Blood Red Turns Dollar Green, no. 1

by Paul O'Brien

  BLOOD RED TURNS DOLLAR GREEN

  BY PAUL O’BRIEN

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 Paul O’Brien

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  www.paulobrien.info

  For Úna and Niamh

  CHAPTER ONE

  September 30th 1972. New York.

  Lenny Long lay silently and tried to focus on the icebox that was in front of him. Both he and it had just been on the same short journey. His eyes closed and his thoughts emptied from his brain with a satisfying gurgle. Lenny could finally relax; forget about everything. He made it. He proved he could be trusted with the most important job in the whole business. Finally, he could just get some sleep.

  Except for one thing.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Lenny snapped his eyes open. He struggled to his feet and limped to nowhere in particular along the dark and dirty street in several confused directions. He turned to see his brand new VW Kombi Van overturned and mashed into the grubby iron leg of a railroad bridge halfway down the street.

  “What the fuck?” Lenny dragged his leg as he hurried toward the van, but wasn't quite sure what had happened or why.

  They can't still be in there.

  He tried to move faster but was slowed to a limping gallop by the excruciating pain that was shooting from his leg. He instinctively slid his hand down to where the pain was originating from and could feel a foreign, hard protrusion coming from his hip socket.

  Lenny really began to panic as he approached the van. The passenger door was jammed shut and the smashed glass popped under his feet as he slid around to the back window. He gingerly stooped and saw the giant form of Babu unconscious in the back. “Fuck.”

  His other passenger, Gilbert King, was limply sprawled across the ceiling below the passenger seat of the upended van. The radio, like a shocked victim, continued to babble out Ben softly in the background. Lenny could see the windshield smashed through where he and the icebox had both departed from the driver's seat.

  More worryingly, there was the faint smell of burning coming from under the steering column where a tiny stream of smoke was piping out.

  Painfully but hurriedly, Lenny entered the van and snaked his way up to Babu's massive face. In running the basic math and physics of lifting a seven foot five, four hundred and seventy-two pounder, even a totally disorientated Lenny knew he was going to need some help before that smoke turned to something more dangerous.

  Through the side window, just on the other side of the unlit, wet street, he could make out a graffiti-tagged phone booth. Lenny was in the kind of neighborhood where there was just as much chance of him dying over there in the open as there was in a potential explosion if he stayed in the van.

  Both the explosion and the phone booth were only possible ways of dying. One thing he was sure would get him killed was to lay there and do nothing, so Lenny positioned himself to administer the kiss of life on the unconscious giant, hoping that maybe they'd both walk away from this alive.

  All the pressure of the situation began to beat on him. What happened? How was he going to explain this one to the boss? There was a lot of money riding on these passengers getting to their destination. Enough money to make people do stupid things if it didn't arrive. This was the worst night ever. Of all time.

  And then clarity. Sudden and serene. Absolute peace. Lenny knew exactly what to do in this type of situation. His natural survival instincts took the wheel. Like a mother that just knows how to nurse her child; he just knew the perfect technique.

  Lenny slapped Babu right in his big, dry face.

  Nothing.

  He grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it downwards, twice.

  Nothing.

  His panic and the sensation of notfuckingknowingwhattodo quickly returned and peaked with the trickle of smoke that was now accompanied by some angry electrical sparking.

  “C'mon you big fucking lug,” Lenny pleaded as he hopelessly shook Babu.

  “There must be fucking something...” He wormed back out of the van, and looked around for some inspiration. Anything.

  He grabbed the van and attempted to lift. His modest arms tightened and his back strained. He had no chance of lifting a giant but maybe lifting a van with a giant and a grown man in it would be easier.

  He exploded with power and roared with endeavor, but only managed to tweak a hammy.

  Lenny hit the van with a volley of slaps to punctuate his failure and frustration. The back of his shirt became attracted to him like a shower curtain in a cheap hotel. The back of Lenny's head was busted wide open and the blood was running down his back.

  He couldn't wait to get home and show Bree. This is what he'd been doing on the road. Now he could show her the man's work he was forced to deal with. This blood was the exact reason she shouldn't have argued with him in the forecourt in Queens.

  “Time for something different,” the smooth voice from the radio said. The wailing guitar of Mott the Hoople kicked in as Lenny scurried to the payphone on the curb.

  I have to ring the cops.

  “Hey?” moaned the voice from the wreckage of the van.

  Lenny stopped, not sure if he was hearing things.

  “Hey?”

  Lenny hobbled back to the van and anxiously tried the door again.

  “Don't call the cops. You hear me?” demanded Gilbert's weak voice from inside.

  Lenny continued to wrestle with the door handle.

  “You hear me, Lenny?”

  “What happened?” Lenny said as he finally managed to open the battered door. He instinctively grabbed Gilbert by the collar, the pain of which immediately emptied Gilbert’s lungs.

  “Sorry,” Lenny said.

  “No, no, get me out of here,” Gilbert demanded in a breathless voice.

  “I'm trying, man.” Lenny approached Gilbert's torso from several different angles but couldn't find two handfuls of him that wasn't torn or broken.

  “No, I mean get me out of here altogether.”

  Lenny stopped. He looked around for prying eyes and leaned in to Gilbert's partially missing ear. “You mean...kill you?”

  “No, you fucking fairy. Get me a cab or something. I can't be here with him when there are people around.”

  Lenny looked Gilbert up and down. He was no doctor but things didn't look good from where he was. “I should get an ambulance...”

  Gilbert grabbed Lenny by the inseam of his trouser leg, which pinched a little, but Lenny thought it was inappropriate to wince given the circumstances. “You ring anyone and you'll be done. Me and the giant can't be seen together under any circumstances.”

  Lenny nodded repeatedly as he again planned his hand placement. Gilbert extended his arms up like a child looking for comfort. “Drag me. Quickly, you asshole.”

  Lenny carefully, but quickly, scooped his hands under Gilbert's armpits and began to drag him from the wreckage.

  Gilbert moaned involuntarily as the blood was dripping from his mouth and he was slipping in and out of consciousness. Lenny managed to get his whole body free from the wreckage. He began to slowly drag Gilbert inch by inch to the other side of the road.

  “Hurry,” Gilbert said as his eyes rolled in his head.

  Lenny grabbed him tighter and began lu
gging Gilbert across to the curb with less delicate drags.

  “Fuck me.” Gilbert breathlessly mumbled from pain.

  Lenny gave one last pull to get Gilbert's dead weight body fully on the curb. They fell, exhausted, with Gilbert between Lenny's legs – like two entangled lovers watching the tide come in.

  Lenny choked out a laugh of pure relief. No explosion. Gilbert was still alive. The only thing lost was one of Gilbert's boots that must have caught a crack in the street on the journey over.

  There was a stirring from the van. Lenny rested Gilbert's head on the ground and began to stand. The humping and the dragging positioned his hip to pop right back into place. The sound was way worse than the pain. Lenny tested, cautiously, a few steps towards the van. His limp was gone, freeing him up to move at a much faster pace.

  “Babu?”

  Lenny picked up Gilbert's stranded boot.

  “Babu?” he said as he approached the van.

  The weight of the boot in his hand suddenly caught his attention.

  That's very heavy.

  Lenny weighed the boot in his other hand.

  What the fuck?

  He slowly turned and saw that Gilbert's right leg stopped cleanly just at the end of his shinbone.

  Holy shit.

  Lenny instinctively flung the boot over his shoulder. His own knees deserted him and he cracked his head off the ground.

  There was no way they were going to make it to the venue on time. One of them mightn't even make it out of there alive.

  This was bad. Really fucking bad.

  The boss walked the corridor listening to the white noise above him turn to booing. He worked the only job in the world where booing was not only a good thing, but was encouraged at every turn.

  After fifteen years running his own business, Danno Garland could identify a 'good night' for the audience just by listening, and he knew that this was one hell of a good night. For the audience.

  “Where are they, boss?” a worried sounding voice asked as he strode past.

  Danno ignored the question but he really wanted to stab the inquisitor in the temple. He instead continued at pace to the upper deck.

  With the grand reveal of an unfinished circle, the stadium presented herself full. Even with all that was going on, the spectacle and energy of sixty five thousand, four hundred and seventeen people took his breath away. It was a beautiful sight – in fact and in commerce. A reason to be proud and a little bit emotional.

  Danno Garland had finally made it to Shea Stadium.

  Her sweating beauty wrapped around his creation like a giant, protective huddle. The collective masses thundered down their applause and disgust in equal measures.

  All these years, Danno had waited for the right time to go big. And it didn't get much bigger than this. With another look at his watch, he reluctantly conceded that this was the setting for him to lose it all.

  Merv Schiller was right. He did fuck it up.

  “Do you want to make another call on the finish, boss?” Ginny Ortiz, a once sharp and quick-witted man, respectfully asked from behind.

  Danno shook his head without turning around.

  “But the...”

  “I know.” Danno interjected. “I know.” He tried to answer Ginny a little more gently than he would anyone else pressing him – because of what happened. “Just gimme a sec.”

  Ginny waited patiently for a nod in one direction or the other.

  What could have possibly gone wrong out there? It was only a thirty minute drive from Downtown Brooklyn to Shea Stadium, Danno wondered.

  “The cops want to know if there's going to be trouble, boss?” Ginny asked.

  Danno was instantly angry that the word was leaking out to the front. Angry, but not a single bit surprised. It was one of the cornerstones of this event. Loose lips filled the stadium.

  Ginny really didn't want to push it but he knew that if something wasn't done soon there was going to be a major issue. “Sir?”

  Danno wasn't being mysterious on purpose; he didn't know what was happening either.

  It was time for strategy; a plan 'B' even. Who else did he have that could send the sticky, rabid crowd home happy? This war was years in the making and everyone in those seats knew it. They came to see blood.

  “Fuck.”

  Danno knew that if they didn't show up soon he'd be ruined. He'd never sell another ticket again. The state of New York wouldn't have to try and shut him down because he'd effectively do it himself.

  He removed his sweat-stained tweed cap and rested it on his bent knee. I should have kept things simple.

  “Sir?” asked a voice again.

  “Fuck off, Ginny,” Danno snapped back in his rounded New York accent.

  “Sir, we just got a message from Luscious.”

  Danno pivoted instinctively to see a soft, conservative-looking man that he vaguely remembered hiring. He stood rigidly and respectfully with a note in his hand.

  “Message? From where?” Danno inquired, confused.

  The man bowed his head and handed over the note. Danno turned away and topped himself up with a steadying breath before opening it. He placed his cap back in its familiar spot. “I haven't got my glasses. How bad is it?”

  The messenger opened the note and read it slowly. “Lenny is refusing to come to the stadium, sir. He said he'll only talk to you,” the man said without lifting his eyes.

  “He's refusing to come... what?” Danno squinted closely at his watch.

  “Everyone wants to know what to expect now, sir,” the man nervously said.

  Danno trawled through the thousands of bad situations he had been in over the years. The endless real world experiences. The hundreds of possible outcomes. The thousands in the crowd.

  It was completely out of Danno's hands. He was as paralyzed as everyone who wanted answers. But to one man out there something like this would look like Danno fucked him over by design. And that made Danno more edgy that anything else.

  “Tell them that I have no fucking idea what to expect.”

  A train roared past on the bridge over his head. Lenny stood in the derelict phone booth as his pencil-like body shook like a pup in the rain.

  He was supposed to be at home. Again. He sure was getting sick of phone booths.

  He used his rolled up nylon jacket to stop the bleeding from his head as he compressed the payphone between his shoulder and ear.

  The cops and emergency crew milled around the mangled van as he watched in a hushed daze through a tiny patch of unsprayed glass. Lenny thought about how he’d had to forge his wife's signature to get the van in the first place. Maybe if he'd spent more time with her instead of someone else's wife this wouldn't have happened.

  Bree was the last of his worries. For now. His racing mind turned to the bosses. None of them wanted this kind of attention. This was the worst kind of bad.

  Past the zigzag of abandoned police cars, he could see that an officer was starting to get annoyed at his giant silent witness. Lenny knew how he felt, but getting angry with Babu was probably not the wisest thing to do. Lenny was at a loss as to whether he should leave the phone call and smooth over the interrogation, or wait on the line to be fired, abused, or much worse.

  “Where are you – you little fuck?” Danno demanded to know from the other end of the line.

  “Hello?”

  “Lenny?”

  Lenny struggled to keep himself together. “Hello? That you, boss?”

  Danno could tell by Lenny's voice that he wasn't firing on all cylinders, so he steadied himself and picked a different approach, “Where's the champ, Luscious?”

  “I can see him... the giant... he's right here...”

  “Good,” Danno laughed in a release of tension.

  Lenny took one last look around. “I had Gilbert too, I think I had Gilbert.”

  “Did you say Gilbert? You had Gilbert, too?” Danno was puzzled as to how his man ended up with their man too.

  “Ye
ah. He was with us. He wasn't going to show... it's... we got him in the van.”

  “Lenny?” Danno again tried his most empathetic voice. “Lenny, this bit is very important. Did anyone see those two together? Think about it before you answer.”

  Lenny desperately tried to slap the pieces together. “I don't know. The van... they were... I...”

  Danno could feel himself losing his empathy battle but still gritted against it. “What happened?”

  “I can't remember, sir. The van crashed. It looks like we hit a couple of cars and rolled into the bridge and now I can't find Gilbert King.”

  Danno's heart thumped unevenly in his chest. “He's missing?”

  Lenny could feel this whole situation getting way too big for his spot in the company. “I was talking to him, trying to pull him out. I can't remember. I think I have a concussion. Things...”

  Danno cut him off with a more soothing tone.

  “Is he in the van?”

  “I don't think so. I thought I...”

  “It's not a fucking difficult question unless you have a super van that’s suddenly after magic-ing itself into a maze. Is that what you have? A van with magic powers?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well then, if he's not in the seat, he's not in the van.” Danno finished his sentence with a few thumps of the receiver off the chipped walls in Shea.

  Lenny turned away from all the flashing, noisy distractions in front of him. He was sure there was a simple and logical step to all that he was missing.

  “I'm sorry. I was knocked stupid myself, and I can't even really remember what happened. I would do anything to make this right, boss. You know that.”

  Lenny waited for a response. He was fully aware that saying that he'd do anything for Danno Garland was a dangerous offer at this stage in the game.

  “Are you still on the phone?” Danno asked calmly. Too calmly.

  Lenny paused, unsure of what to do.

  “Fucking find him. Do you hear me? You've got ten minutes to get them both here, otherwise do you know what will happen? The...”