by Buzz Harcus
A curtain was drawn about halfway across the room separating the room into two sections. The first bed was empty. The TV was blaring. Someone coughed. It was a long, drawn-out, guttural cough. The person was obviously trying to expel phlegm from deep in his throat. He coughed, coughed again, and then gave a long moaning sigh of relief. Harry eased forward, peeking around the edge of the curtain.
He stopped short, startled, for before him lay a tired-looking, emaciated old man propped up in bed, his head resting on several pillows. His cheeks were caved in; eyes dull, sunken deeply into his head. At the head of the bed on a patient dresser, Harry saw false teeth resting in a glass of water. Glancing back at the man, Harry saw tubes protruding from his right arm leading up to an IV bottle suspended above his head.
This tired, withered old man was Joe Gionetti?
Harry slipped his hand off the gun and drew his sweater over the weapon. "Joe, Joe Gionetti," he said stepping past the curtain to the end of the bed, still uncertain. The head rolled slowly around on the pillow, the dull eyes opening wider.
"Harry, is that you, Harry?"
"Yeah, it's me, Joe," Harry replied, detecting a slight smile
breaking across Joe's face. He walked around to the side of the bed reaching for Joe's extended hand. It was gnarled, twisted with arthritis. There was no strength to his grip.
"Things ain't been going too good fer oP Joe, Harry," Joe whispered in a hoarse voice. "Things jus' ain't been good at all."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry whispered back, wondering why he was whispering. Then he cleared his throat and continued. "What can I do for you? Your telephone call seemed quite urgent."
Harry watched as Joe painfully struggled to rise to a more comfortable position on the pillows. He looked pathetic; not the belligerent Joe Gionetti who had threatened to kill him, not the same bitter guy he'd dreaded meeting for over thirty years.
"Come close ta' th' bed, Harry," Joe said, and motioned to a chair next to the bed, "I want ya ta see this show on TV. It comes on now, all about our new relations with China." His voice cracked. Reaching up, he wiped his mouth with a balled-up wad of tissues, then coughed and wiped again. "I saw th' program earlier today. The announcer said they'd play it back agin t'night at 7:30, that's why I called ya', Harry, there's somethin' I want ya' ta' see." He glanced at the clock on the night stand. "It's 7:30 now." He picked up a hand-held TV remote control unit and pressed the button clicking the stations around until the public broadcasting station came on. "Now watch this," he repeated.
Harry squared the chair around, sat down, and adjusted his vision to the small television set mounted on the far wall. The station break had just ended and the next program was about to begin.
Chapter 9
VIEWING CHINA FILM DOCUMENTARY
China Today: A Documentary on the New China," the announcer stated over the titles. The sing-song strains of Oriental music filled the background, still familiar after all these years. The announcer recounted a recent tour of the Orient he had taken, including some of the major cities in China, those enchanting, mysterious cities so often frequented in days past, in that decadent period before Communist China.
Harry smiled at the remark and scrunched down in his chair, crossing his legs, getting comfortable. He glanced over at Joe; his eyes were glued to the tube.
The first city was Shanghai, bustling, busy Shanghai, it's Huangpo River teeming with huge foreign ships, high-sterned junks, ferries and many smaller junks and barges. The colorful Bund along the waterfront looked the same as it did when he was last there, Harry thought, still teeming with people. He noticed several new attractions as the camera took them on a tour of the park. Glancing down at his wristwatch, Harry saw it was 7:37 p.m. Joe sure as hell didn't invite him up just to watch a documentary on China. What was the catch?
He glanced back at the screen. The action had shifted to a boat slowly wending its way up the river past the large ships and along the busy docks. Flags of many nations waved from the sterns of the ships, fluttering in an early morning breeze. The silhouette of the city stood stark against a clear blue sky.
Harry remembered Shanghai. It was his first taste of China, his first shore leave. Alone, he'd taken a rickshaw through the busy streets ending up outside the Enlisted Men's Club in the heart of Shanghai. A mob of Chinese had stopped the rickshaw about 200 feet short of the club entrance. He recalled his first frantic thoughts about the yelling, tattered mob - they all looked alike! The rickshaw boy demanded more money than they had agreed on. Harry objected, pulling only a dollar from his wallet. The boy shook his head, said something to the mob, and then demanded more. They argued as the crowd pressed tighter around them. For the first time, Harry felt fearful for his life.
"Leave that man alone!" called a tall, brawny Marine MP who came charging through the sea of yellow faces, recklessly swinging a large billy club and swearing profusely. The crowd fell back before him, dodging the flailing club. Fearfully, the rickshaw boy grabbed the dollar from Harrys hand and took off running, his rig bouncing behind him.
"You dumb jarhead!" the MP exclaimed gruffly, grabbing Harry by the arm and shoving him through the gates of the Enlisted Men's Club. "Don't ever flash your money before a mob like that again. They'll pick you clean as a bone in seconds."
Shaking, Harry turned to comment to the MP but, instead, snapped to attention, as he had learned in boot camp when in the presence of a sergeant, and the MP was a Master Sergeant.
"Hey, you okay?" the Sergeant asked, and then suddenly broke out into a big toothy grin. "Just out of boot camp?"
"Yes sir," came Harry's nervous reply. "Parris Island, Sir." He stiffened at attention.
The grin was still on the sergeant's pitted face. He shook his head, and then said, "Well, you're out of boot camp now. You're a Marine. And you don't call a sergeant, sir, and stand at ease for chrissakes!"
"Yes, si-I mean sergeant," Harry replied, suddenly relaxing.
"Now, private, I want you to always carry your wallet in your front pocket. It's harder for the gooks to get at. Too many of you 'boots' end up losing your wallets and getting cut up by these damned cutthroats. Be safe. When you leave here later, make damned sure you leave with several other Marines — and keep your belt buckle handy. A swinging buckle does a lot of damage. Now go inside and have a good time. Drink one for me."
"Right," Harry grinned stuffing his wallet in his front pocket, "and thanks."
"Don't mention it," the MP called over his shoulder as he moved off fighting his way through the crowd to rescue a couple of sailors. "You god-damned gooks!" he yelled, "Leave those men alone!" His flailing club bounced off backs and heads.
"Look! Look close now, Harry!" Joe rasped interrupting his thoughts. "See! See!"
Harry watched the screen intently. There was the port ofTsingtao. Christ, he thought, it, too, hadn't changed that much in the past thirty years. There was the ornate pavilion at the end of the pier at the entrance to the harbor; the travelogue announcer called it the Rebounding Wave Pavilion, then the Mayor's house perched high on a hillside, and the downtown area where most of the bars had been located, including the Enlisted Men's Club. Three places suddenly flashed across his mind: Gizmo's Night Club, Sammy's Place and the Tivoli Restaurant, three of his favorite hangouts. The camera moved to the dock area and the blackened, red brick fence surrounding the Old Japanese Compound. A chill ran through Harry; it was still being used.
"Watch close now!" Joe shrieked excitedly "This's what I wanted ya' ta' see. Watch close!"
Chapter 10
THE REASON FOR THE VISIT
The camera took them up a winding road around a hill and up to the main gates of Shantung University. Shantung University, hell! It was the old Marine Corps compound. Excitement swept through Harry. It was as if he'd never left the place. It seemed like only yesterday he had walked through those gates. The camera continued inside. Nothing seemed to have really changed. Yes, there were some cosmetic differences, new
facades on buildings, more shrubbery and lots of beautiful flower gardens, but the basic layout was the same. The old baseball field adjacent to the main entrance, to his right, was still there, now the athletic field with students playing soccer. Even the old chain-link fence the Marines had put up to keep the gooks out. Harry grinned when he saw the dip in the gully where the fence didn't quite touch to the ground. Many times he'd crawled under the fence there next to a small drainage ditch, coming in late from liberty, bypassing the guardhouse at the main gate.
A new athletic building stood where the old Tarver Gymnasium had stood. It collapsed back in 1948 just days after the trial, he recalled. The old Third Marine barracks building was still there, but now converted into a dormitory with some classrooms. Students were sitting about on the lawn under the tall shade trees exchanging small talk, studying, enjoying a warm spring day. Many were walking to classes, all with happy, smiling faces.
Then he saw it - the old 12th Service Battalion building. Christ! he uttered to himself. It hadn't changed at all.
"See, Harry! See!" Joe grabbed at Harry's arm excitedly, holding tightly. "Watch this part. Watch this part!"
The barracks stood just the way the Marines had left it back in
1949. There was a growing lump in his throat. As the camera moved in closer, Harry could see the basic structure hadn't changed at all. Maybe a new coat of paint and a new name over the entrance to the building - but it was their old barracks. He knew he could walk inside today and go right to his old room on the second floor. It was incredible.
A view of the side of the building caused a start. Even the steps they'd built on the side of the building were still there, potted plants adorning each step. Harry smiled to himself. The Chinese probably didn't realize the skullduggery the Marines had gone to in order to build the steps. They led to the fourth floor, to the storage area where they used to sneak in Chinese whores for parties.
"How about that, Harry! Ain't that som'thin'?" Joe rasped.
"Yeah. Fantastic," Harry responded, a twang of nostalgia grabbing at his guts, a "wonder what it'd be like to be there today" feeling.
"That's what I wanted ya ta see," Joe rasped. "That's why I wanted ta' see ya, Harry." His bony fingers continued to dig into Harry's arm. "Yessir, that's why ol' Joe wanted ta see ya."
Harry glanced at Joe. Excitement radiated from his tired face, and his eyes were alive with a sparkle Harry once knew. Why was he so excited about seeing the old barracks? Hell, neither of them would ever set foot on Chinese soil again in their lifetime, much less see the inside of the old barracks.
Joe pressed the automatic tuner. The sound and picture faded abruptly just as Harry recognized the next city, Peiping, with its golden roofed Forbidden City. Joe lay back against the pillows gasping for breath, holding his hand to his chest and smiling.
"You all right, Joe?" Harry asked, a tone of concern in his voice.
"Yeah, jus' gotta let my excitement die down fer a few seconds, gotta bum ticker, too, ya know," he replied. He continued sucking in air in short gasps, pursing his lips to exhale, not taking his hand from Harry's forearm.
Harry sneaked a glance at his wristwatch. They had only viewed twenty minutes of the travelogue. By now, they were showing different scenes of Peiping and he wanted to see more of that old fun town, especially the market, or the Hotel De Peking, and the fifth floor balcony where the whores roamed from room to room. Why'd he shut it off just as it was getting interesting?
"How'd ya like ta make a fast million bucks, Harry?" Joe asked in his low raspy voice.
"Come again?" said Harry thinking he had misunderstood. He twisted around in his chair facing Joe. Joe was lying there, smiling, a toothless smile, looking somewhat like the cat that swallowed the canary.
"How'd you like ta' make a fast million bucks?" he repeated.
"Fine," Harry quipped. "Who do I kill?"
It was a flippant retort that seemed to freeze on Harry's lips. Joe's face turned deadly serious, his dark eyes boring into Harry's - the cold, calculating eyes Harry recalled from the trial.
"What's it all about?" Harry said with a half-grin, a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Are you serious?"
"I want ta make a pact with ya', Harry," Joe replied, his eyes still boring in ominously. "I know ya don't give a damn fer me 'n probably never did." He paused for a moment, seeming to search for the right words. "But, hell, I never cared a lick fer you either. But yer honest, 'n I know you can be trusted. I know I can count on ya'."
"What kind of pact?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised that Joe thought that much of him to call him honest. "Why old honest Harry Martin, who might just rip you off?"
Joe grinned. "Shit, Harry. I know all about you I've been here fer quite a spell -"
"And how the hell did you get into a VA hospital with a dishonorable discharge?" Harry countered, suddenly realizing Joe shouldn't be there.
Joe grinned again. "I got ways." He gave a wave of his hand. "Anyhow, I knowed you was from Saginaw. I knowed they had a vet's hospital here. At first I was going to knock you off, but then, what th' hell, I was falling apart anyways. I checked around. You got a good reputation and yer honest. I also know yer divorced, got two growed kids, yer independent as hell, but yer as poor as a church mouse right now. Yer gonna need a lot more dough ta' take care of that young skirt ya been playin' house with -- yeah, a lot more dough, an' ol' Joe can help ya get it."
Harry sat back thoughtfully amused, impressed at what Joe had just told him. The old bastard knew all about him. It suddenly dawned on him that Joe could have knocked him off any time he'd wanted. What was he leading up to?
"I need yer help, Harry," Joe continued. "I gotta share my secret with someone who can help me. I ain't got much time left 'n I need someone to share my pact with me. I think yer th' man." He coughed up some more phlegm, wiping it away with a fresh wad of tissues. "If I tell ya my secret, ya gotta swear ta keep it a secret n' help me. Okay?" His eyes burned with a fire that made Harry shrink back, yet he couldn't break free. Joe's eyes never wavered, searching Harry's to the depth of his soul. "If ya' ain't gonna help me, get th' hell outa here right now!"
Harry held up his hands to stop Joe's sudden distrust. He was intrigued by the mysterious overtone, at the excitement he found in Joe's harangue. "Whoa! Hold on! Yeah, I'll keep your secret. What is it?"
Chapter 11
JOE'S HIDDEN CACHE
Joe seemed to be pondering his decision to share his secret with Harry. Then, he motioned toward the window ledge. "Bible. Get it," he insisted. Harry got the bible and handed it to Joe, who rested it on the bed tray. "Shake on it and hold yer hand on this here bible at th' same time."
This is a switch, Harry thought, Joe suddenly turning religious. He rested one hand on the bible and shook Joe's gnarled hand with the other. "I swear to keep your secret."
Joe leaned back on the pillows closing his eyes. Harry waited, watching. Had he passed the acid test? After several seconds, he wondered if Joe had died. He was so quiet. Would he ever know the mysterious secret? At that moment, Joe opened his eyes. With a crooked finger, he motioned him closer.
Harry leaned forward.
"Closer," Joe whispered.
Harry leaned over the bed until his face was only a couple of inches from Joe's. "Harry," came Joe's voice in a hoarse whisper, " I got over two million bucks stashed away in th' top of th' ol' 12th Service Battalion buildin', up where we used ta' keep our weapons, over two million bucks, Harry, 'n I'll share it with ya'."
"Get off it, Joe," Harry replied. "At the trial they said it was 30 grand, not two million."
"Harry, what'd you think, I'm a fool? 'Course I'm not gonna say two million. You forget, Harry, I'd been stashing a long time. I'm the best, Harry. Two million, I tell ya'."
Harry let out a low whistle and backed off looking at Joe. He suddenly realized that Joe, the old scoundrel, the stupid black marketeer was not as stupid as they all thought. He was serious; it showed on his face.
"I know it's still there; th' buildin's still standing just the way I remember it," Joe continued. "I stashed th' money away in a secret place that even th' stupid MP's 'n dumb chinks couldn't find, not even that double-crossing snake, Stan, jus' me." He cackled. "Jus' ol' Joe -"
Harry suddenly felt pity for Joe. The man was obviously deranged. What a fool, what a pathetic fool. He'd slipped over the edge. If there were money, it wouldn't be there now, not after all these years.
"We'll share th' money, ol' Joe n' you, Harry. You get it 'n we'll share it. Okay?"
"Two million dollars, all black market money that you stashed away? If so, that money belongs to the government, not you."
"No!" Joe snarled. "It's my money! I paid th' price fer it. I did my time. I paid th' price! Screw th' government! Screw th' Marines! Screw them damned commie chinks! It's my money! I know it's still there n' I want it!" His eyes were snapping with anger, his voice trembling. He seemed on the verge of hysteria.
"Calm down," Harry said, holding up his hands. "If you say the money's there, that's good enough for me. You know I don't give a rat's ass one way or the other, I just don't want you suddenly dropping dead with a heart attack. If you say it's there; it's there."
"It's there," Joe said, falling back on the pillows.
After a minute or so, Harry said, in a calm voice, "Joe, listen to what I'm going to tell you. It's been over thirty years since you stashed the money away. I don't think it's there anymore. Now think about it. It's probably rotted away by now, or the chinks found it when they remodeled the building, or the rats have chewed it up. You don't really think the money's going to be around anymore, not after thirty years?"
Joe grabbed Harry's arm pulling himself up to a sitting position. A fierce scowl masked his face, eyes flashing angrily "Goddammitt, Harry! It's there! I know it is. All big bills. I sealed them in heavy plastic 'n hid 'em in a big aluminum container. Big bills, $100, $500, $1,000, big bills, all there, all I gotta do is have someone go
