The Overlords & the Wild Ones

by Matt Braun

  “This isn’t your affair,” Cornwall said testily. “We’re discussing what’s best for the community. The people!”

  Durant stood. “Gentlemen, I think that concludes our business. Today or any other day.”

  “Wait now!” Baldwin sputtered. “We can still—”

  “No, we can’t,” Durant cut him short. “Ira, would you show these gentlemen the door?”

  Aldridge moved across the room and opened the door. Baldwin looked as though he was on the verge of saying something, but he was silenced by Durant’s dark scowl. The men trooped out of the office and Aldridge closed the door behind them. He turned back to Durant.

  “To paraphrase Lord Bolingbroke—the art of a politician is to disguise vice in a way that serves virtue.”

  “Who’s Lord Bolingbroke?”

  “An English nobleman,” Aldridge said. “He made that remark about two hundred years ago.”

  “You a student of history, Ira?”

  “Only where it concerns rascals and liars—like Herbie Cornwall.”

  Durant thought it went further. The Englishman’s remark, though he’d never heard it before, seemed to hit the mark for all of Galveston. Politicians, unscrupulous businessmen, and the mob.

  Vice disguised as virtue.

  Stoner kept one eye on the rearview mirror. He and Janice were approaching Houston, and he was still wary of being followed. His appointment with Captain Purvis was set for two o’clock.

  Earlier, on the telephone, Colonel Garrison had given him directions. The headquarters for the Ranger Company was located on the outskirts of the city, not far from Rice University. The single-story frame building was set back off the road, identified by a sign hung between stout posts. They pulled into the parking lot with time to spare.

  The reception room inside was manned by a sergeant and two orderlies. Stoner identified himself by name only, reluctant to say anything more until he’d spoken with Captain Purvis. The sergeant inspected Janice with a quick, appreciative glance, then disappeared into the back of the building. He returned shortly and led them down a hallway to a door without markings. He motioned them into an office.

  Captain Hardy Purvis rose from behind his desk. A tall man, he was in his early forties, with angular features and sparse ginger hair. He had served with distinction in the Ranger Batallion posted along the Rio Grande during the war in Europe. His promotion to captain was the result of breaking a German spy ring operating out of Mexico and infiltrating agents across the border. He was known in the Rangers as an officer who went by the book.

  “Come in, Stoner,” he said, waiting for the sergeant to close the door. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “Captain,” Stoner said by way of acknowledgment. “I’d like you to meet Janice Overton. She’s working with me on the Galveston case.”

  “Miss Overton.” Purvis gestured them to chairs before his desk. “Colonel Garrison gave you quite a recommendation. He said you volunteered for the job.”

  “Actually, I got drafted,” Janice said with a coy smile. “I think I was the only girl Clint knew who was crazy enough to go undercover.”

  “I see.” Purvis seemed uncertain how to take her flippant manner. He turned to Stoner. “The colonel tells me you insisted that I not be informed of this operation. Why was that?”

  “Mostly for security, Cap’n,” Stoner said frankly. “I was told the mobsters in Galveston don’t take prisoners. Seemed like the fewer who knew, the better.”

  “In other words, you were concerned there might be leaks out of my office. Do I hear you right?”

  “No, sir, not just exactly. I figured it was safer—for Janice and me—if everything was kept on the q.t.”

  “You’re giving me the runaround, Sergeant. I’d like a straight answer.”

  Stoner cocked his head. “How long have you been trying to shut down Galveston?”

  “Over a year,” Purvis snapped. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Well, Cap’n, we’ve been there a little over two weeks. So far, one gangster’s been killed, and another one killed a civilian in a speakeasy. Galveston’s a dangerous place.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “I guess the point’s pretty simple. Janice and me are at risk every day we’re working undercover. I like the odds better if nobody knows we’re there.”

  Purvis knotted his brow in irritation. “Sergeant, I don’t like anyone working my district without my knowledge. Just to be frank about it, I don’t give a damn what your reason is.”

  “I understand, sir,” Stoner said in a level voice. “Maybe you ought to talk with Colonel Garrison.”

  A dark look came over Purvis. He had spoken with Garrison at length on the telephone that morning. Garrison told him in no uncertain terms that he endorsed Stoner’s plan for the raid on the Hollywood Club. Purvis was to be in nominal command, Garrison said, but Stoner would call the shots on the raid. The order, though tactfully phrased, was nonetheless an order.

  Janice watched the byplay with a secret smile. She knew the score, and she knew that Sergeant Stoner was politely reminding Captain Purvis of who was in charge. On the phone that morning, Stoner had presented his case in the strongest possible terms, pointedly noting that it was his and Janice’s lives at stake. His arguments were short of insubordination, but he’d insisted that he control the operation. Garrison, impressed by his plan, had finally agreed.

  “Let’s move on,” Purvis said in an attempt to save face. “Colonel Garrison said you’ve worked out a plan for a raid. Tell me about it.”

  “Yessir,” Stoner said with just the proper note of respect. “You’ve seen the inside of the club, right?”

  “Several times.”

  “Then you know how they control those doors. The one into the lounge and the one beyond that into the casino.”

  “Of course,” Purvis said impatiently. “They slow us down until, by the time we get there, the gaming devices have disappeared. I’m waiting for you to tell me how they do it.”

  “I don’t have any idea,” Stoner said. “That’s the whole point of setting up the raid.”

  “Wait a minute, I’m missing something here. Are you telling me you haven’t figured out how they get rid of the gaming equipment?”

  “Yessir, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Judas Priest!” Purvis barked. “You don’t know any more about the casino than I do. Garrison led me to believe you have a plan. A foolproof plan.”

  Stoner wagged his head. “Captain, I don’t know that anything’s foolproof. But I’d have to say this comes pretty close.”

  A moment elapsed in turgid silence. Purvis abruptly realized that Garrison had purposely withheld critical information. He’d been painted into a corner and subtly placed at the command of a sergeant. He took a slow, deep breath.

  “All right, Sergeant,” he said in a resigned tone. “Let’s hear your plan.”

  “Works like this, Cap’n,” Stoner said, watching him closely. “Janice and I will be in the casino Friday night. You and your men pull a raid at nine sharp. Any problem with the timing?”

  “No problem at all. Go ahead.”

  “Your raid’s the key to the whole thing. They’ll slow you down and do whatever they do to make the casino disappear. But this time, Janice and I will be there to see how it happens.”

  “Won’t work,” Purvis said. “We have to catch the gaming devices in actual operation. Otherwise we can’t make an arrest.”

  “That’s the second step,” Stoner informed him. “You and your men will pull another raid Saturday night.”

  “Saturday night?”

  “Yessir, at ten o’clock on the button. Voight and Quinn will never expect you to hit the place two nights in a row. We’ll catch them with their pants down.”

  “No, I’m sure they won’t,” Purvis said. “But what does that accomplish? We still have to catch them in the act of operating gaming tables.”

  “You will, Cap�
��n.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “I’m going to hold the casino till you and your men get there.”

  “Are you?” Purvis scoffed. “How do you propose to do that?”

  Stoner grinned like a jack-o’-lantern, and told him.

  Chapter Twenty

  A crescent moon hung like a crooked lantern in a velvet sky. The Gulf was calm under a light breeze, the tide lapping gently against the shoreline. Silvery beams of starlight skipped and skittered across the dark waters.

  Libbie waited in her Chevy coupe. The car was parked at a sheltered cove five miles west of the amusement piers. The spot was a short distance off the road and overlooked the white sand of a moonlit beach. Hers was the only car at the cove.

  The call that morning from Nolan had been a godsend. She was still infuriated with her father, and hadn’t spoken to him since their argument yesterday morning. Yet her concern was for Jack, and the deeper fear that her father had reported him to Quinn and Voight. She was worried for his safety.

  A car pulled in behind her, quickly cut the headlights. She looked around and saw Nolan step out of his Stutz Bearcat, his features visible in the faint cast of the moon. He glanced back at the road, as though assuring himself they wouldn’t be seen, and then walked around the side of her car. He slipped into the passenger seat.

  “Hi there, gorgeous,” he said lightly, cupping a hand behind her neck. “Been waiting long?”

  “All my life.”

  His touch was like fire against her skin. She scooted across the seat, into his open arms, and he enfolded her in an embrace. She kissed him fiercely, wriggling to get closer, her breasts pressed against the holstered gun beneath his suit jacket. She didn’t care about the gun, or who he was, or what he might have done. She never wanted to let go.

  They finally parted, slightly breathless, his mouth smeared with lipstick. “Damn,” he said with a jester’s smile. “I think maybe you missed me.”

  “Don’t you dare kid,” she said, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “Tell you the truth, I felt the same way. How’s things with you and your dad?”

  “After yesterday, we aren’t speaking. Has he said anything to your bosses?”

  “No, not directly.” Nolan hesitated, suddenly somber. “He sent the message through Monsignor O’Donnell. Quinn got called on the carpet this morning.”

  “What!” She sat up, rigid with shock. “He told Monsignor O’Donnell about us? About our—?”

  “The whole kit and caboodle. Quinn even heard about the hotel in Houston.”

  “The son of a bitch! I can’t believe he’s my father. Why didn’t he just take an ad in the newspaper?”

  “Didn’t need to,” Nolan allowed. “Monsignor O’Donnell evidently read the riot act to Quinn. I got the story first hand, loud and clear.”

  “What happened?” she said, a little hitch in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

  A wayward thought flashed through Nolan’s mind. Her father was yet another reason why he wouldn’t kill Durant, perhaps the best reason. There was revenge of sorts in letting Durant continue to frustrate the old bastard. He liked the idea, a lot.

  “Jack, didn’t you hear me? Are you in trouble?”

  “I was,” Nolan said, wishing he could tell her the truth about her father. “Quinn and Voight raked me over the coals pretty good. We finally came to an agreement.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, looking at him. “What kind of agreement?”

  “I took a blood oath I’d never see you again. Told them we were finished.”

  “You’re not serious!”

  “On my honor.”

  “But you’re here.”

  Nolan smiled. “I lied like a dog.”

  “Tell me it’s true,” she said, staring into his eyes. “Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

  “I’ll never leave you, and that is the honest-to-God’s truth. What was it you said once, kismet? We’re stuck with one another.”

  “Oh, Jack!” She hugged him desperately. “I love you so much. You just don’t know.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Nolan said softly. “It’s the same for me.”

  “Is it, you mean it? You’ll never take it back?”

  “Never in a month of Sundays. You’ve got me hooked.”

  “Good Lord!” Her features went taut. “I just happened to think. What will Quinn and Voight do if they find out?”

  “That’s not an option,” Nolan said seriously. “We have to be damn careful from now on. Double damn careful.”

  “But we can’t sneak around like this all the time. The Island’s too small, and there are too many busybodies. We’re bound to be seen.”

  “I’m already working on it. I’ll think of something.”

  “Jack.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Make love to me.”

  “In a car?”

  “Yes, dammit!” she said in a husky voice. “I need you.”

  Nolan hadn’t done it in a car since he was in high school. Though the seat made it awkward, they managed to stretch out just enough by opening the door. She loosened her garter belt and slipped off her panties, and he fumbled his pants down. She took him in a rush of emotion, pulling him deep inside, and they both peaked within moments. When they finished, spent and breathing hard, she clung to him, unwilling to let go. She whispered in his ear.

  “Jack.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Next time bring a blanket.”

  “What for?”

  “Silly,” she said, kissing him tenderly. “We’ll do it on the beach.”

  “The beach?” he said doubtfully. “Won’t that be a little sandy?”

  “Well, good-lookin’, we’re definitely going to make love. So it’s the beach or the car. Which would you prefer?”

  “I’ll bring the blanket.”

  They decided to leave ten minutes apart. After they were dressed, she walked him to his car. He took her in his arms, holding her a moment in a snug embrace, then stepped back. He looked down at her in the moonlight.

  “One last thing, and it’s important.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ve got to convince your dad we’re finished. You can’t let on we’re playing for time.”

  She laughed wickedly. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll convince him.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sweetheart mine, I’m very sure.”

  “Good, give me a kiss for luck.”

  She kissed him soundly on the mouth. “When will I see you again?”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Delmonte’s was one of the finer restaurants in Galveston. A family-owned establishment, it was off the beaten path, and seldom frequented by tourists. The clientele was composed primarily of Islanders who appreciated fine food.

  Durant had a reservation. Earlier, at the bank, he’d asked Aldridge to recommend a restaurant for a special occasion. He declined to elaborate even when the older man gave him a questioning look, but Aldridge nonetheless told him of Delmonte’s. All that afternoon he had avoided talking with Catherine, and just before closing time, he’d invited her to dinner. She readily accepted.

  The special occasion Durant had in mind was an ending. Alone, sequestered in his office, he’d spent the afternoon deliberating his future. He knew the mob would attempt to kill him, and for every attempt that failed, there would be others. His refusal to run was a mixture of pride and anger, and the knowledge that he couldn’t live with himself if he turned tail. All that said, he now viewed his prospects with a degree of fatalism. Yet he would not allow fear to make him a coward.

  Which left the matter of Catherine. He felt he had at last found a woman who interested him and kindled a depth of affection he’d never known with other women. Those feelings led inevitably to the realization that every time they were together, he placed her life in jeopardy. There was no absolute that the mob wouldn’t try to
kill him when he was with her, and however inadvertently, catch her in the crossfire. That was a risk he was unwilling to take, one he would never ask her to share. He planned to end their relationship tonight.

  The service at Delmonte’s was impeccable. They were shown to a cozy booth, where the table was appointed with linen and fine crystal. A waiter materialized to fill their water glasses and present a basket of freshly baked bread. He nodded approvingly when Catherine selected the braised squab, and all but shrugged when Durant ordered a rib-eye steak. Dinner began with a delicate squash soup, followed by salad.

  Durant played on Catherine’s fascination with motion pictures. He subtly led her into a conversation about some of the more bizarre stunts he’d been involved with, dwelling on humorous mishaps that went with the job. From there, he easily prompted her questions about movie stars, particularly glamorous women, and their madcap eccentricities. He kept it light and entertaining, a last dinner she would remember with fondness. He intended to end it when he took her home.

  A story about Gloria Swanson, just as Catherine finished her squab, brought tears of laughter to her eyes. She dabbed away the tears with her napkin, her cheeks flushed with happiness, and calmed herself with a sip of water. She looked at him across the table, still smiling, and shook her head with amusement. He thought he’d never seen her more radiant.

  “All right, now,” she said, composing herself. “You’ve kept me in stitches long enough for one night. I want to hear what happened with Jack Nolan.”

  Durant tried to shrug it off. “Another harebrained idea that went nowhere. There’s nothing much to tell.”

  “No?” Her gaiety of a moment ago suddenly vanished. “Then why is Mr. Aldridge so desperate for you to leave town?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Earl, he’s worried to death about you. He said he argued himself hoarse and you wouldn’t listen. He asked me to talk with you.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” Durant said, sloughing it off. “Ira’s jumping at shadows.”

  She studied him intently. “You’re not telling me the truth, are you? There’s something more.”