and started to cross Spring street through the heavy traffic. He glared at the drivers to slow down, but they ignored him. It took a couple of stop-starts before he made it across.
The sidewalk was busy when Mike got there and he swiveled his head back and forth to try and pick out any threats in the crowd. Mike watched for cars too, especially the ones that puttered near the curb. Across the street Benny did the same, but he also stopped every ten feet or so to take a broad slow glance behind them. He saw nothing. The coast stayed clear.
By the time Mike was across from the hotel, he trailed a few feet behind Benny who was already drifting past the entrance. The little guy didn’t go in. Instead he turned down Second and walked the length of the hotel. Mike stood tall and watched Benny move slowly to the back of the building and disappear around the corner.
Mike changed his focus to the front door. An old lady in a black dress and veil appeared in the entryway like an apparition and looked both ways before she picked her way down the steps to the street. Mike didn’t think she was trouble, but he took a long look. You could never put it past anyone in this business.
Mike lit a smoke, turned away from the old lady, and walked to the end of the street. He got there just as Benny came around the corner and ambled up the street. Mike crossed the street and met Benny on the sidewalk at the corner of the hotel.
“Look good?” Mike asked.
“No trouble.” Benny shrugged and took the cigarette from Mike’s mouth. He used it to light his own, then tossed it away.
“Then let’s get this over with.” Mike said.
Benny nodded in agreement and they headed toward the hotel in lockstep. When they got there, they paused on the bottom step. They had no boxer, but everything else was already in motion. Money had been spent. Mike raised his eyebrows in the way of a question. Benny answered by shrugging and starting up the stairs. Mike took one last look back and then followed his partner into the hotel. They had no choice but to go forward. The grift had its own momentum.
The lobby of the Hollenbeck Hotel had a high vaulted ceiling and a number of planter baskets hung from it at the end of thick chains. The ferns in these pots were half dead, choked by the tobacco smoke that had stained once bright walls yellow. At a bar that ran along the back wall, a row of well-dressed men stood and drank. They gave a brief look over at Benny and Mike when they walked in, but the looks didn’t linger. Benny and Mike didn’t draw attention to themselves.
Benny stood in the entryway and scanned the lobby. They saw Frisby right away. He sat in a deep chair in a corner that faced the door. He was easy to spot. Abnormally skinny and so tall he had to fold himself in half to sit down, he wore big round spectacles and had a tattered brown bowler perching oddly on his head. He looked low rent, except for a diamond and gold tie pin that glimmered in the middle of his chest.
When Frisby saw them, he started stretching himself out of his chair. By the time he was done, he stood close to seven feet tall and rail thin. Mike figured his bones were brittle and that made Mike want to break him. Mike shook the thought out of his head.
“Good to see you boys. Good to see you.” Frisby had a nervous way of talking. He often said things twice. Mike figured it for an act. Frisby was a scarecrow with a brain.
“You make it all right?” Benny did the asking. He could feign concern with ease.
“No problem from where I was comin’, I came in clean from where I was comin’.” Frisby kept shaking his head. Mike thought his eyes might fall out.
“You sure?” Mike’s words had sharp edges.
Frisby froze for a split second, then started up again with the shaking and the two-times-talk. “I’m sure. I’m sure.” Frisby turned to Benny.
The little shark had a smile waiting for him. “You gotta place we can talk?” Benny’s words were smooth.
“Yeah, come on.” Frisby took Benny by the elbow and steered him toward the front door.
“You’re not in this hotel?” Mike asked the back of Frisby’s head. Frisby ignored him and kept walking.
“Where we headed?” Benny rephrased Mike’s question.
“My car.” Frisby answered. He only said it once.
They made their way to the front door and left. Mike looked over his shoulder as he did. He didn’t pick up any action. Frisby was clear.
“Which way?” Benny asked as they stepped out the front door.
Frisby motioned up the sidewalk. Benny nodded and pulled away from them. His eyes darted this and that way quick. Mike came up behind them and half-pushed Frisby along.
Frisby knew right away there was trouble. Frisby had smelled it on them as soon as they had walked into the hotel. Now he had no doubt and he adjusted to the tension. He picked up his pace and pointed Benny toward a dark brown Cord 810 parked at the curb halfway down the block.
They moved fast and the people that saw them coming got out of their way. A cop saw Mike jostle a bystander and took a step to intervene, but he hesitated when
he saw the trio and turned away. He opted for the no-trouble.
When they got within a few yards of the Cord, Benny reached back to get the keys from Frisby. Frisby didn’t pass them. He kept them gripped in his hand and headed for the driver’s seat. Mike moved to stop him, but a glance from Benny kept him back. Mike shrugged and reached for smokes. He would need one if he was going for a ride.
Frisby got behind the wheel and started the car. Benny made it to the passenger seat as Frisby put the car in gear. Mike came last and had to jump into the backseat. The car had started moving. Before Mike could even close the door, Frisby had taken a hard right turn down the alley and hit the gas. The Cord bounced on the rough asphalt, but Frisby didn’t slow down. He took a quick left onto 3rd street. When he had to slow down for traffic, he started up with the questions.
“What and how bad?” Frisby asked
“We lost the boxer.” Benny sold it with a smile.
Frisby didn’t buy it. “How do you lose a boxer?”
“Well, it’s a long story…” Benny weaseled.
Mike interrupted. “He got shot. By mistake. This morning.”
“You shoot him?” Frisby didn’t sound angry. He seemed mildly curious.
“No.” Mike and Benny answered at the same time.
“The person that shot him gonna try and shoot you?” Frisby faced forward and chewed his gums, mulling it over.
“Maybe.” Benny answered that one.
“They gonna miss you and hit me?” Frisby asked the question to buy time to think.
“Maybe.” Benny shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t think his answer would matter much to Frisby. Frisby had made investments. Danger was just one more factor in their line of business.
“I put in a lot of time. I got a lot of time in this.” Frisby stared straight ahead and focused on the road. He didn’t make eye contact with either of them.
Fixed Fight (Mike Chance series Book 2) Page 8
