by Buzz Harcus
'n get it 'n bring it back. That's all, jus' that simple!"
His voice suddenly faltered and he began coughing, the series of coughs racking his frail body. "Gimme some water," he gasped, wiping at his mouth with another wad of tissue. "Damn, jus' one good shot of whiskey'd do the trick." He dropped the wad of tissues in the wastebasket. "Even a shot of rotgut whiskey -"
Harry had jumped up at his request for water, reaching across the patient stand for the water pitcher and glass. In that moment, he felt a tug at his waist, and suddenly he was staring down the barrel of his own .22 held in Joe's gnarled left hand.
"Sit down, Harry," Joe commanded, motioning with the gun. Harry felt his face flush, a prickly sensation ran up his back and neck, and his hair felt like it was bristling. What a stupid move, reaching across the stand like that. Stupid! Never trust a rattlesnake, his dad had always cautioned him; they strike without warning.
"You always pack a rod, Harry?" Joe questioned.
"Uh, well, sometimes -"
"Only when ya' come ta' see ol' Joe, eh?" he cackled. He looked down at the gun, examining it momentarily, then turned it around and handed it back to Harry, butt first. "Like I said, I could'a knocked ya' off anytime I wanted to, but I figured what's been done is done. Put it away."
Still flushed, Harry slipped the pistol back inside his waistband.
"Put th' safety back on or you'll blow away th' family jewels," Joe admonished.
Harry gave an embarrassed grin as he took out the pistol, snapped the safety on, and then tucked it back in his waistband.
"Th' only time I'd come after ya' now is if ya' was ta' double- cross me," Joe said picking up the water pitcher and pouring a glass of water. Harry realized then, the wily old bastard had been wise to him, had figured he'd come packing a gun. Joe took a deep drink of water.
Chapter 12
DANGER: JOE'S EX-PARTNER, STAN
That's all my loot over there, Harry," Joe said, and settled back resting on his pillows, seemingly more at ease now that he had Harry's undivided attention. "Th' only way anybody'd find it is if I told em - or they took th' place apart - 'n ya jus' saw th' damned place is still standing, jus' th' way it was before"
"I don't know," Harry replied doubtfully. "I still say no money could last this long. It's been over thirty years since you hid it. Thirty years! Nineteen Forty-Eight versus Nineteen Seventy-Nine. That's a hell of a long time. Think about it."
Yet, all the time he was trying to convince Joe it was a hopeless cause, he found himself doubting his own reasoning. He recalled Joe as being exceptionally careful about his property. All the guys in the barracks knew he squirreled away his money, but they always figured he'd sent it back to the states. Hell, they had nearly torn up the whole damned Marine compound looking for the missing black market money. Now, here was Joe telling him it was hidden back in the barracks in Tsingtao, China.
"Listen ta me, Harry. Listen ta' what I'm tellin' ya. Th' money's there. Believe me, it's there! We'll split it right down the middle," Joe rasped, ignoring Harry's doubting comments. "A million fer you 'n a million fer me. How's 'at? Okay?"
Harry shook his head. It was far out. It'd be a miracle if the money still existed. Yet, it was a tempting offer - one million bucks. He and Sandy could really enjoy life then - the good life.
"Whatta ya' say, Harry? Are ya' in?"
Harry mulled the deal over a couple more seconds. What the hell, he thought, why not. "Okay. It sounds plausible, and I could
use a million bucks. Now, what's the catch?"
The look on Joe's face turned from that of a winning grin to a perplexed scowl. "There ain't no god-damned catch. You get th' money n' bring it back here ta' me. We split it fifty-fifty! No damned catch! I'd rather split it with you than have that bastard Stan get his hands on it."
Harry's eyebrows jumped. This was the second time Stan's name had been mentioned. "Does Stan know where the money is? Is he after it, too?"
"No. Hell, no!" Joe snapped, but there was a change in his voice that Harry caught. His eyes shifted away. "He's been after me fer years ta' tell him. I vowed I'd never tell him. I gave him th' slip back in New Jersey. He'll never find me." He gave a half-hearted laugh. "He'll never find me. Nossiree, 'n he'll never get his murderous hands on my money, never!"
Harry felt uncomfortable knowing Stan was aware of the money. If he was after it there could be trouble, especially if Stan knew just how much money. "What does Stan know about the money?" he asked.
"Nothin', really," Joe replied He suddenly seemed edgy.
"Don't lie to me," Harry fired back. "I don't like cat-and-mouse games. I don't want to get sucked into something where I'll end up fighting for my life, losing it over some damned cache of money that might not even exist anymore. It isn't worth it to me. Tell me about Stan or the deal's off. You understand? And no lies."
"Yeah," Joe nodded. "I understand. No lies. Stan knows there's money but he don't know where it is or how much. Honest. He got me drunk one time back in Passaic 'n I kinda let him know I had my dough stashed away back in Tsingtao. We got ta' laughin' about it, ya' know - my money there 'n th' commies not lettin' anyone in their damned country. It was funny at th' time. CM' Stan had pissed all his money away, that what th' feds didn't get back. He's been flat- assed busted fer years. Pulls stick-ups, steals purses, strong-arm stuff. Anyways, later when Kissinger n' Nixon went ta' China 'n opened up new relations with th' commies, th' picture changed. OP Stan came back after me. He wanted to know all 'bout th' money. I wouldn't tell him a friggin' thing, not one damned thing. He busted me up somethin' awful. I was in a hospital fer three weeks. I snuck outta there one night, bad hurt as I was, cause I knew he'd be back. I got th' hell outta' Jersey 'n away from that bastard. Honest, Harry, I didn't tell him one damned thing. Nothing."
Harry sat staring at Joe, not knowing whether to believe him or not.
Chapter 13
NEW PARTNERS: JOE AND HARRY
“Time for your pills, Mr. Gionetti," came a soft female voice. Harry swiveled about catching sight of the attractive nurse he'd seen earlier pushing the pill cart. She had a warm smile for Harry as she moved past him to Joe, bending over to give him pills, making sure he took each one with a swallow of water.
Nice legs, Harry thought, admiring the view under the raised hemline. Nice ass. It's a good thing she's not a mind reader.
Joe gagged down the pills, muttering as he took each one. The nurse laughingly cajoled him, encouraging him.
"There. All done," she said, and turning to Harry, she continued, "It's almost the end of visiting hours, sir." She gave Harry that winning smile. "Mr. Gionetti needs his rest."
"I'll be leaving shortly," Harry acknowledged.
As she adjusted items on the cart, and then proceeded to leave the room, Harry sat thinking, contemplating what to do. There was a good possibility of getting into China now that the United States had recognized the country, now that relations between the two countries had improved to the point where travelers were visiting China in ever-increasing numbers. Maybe it was a long shot, but just maybe he could get to Tsingtao and get the money. Stan posed another problem, though. Somehow, he believed Joe, but the fact that Stan knew about the money bothered him. He was sure Joe hadn't told him; Joe was the kind who would never part with anything unless he had a hand in the deal. Stan was the deep thinker, the kind who'd kill for the information. Obviously, if Joe had escaped from him, then the secret would only be between Joe and him.
"Will ya' get th' money fer us, Harry?" Joe asked, a pleading
tone in his raspy voice. "We'll split it, partners, fifty-fifty, just like I said. Ol' Joe jus' wants one more good fling before he cashes in, one more good fling."
"Well," Harry said hesitantly, not wanting to commit himself, yet finding the challenge of getting that much money too tempting to resist. "I got vacation time coming - seeing as how the bottom has dropped out of the building business because of inflation and high interest rates."
There goes my vacation trip with Sandy, he suddenly thought, but then the thought of a longer vacation with her, even a prolonged honeymoon, perked him up. "Maybe I can swing it, partner." With a grin, he held out his hand and Joe grasped it holding it tightly as possible with his pain-twisted fingers.
"Yer th' only person I've ever asked, n' th' only one I'll tell where my stash is, 'zactly where ta find it."
Harry noticed his eyes were wet. Joe quickly rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. "Ya won't be sorry ya' did this fer ol' Joe, Harry. Ya' won't be sorry, th' money's there, you'll see, I ain't lying, it's there."
Harry grinned at the sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Hell, Joe. If I can get to Tsingtao, and if I can get into the old compound, and if I can get into the old barracks, and if I can get the money, then I know I can get back okay," Harry quipped. "It's just all the 'if s' that bother me."
That brought a raspy laugh from Joe.
"Now, just where is the money?" Harry asked. "Just where do I find it?"
"Come close, closer," Joe whispered, motioning Harry close to his lips. "I don't want any damned nurses or doctors list'nin' in."
Harry listened intently as Joe described in detail exactly where the money was hidden and how someone could get it. Christ, Harry thought, it was so simple, yet so well hidden - the work of a genius. If I'd had my wits about me thirty years ago I could have figured it out, he chastised himself, then added, maybe.
"That's slick the way you hid the money," he said when Joe stopped. "Really ingenious."
Joe fell back on the pillows, coughing, hacking up more phlegm, wiping it away with a new wad of tissues.
"Now ya' know my secret," he rasped. "Yer th' only one I've ever told n I'm holding ya responsible fer bringing' back my share."
"How the hell did you ever think of hiding it like that? You must have had a lot of help to get the contraption built to your specifications, and then getting it placed in the wall without any of our personnel being aware of it."
Joe glared at him. "Don't press me, Harry," he snapped. "I got it done n' I'm th' only one who knows jus' where th' loot is -'cept, now, fer you."
"Don't worry. I'll keep your secret. I was just curious. No offense. Just asking." Harry held his hands up to show he meant nothing by the inquiring remark. Hell, he thought, for two million bucks just for the taking, he could care less what happened thirty years ago. All he had to do now was get to China, get the money and get back and share it with Joe. Simple. Bullshit!
"Penny fer yer thoughts, Harry?" Joe cut in.
"Just thinking about China and how I'm going to pull this off."
"How ya' get there n' get back is yer problem. You jus' bring it back 'n we'll split it like I said, fifty-fifty. Jus' bring back some dough so I can have at least one good fling before I croak!" Joe laughed, but it was a raspy, guttural laugh. "I'd like ta' latch onta' a young chick like you got. She's a hot number, right?"
Harry nodded, a sudden thought of the passion he and Sandy shared so often crossing his mind.
"Yeah, I could show some chick that there's a still life in this ol' stud. Right, Harry?" He laughed.
"Right, stud —"
"Yeah. At least one more good fling before I croak. Dames, booze, at least I'd go out ballin' 'stead of layin' here dying with this damned cancer."
He coughed, coughed again, his face turning red. He grabbed up more tissues, continuing to shudder, coughing hard, his tired body racked with each spasm.
Harry watched helplessly, fearful that Joe might die at that moment. It was the worst siege of coughing yet. Suddenly, Joe moaned, simultaneously wiping a big gob of phlem with his wad of tissues, streaking it across his cheek, then fell back on the pillows with a deep sigh. Harry handed him a glass of water which Joe took, drinking deeply.
Finally, clearing his throat, Joe settled back on the bed exhausted, his head nestled deeply in the pillows, eyes closed.
Harry stood up, zipping up his jacket. "You need your rest, Joe. You lay back and sleep. I'll figure out a way to get to China; don't worry about it. Right now, I gotta hurry, got a heavy date with Sandy and I don't want to keep her waiting."
Joe nodded weakly giving a slight wave of his hand.
"I'll check back in a couple days. I've gotta give a lot of thought to how I'm going to get to China. See ya later, partner."
As he headed for the door, Joe called after him. "Se ya later, partner."
Chapter 14
PROBLEM: HOW TO GET TO CHINA
Riding down on the elevator Harry smiled to himself; old Joe hadn't lost any of his street savvy, the old fox! He'd spotted the gun, probably expected it; he was still the deadly adversary. Harry knew he'd have to be on the defensive all through their partnership. There was no telling at this point whether he was being set up for a double cross. Be on guard, he warned himself.
The elevator door opened and he stepped out onto the main floor.
"Hold the elevator!" a man's booming voice called sharply.
Instinctively, Harry reached back to hold the doors open. Turning, he saw the portly cigar-smoking doctor hurrying for the elevator, still puffing on his cigar. As he got close, Harry removed his hand and the elevator doors snapped shut.
"Oops," Harry said wearing a sarcastic smile on his face as he strode past the wheezing doctor toward the lobby.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" the doctor muttered after Harry.
Retribution, Harry thought as he zipped up his jacket. Blow smoke in my face. Hah! God, I feel good! He pulled his collar tight around his neck, got his ignition key in hand, pulled on his gloves and headed out the door into the storm. It was blowing hard with snow gusting across the parking lot in billowing white clouds.
Walking with his head bent, shielding himself from the storm, Harry almost ran into a couple of men heading toward the hospital. Glancing up, he'd caught sight of them at the last moment, a bearded guy and an Oriental. Abruptly, he moved sharply to his right to avoid them. It was safer to stay away from strangers. Even in winter there was a high incidence of muggings in Saginaw, even in a hospital parking lot.
At his car, he unlocked the door, started the engine, and then let it idle for a few minutes before driving away. He glanced at his watch. It was 8:45 p.m. The duty nurse should have kicked him out of there at 8:30. His visit had lasted longer than he had intended. Sandy was probably furious by now, especially if she was stuck with Butch and Marlene. Knowing them, they'd be laying it on heavy suggesting he'd probably stepped out on her, was probably making out with some other female.
He drove south on Michigan Avenue. It was slippery. He slowed down for better control of the car. Another few blocks and he'd be there and straighten things out with Sandy. Maybe they could still catch a late dinner, take in a disco and wind up the night enjoying each other in her bed.
How the hell was he going to get to China? The thought was there constantly, and compelling to the point of irritation. Two million bucks! All for the taking - if it was still there!
The whole idea was so damned far-fetched. It was like the other get rich schemes he'd pursued. He'd already spent a small fortune on the Michigan lottery. Instant winner. Hah! They should have named it Instant Loser, a more accurate description of the game. Horse racing was equally costly. Now, he was faced with a two million dollar long shot.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I'll probably have to spend the fifteen hundred I saved for my vacation with Sandy on this damned wild-goose chase. If I fly to Japan or China it'll wipe me out. If there's nothing there, I'll really be flat-assed busted. China, half way around the damned world from Saginaw. Jeez!"
His thoughts shifted again. His passport was current, his sailing papers up to date. Maybe he could fly out to "Frisco" and ship out on a freighter headed for China. But his thoughts kept shifting, fragmentary thoughts, how to get there, how to not spend every last cent, but always returning to point zero. How the hell was he going to pull it off?
He peered through the thick snow building up on t
he windshield. The glass was icing over. The worn wiper blades skimmed ineffectively over the icy buildup. His field of vision was getting smaller and smaller and the defrosters were laboring at full power. He was on Hamilton Street now, only three blocks from the Pub.
A police car was driving away as he came to a stop across the street from the Pub. Several people were clustered about talking and gesturing after the departed police car. Harry searched the crowd looking for a familiar face. "She must be inside," he said to himself.
Reaching under his sweater, he slipped the pistol out and slid it under the passenger seat. It wouldn't be cool to carry a piece inside the bar. Suddenly, he slammed back hard against his seat. "How the hell do I get to China? How the hell do I pull it off?"
It was aggravating. He had to come up with an answer, and soon. Joe was in bad shape. He didn't have a lot of time, not with cancer. The more he thought of it, the whole damned idea of getting to China, and the whole idea never left his mind for one moment since Joe told him where the cache was hidden, the more maddening the challenge of getting there became.
"Tomorrow. I'll think about China tomorrow!" He shrugged, smiling to himself. "Tomorrow." Yet, thoughts of China persisted. "How do I get to Tsingtao? Is the money still there? Hell, the chinks must have scoured the building thoroughly after the Marines pulled out. They must have found it - but maybe they didn't!"
He saw Ginger and Ted getting out of Ted's new Porsche and heading for the Pub. Ted was a "leech" and no one knew it better than Harry. "Better get in there and protect Sandy from his hot hands," he told himself.
China. He tried to ignore it, to push the thoughts aside, out of his mind, but it was like trying to ignore an elephant standing on your foot.
