by Gene P. Abel
New York City Hall loomed across the town square before them. Wide stone steps led up to the ornate, symmetrical two-story structure with a clock tower rising high from the middle front. The grand structure that looked part palace presided proudly over the city. The 1919 version of the building had 3D window shades that jutted out from several windows, shades that were missing from the modern version of the structure.
The team gathered underneath the overhang of a building across the street, at first doing little more than watching the crowds milling about the square and coming from and going into city hall, Harris and Hessman keeping an eagle eye out for any faces in the surging crowd that might spark some interest.
“About twenty cops that I can see,” Agent Hessman reported after a few minutes, “but that’s to be expected. Sue, what do you see?”
Agent Harris lifted up the front brim of her large floppy hat that she had pulled partially down over her eyes, her gaze fixing on clumps of men here and there who were hovering around the grand building before them. She reported, “Two groups of three men each to either side of the top steps who haven’t moved in about the last ten minutes, a few scattered around the square who have been reading the same page in their newspapers for at least as long, a doorman next to the entry with a gun-shaped bulge in his pants, and a few others that stick out for how hard they’re trying to be a part of the background . . . I’d say about thirty plainclothes.”
“It looks like you may be right, Lou,” Captain Beck remarked quietly. “That’s a lot of security for normal day-to-day operations.”
“The meeting’s here, all right.” Agent Hessman nodded. “And since it doesn’t look like the dignitaries have arrived yet, we may be able to lay a trap for our competitors.”
Claire glanced over City Hall Square, saw only the crowded masses of people coming and going, and shook her head. “Assuming those are federal agents out there that Sue’s looking at,” she stated, “and if this thing is as serious as you make it out to be, then why not just identify yourselves to the other agents for some backup? If you’re right about the president coming here, I’m sure they’d be glad to cooperate.”
Before Agent Hessman could reply, Professor Stein whispered a quick answer. “Not possible, Claire, and don’t ask us to explain.”
“Yeah, it’s a shadow war,” she scoffed. “And even the shadows don’t know what’s going on.”
Partially ignoring what the reporter had to say, Agent Hessman began plotting with Agent Harris and Captain Beck, while Dr. Weiss pulled his bowler hat a little lower over his face as he hugged back to the shadows.
“Getting inside shouldn’t be a problem,” Agent Hessman was saying. “Front door like everyone else, then we just look for wherever the general public is not being admitted and pick out some good spots to wait them out.”
“Who do you think we’ll be seeing?” Captain Beck asked. “The German team or the Japanese?”
“German, I’d say,” Agent Harris said. She gave a slight tip of her hat to signal about something across the square. “In that I think that’s one of them over there, if I remember the dossiers correctly.”
“Gimme a minute to confirm,” Agent Hessman told her.
She stepped in front of him while he discreetly pulled out his portable computer. After a quick scan through the list of faces of possible German team members accompanied by a couple of glances toward the man she had pointed out, he tucked the device back into his coat pocket.
“Make that three,” he reported. “Sue’s and two more I’ve identified. Ernst Fischer, Klaus Weber, and Otto Wagner.”
“I see them,” Agent Harris said after a moment, “but who are those other people they’re talking to?”
The three Germans in question were slowly making their way across the square toward the large stone steps, while other men in suits and bowler hats who had been discussing something with them spread out.
“Could be local help,” Agent Hessman reasoned. He then stepped toward where Claire and Professor Stein were standing, caught their eyes, and gave a slight nod in the direction of the Germans. “Our German friends seem to have picked up a few friends. Anyone someone recognizes?”
The professor studied the ones Agent Hessman had indicated and was trying to figure out how he could consult his pocket history computer without Claire seeing anything, when Claire spoke up. “I recognize a few of them from the local crime gangs. Fifth Street Brawlers, I think. They’ll do anything for money.”
“That sounds about right,” Professor Stein agreed. “From what I know of the subject, there are a lot of small gangs in the city competing with one another.”
“So the Germans paid them off,” Agent Hessman picked up, “and these Brawlers are only too eager for the extra cash and anything else that’ll get them ahead of their competitors.”
“That’s extra manpower we’ll be up against,” Captain Beck said. “Could turn into quite the shooting war.”
“Not if we take out the Germans first,” Agent Harris countered. “With no one to pay them, the gang members would have no reason to stick around.”
“Then let’s get them before anything else happens,” Agent Hessman ordered, “but remember to keep it very discreet. You just have to knock them out, and then”—he paused to give a look to Claire, who let out an exasperated sigh as she rolled her eyes skyward, then brought up her hands to cover both ears tightly—“send them back with their own beacons. No need to kill if we don’t have to.”
“And whichever way it turns out, don’t get caught doing anything,” Agent Harris completed. “Got it.”
Professor Stein elbowed Claire as a signal that she could now uncover her ears.
“Okay, no rushing, just keep it steady and no direct charging,” Agent Hessman instructed. “Sue, if you spot anyone else from those dossiers, handle them. We’ll take down the ones we’ve already spotted.”
“Why does this sound like I’m about to be at the epicenter of a small gang war?” Claire remarked.
They were just stepping out into the square when Dr. Weiss pulled suddenly at Agent Hessman’s jacket. “Lou, look.”
Driving into the square, accompanied by a scattering of more police on motorcycles of the era, came a line of cars. With white-walled tires, dignified lines, high-roofed cabins, and black paint jobs, the Cadillacs drove up to the steps of city hall as the crowd parted before them. Agent Hessman held back as they waited to see who would come out of the vehicles.
“Looks like the dignitaries arriving,” Agent Hessman reasoned. “Ben, who’s who?”
The first to step out was blocked from view by both the vehicle and the hat he wore as he exited from the far side of the car with his attendants.
“Can’t see him,” Professor Stein reported.
The man was ushered up the steps by a couple of plainclothesmen as the car drove away. As the next car in line pulled up, Agent Harris directed everyone through the crowd to get a better vantage point, just as she could see the German team was likewise doing. By the time the dignitary from the second car was exiting, Professor Stein had a good enough view of his face. He was a distinguished-looking man with a neatly trimmed if bushy beard and mustache.
“That’s him,” he reported excitedly, for a moment forgetting the reporter was within hearing range. “I recognize him from some old photos. That’s Congressman Lodge.”
“If he’s here, then this is definitely the place where President Wilson’s coming,” Agent Hessman stated. “Good work, Ben. So the Germans want to take out the congressman so that the United States enters the league? No, that doesn’t sound right.”
“Maybe they’re here to kill the president as revenge for the war,” Claire suggested.
“That almost makes more sense than killing the congressman,” Agent Hessman muttered. “No, there’s something else.”
They started adva
ncing through the crowd once again, while ahead of them the three Germans and some of their gang allies did likewise in an effort to get to the front steps. Agent Harris wove more quickly through the crowd in an effort to sneak up on the Germans before she could be spotted. As the second car left, a third car driving up paused long enough for her to push her way through to one of the gang members in the bowler hats and grab the back of his neck. “Klaus, old friend,” she said in a congenial tone. “Why, did you know that I can snap your neck before any of your friends here can react? Now why don’t you tell us what brings you to town?”
The others with him looked ready to pile into her, but they paused when the German raised a hand to them. He didn’t even turn to look at her but merely stood still as she held his neck. “You don’t know what’s going on, Agent—”
“First names only, please. You know why.”
“Very well; Sue, then. Yes, we know of you. I assume this is all about to get rather messy then?”
“That’s all up to you, Klaus.”
One of the men Claire had identified as a gang member spoke up. “Listen, boss, I’m not about to let some ni—”
“Normal for the times or not, but finish that word and I drop the both of you where you stand,” she immediately shot back.
He looked about to say something more but froze. The others there turned to see a man now standing behind him holding something to his back: Captain Beck with his derringer. The fact that he was out of ammunition did not seem worth the captain’s time to bring up.
Another car was now letting out its passenger as the others in the team worked their way around the encounter. From another Cadillac emerged a Japanese delegation centering on a man in an important-looking uniform that several there immediately recognized.
“The man from the photo,” Agent Harris stated.
“That’s Tojo himself,” Captain Beck confirmed.
“That means,” Agent Hessman said from beside Captain Beck as he walked up with the others, “that the Japanese team has got to be—”
The shot rang out, catching Captain Beck in the arm; the silent shot did not match the sound a firearm from this era should have made. The captain dropped his derringer, and the German who’d had the gun in his back swung around to give Captain Beck a shove, while the distraction was enough for the man to elbow Agent Harris and push away himself. Agent Hessman shot a glance at the shooter. He recognized him as one of the Japanese team members they’d encountered back at Steeplechase. The Japanese man’s gun discharged, and he cursed to himself in Japanese, then dove into the crowd. From there, events exploded into chaos.
24
Clandestine Shootout
Dr. Weiss rushed to Captain Beck, carefully helping the man to the ground. “Where’d he get you? Are you all right?”
“Right shoulder, and it hurts like a mother—”
Agent Harris started jogging through the crowd to catch up to her German quarry, then found three of the men in bowler hats blocking her way with grins and fists. “Really?” she told them. “Only three of you?”
Agent Hessman, meanwhile, gave chase to the Japanese man who’d made the shot, while bystanders puzzled at the strangely muffled gunshot, then gasped as the pair of men ran through their ranks. The Japanese team member seemed to be trying to get around the crowd, with furtive glances in the direction of the dignitaries assembling at the top steps of city hall. That’s when Agent Hessman realized the gunman hadn’t been aiming for Robert. He pushed past a couple trying to get a good view of the dignitaries. It was Tojo; Robert must have been in the way!
Professor Stein dashed over to the fallen captain whom Dr. Weiss was tending to.
“He’s got a bullet in the shoulder,” Dr. Weiss reported.
“That’ll have to come out,” Claire said. “Do you need a knife?”
“What?” the doctor gasped. “But I’m not a—”
“She’s right,” Captain Beck gasped. “You’ll have to play field medic. There’s a pocketknife in my upper vest pocket. Ben, if the Germans are after the congressman—”
“On it.”
While Dr. Weiss worked hesitantly on the removal of the bullet, a nearby shocked spectator offered his clean handkerchief.
Meanwhile, Professor Stein charged through the crowd in the general direction of the city hall steps. As yet another car pulled up, the throng of curious bystanders grew as people realized that something important was about to happen. “I’ve got to get to Congressman Lodge. If they kill him—”
A sudden punch to the face cut off the rest of his words, and he fell back into Claire. It was one of the men in bowler hats. Claire caught Ben as he fell back and glared angrily at their assailant.
“Ben, are you all right?”
Ben stepped a foot back to steady himself, worked his jaw with a hand, then replied, “I’m not exactly built for fistfights, but everything seems to be in place.”
The assailant took a step forward, Claire pushing in front of the professor to face the other man with a determined glare.
“Don’t worry, missy,” the man said, grinning. “I never hit a lady. Your boyfriend, though, is quite another story. Now get out of the way.”
He placed a hand to her shoulder to move her out of the way and was rewarded with a boot striking hard into his left shin. The man dropped with a scream of pain.
“A pity I don’t have the same restriction on hitting a man,” she stated. Her next kick landed in his face and sent him sprawling on his back.
“Claire,” the professor gasped as he stepped up beside her, “how did you—”
“Just save the congressman, and leave the details of how my father really wanted a boy for later.”
He replied with a quick nod, then broke into a run, out into a clearing in the crowd, and straight for the steps as the last of the line of cars was pulling away.
“Congressman Lodge,” he shouted, “duck!”
Another disruption was occurring not too far across the square, one that had the crowd parting and trying to get out of the way.
“It’s a mad negress,” someone shouted. “Straight from the jungle, from the way she fights!”
“Someone call the police!”
“It’s terrible!”
Two of the three already lay at her feet, and the third was greeted by Agent Harris’s wide-brimmed, floppy hat pulled suddenly down over his head, a knee ramming its way hard between his legs. “Something to tell your children about, if you can still have any,” she remarked. “You got beat up by a black woman.”
Her opponents mobilized, she spent a moment quickly surveying the situation. Pockets of people were starting to depart as they realized something was amiss, and the police and plainclothesmen were scurrying around as well. Agent Hessman had a clear line on the Japanese man he was chasing and saw the latter raising his gun once again. But he was not, from the looks of it, aiming for the American team’s leader.
“Tojo!” Agent Harris realized. “Great, between that and who the Germans might be going after, this place is about to be a shooting gallery.”
Agent Hessman tried a flying tackle for his quarry just as the other was pulling off his shot. The shot went wild, hitting instead the edge of one of the stone pillars to the side of the main steps. That got everyone’s attention, especially the ones in charge of guarding the milling dignitaries.
Claire had watched Professor Stein run off for the front steps, shouting as he went, and for a moment looked after him, biting her lip. After a cough, she chanced to glance upon another man moving quickly through the crowd on an intercept course for the professor. She recognized this man as being one of the Germans that Sue had pointed out earlier. “That guy must have thirty pounds on Ben. He’ll never know what hit him. Ben!” She burst into a run, shoving people out of the way, not caring how offended t
heir dignities might be. Ben was oblivious as he burst through a line of policemen, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Congressman!”
The German pulled out a small gun, aiming it not at Professor Stein but at one of the men at the top of the steps. That’s when the shot rang out that glanced off the pillar, but Claire heard another sharp noise that sounded like the nearly silent gunshots she had heard back at Steeplechase Park. A second shot was accompanied by the German dropping to the ground with a large hole in the back of his head.
Elsewhere in the crowd, Agent Harris snapped her head around, searching the crowd for the shooter. She had heard the double shot and now saw the German drop just as Professor Stein burst into the open before the steps. “Now where did that shot come from?”
The crowds were screaming and running; policemen tried to restore some order, while the plainclothesmen formed a line with their bodies ringing the base of the steps and the top landing where the dignitaries were assembled. While someone was ushering the dignitaries inside to safety, several of the local police converged on the one obvious target charging threateningly for the group at the top.
Three policemen tackled Professor Stein, one giving him a hard rap with his baton on the back of his leg. Claire gasped as she saw him drop. “Ben!” She ran up to the edge of the police line only to be pushed politely back.
Professor Stein struggled, screaming, “No, you don’t understand. I’m here to warn the congressman. Someone’s out to get him.”
Agent Hessman was struggling with his Japanese opponent when he saw the professor get tackled. “Now what part of clandestine does no one understand?” he muttered.
One more muffled cry was lost to the events, but that came from Captain Beck as Dr. Weiss finally cut the bullet out of his shoulder.
