by Alan Lee
To his surprise, Rocky didn’t swim frantic for the surface. He took hold of Beck again and kicked with his good leg. Manny did the same.
Lungs screaming, head about to burst, they tugged and pulled. The distant glittering sun kept retreating, mocking them. Halfway there, Rocky’s strength gave out. He couldn’t move himself, much less assist with Beck’s lifeless form. He started sinking.
Manny took Beck by the hair and kicked and swam until he saw stars, and at last the sea relented. He came up blowing water like a whale and sucking down sweet oxygen.
“Kevin,” he wheezed. “Take her.”
“Yo, where’d she come from?” Kevin the pilot grabbed her arm and held fast. The first Coast Guard boat was arriving, official voices blasting through speakers.
Manny took a deep breath. Then another. One more, and dove again.
Twenty second later he resurfaced with Rocky Rickard, cursing the man’s heavy sports jacket.
Kevin helped get Rocky aboard. Rocky laid face first on the boat’s deck and coughed water. Manny climbed wearily up the stern ladder and panted against a cushion.
Kevin said, “How many more down there?”
“That’s all I care about. The girl okay?”
“She’s breathing and I got the water out. You wanna go fetch the hot girl waving at us?”
“Not really. But we probably should.” He closed his eyes and winced. Everything hurt. “Then put us down at Old Bay Marina, near Fort Howard.”
“Dude, I think you got metal in your face, maybe. What’re you, like James Bond or something?”
“Yeah.” Manny grinned and wiped the sea out of his eyes. “I’m exactly like that. But American and with better hair. Don’t tell anyone.”
Final Chapter
Sunlight faded fast at the Marina, giving way to purple twilight. Manny, Beck, Rocky, Benjamin Curtis, and Varvara sat under an oak tree and watched Kevin motor into the distance as the Coast Guard worked on Only the Innocent. For the moment, they were ensconced in an envelope of peace and privacy.
Manny’s blue Tesla waited in the nearby empty parking lot, it’s windshield still smashed.
Manny checked the tourniquet on Rocky’s leg again. The man had refused an ambulance, instead calling his personal physician, who should be arriving any minute. His stock had risen in Manny’s opinion—the man had fought a shark for Beck, after all.
Beck’s complexion was green and gray, but she’d live. She took Manny’s hand when he pushed her hair back and she squeezed it. “Thank you, Sinatra.”
“Don’t thank me, mamita. Thank Señor Rickard. Man risked his life for you, got his leg half bit off, and pulled you to safety until he passed out underwater. Like I said, American gangsters are the best gangsters.”
Rocky took her other hand. “Worth it. For a second date.”
“Absolutely. But I might throw up again. I’m thinking about it right now.”
Varvara lay flat on her back, staring at the leaves and breathing heavily. The day had been too much and she seemed incapable of communicating. Manny liked her better silent anyway.
Benjamin Curtis had not been released from his bonds yet and he knew better than to protest. He watched Manny with a fair amount of trepidation and awe.
“Louis, of course, is disqualified from the poker tournament. Which means first and second place get to split twenty-five million dollars,” said Rocky.
“Jen and I chopped. She…” Beck paused to swallow a wave of nausea. “She gave me thirty-five percent. So I only get a little less than nine million.”
Rocky smiled. “Only.”
“You get nine million? You do?” said Manny.
“You know what I mean. You, me, Varvara, Anatoly, Benjamin Curtis, someone gets nine million.”
Manny sat next to the governor. Took a deep breath. It hurt. Used his pocket knife to begin sawing at Benjamin’s wrist and ankle bindings. “We use seven million of it to buy off the Kings. Means Curtis is free and clear. Sí?”
“Correct. His debts are paid. I’ll take care of it and forward you the rest.”
“We give Varvara a million to start her new life. And maybe Beck and I use the remainder to go on vacation.”
Softly from Varvara, “Da, I have million.”
“If anyone is taking Ms. Beck on vacation, it’s me,” said Rocky.
“You can both come with,” she said. “After I’ve dried out. Might be a while.”
With a final snap, Benjamin was free. He ripped out the gag. “About time, pal. I need a phone. The media has to be howling for me by now.”
“What you need to do is listen.” Manny raised his knife to point at him. “You defiled America. And you’re the guy charged with preserving it.”
“You’re right, damn it, and I know it. It’ll never happen again, Sinatra, on my honor. I’m a changed man. I owe you my life and I won’t forget.”
“You’re free from the Kings. You’re free from the British assassin. You’re—”
“Oliver Wright is dead?” asked Beck sleepily.
“He is.”
“Hot damn, Sinatra. You’re a real friend, you know that.”
Beck said, “I knew you’d kill him, Sinatra. The planet isn’t big enough for both of you.”
Manny’s knife remained pointed at the governor. “I have enough dirt to bury you. Send you to prison. Comprende?”
“Oh, I know it. You can trust me.”
“You have one month to resign.”
“Resign?” yelped Curtis. “From office? For what?”
“For everything. You made promises to America and you broke them. This country deserves better. You get a month and if you’re still in office I will arrest you with a thousand cameras watching.”
“But…you can’t…” Curtis looked at Beck and Rocky for help, mouth agape.
“He bought your life,” said Rocky. “You’d rather be dead, you stupid son of a bitch?”
“But…I’m free of everything, you said it yourself, Sinatra.”
“America, land of the free. Home of mercy and justice. This is how we satisfy both, Curtis. You get mercy but you step down. One month and then you’re out, but no jail time. Saves America the scandal. Best for everyone, including our Vice President.”
Curtis laid himself on the ground next to Varvara, like two dead fish. “Christ, Sinatra, I thought you were my friend.”
“Accept my deal before I change my mind.”
“You drive a hard bargain, pal.”
“Beck and I, we just beat the American mafia, the British mafia, the Russian mafia, and a maniac from France. All for a governor the people were duped into voting for, which means right now I’m king of the mountain, and I don’t make bargains, pal, I give orders. You quit or you go to jail.”
“Ooooh,” said Varvara, just loud enough for them to hear. “Sexy talk from American agent. We get married now. I have million.”
Three dark sedans pulled into their secluded part of the Marina simultaneously. The first to emerge was a man who knelt by Rocky’s side and examined his leg with a penlight. He stuck two needles into Rocky’s thigh and lowered the plungers, probably morphine and antibiotics, and said, “We can save your leg, Mr. Rickard, but we need to move quickly.”
“With pleasure. We’re bringing Ms. Beck…I mean, Ms. Annie Doyle with us.”
“No. Thank you, Rocky, but I stay with Sinatra. We’re a team.”
“Annie, I can provide you with the finest medical treatment on earth. I would like to.”
“I don’t need the finest. Mediocre will do. But…” She paused and smiled indulgently. “If you truly fought a shark, you have my permission to call me.”
“I will be, even without your permission, Ms. Doyle.”
Manny’s stomach twisted, watching the back and forth. He wasn’t jealous. No one would call it jealousy, he thought. Anger, maybe. More of a professional concern for Beck, making arrangements with a mafia consultant.
Beside her car, Senior Special
Agent Weaver listened with her arms crossed. She muttered, “All my agents date high profile criminals. Wonder how that’ll look when I’m dragged in front of a Senate oversight committee.”
From his place sitting on the ground, Manny called to Weaver. “This one, the Russian, she needs to disappear. The Solntevskaya Bratva might be angry at her soon.”
“You didn’t kill them all?” said Weaver.
“Only the ones nearby.”
Weaver banged her palm on the roof of the third car and two men got out. They helped hoist Varvara to her feet and she followed them in a daze. She cast a final look at Manny over her shoulder. “You come soon? We are rich?”
“You get plenty,” said Manny with a half wave. “And you get the land of opportunity.”
Varvara nodded to herself as though this made sense and she allowed herself to be lowered in the back seat of the car. Before the door closed, they heard her say, “I have million.” The two men returned to the front and their car drove away, carrying Varvara out of danger and into the witness protection program, which Manny assumed she’d quickly leave out of boredom.
“Speaking of disappearing,” said Weaver. “Sinatra and Beck, you two need to vanish. After the firefight on the bridge and the sinking yacht, every news organization on earth is here or will be soon. They’re calling it the most destructive battle between crime syndicates on American soil in decades. So you were never here.”
“None of us was ever here. You have my word,” said Rocky Rickard, gingerly making his way to the car with the help of his concierge physician.
“No guarantees, Rickard. Depends on the report I get from my agents. Best you don’t leave the country,” said Weaver. “Meantime, Sinatra, you’re needed in surgery. You look like hell.”
“Hell on its best day, maybe.”
“What’s your recommendation about the governor?”
“Let him walk home. He’s got a lot to think about.”
“We’re not arresting him?” said Weaver and she hauled Beck to her feet.
“Not yet. Giving him a month. Cause I’m a generous and patient American hero.” Manny stood and braced himself against the oak tree, fighting sudden lightheadedness.
Weaver got Beck to the car and came for Manny. “You have slivers of metal sticking out of your chest, Sinatra. You fight and lose against a grenade?”
“Hah. For America, I have not yet begun to fight.”
“Only you say this crap, Sinatra.”
“Only I care enough to.”
“Have a good evening, Mr. Governor. We’ll be in touch. Very soon,” said Weaver.
Manny slid into the back next to Beck, and closed the door. The car eased forward, Weaver at the wheel and talking into her phone. Manny took Beck’s hand again and squeezed, saying a silent prayer, thankful she’d survived. She was nearly asleep but she returned the pressure.
Outside their cocoon of quiet, the Tesla made a beeping noise, reversed from the parking spot, and followed autonomously.
Lying on the grass, Benjamin Curtis felt like he was falling. He’d lost his life and found it again many times in the past two days. He stared upward at twilight, wondering about his future. And his past. Wondering about questions he’d soon have to answer. And wondering about the man named Sinatra.
The End
A note from the author—
Enjoy the novel? What are you going to read next?
May I suggest a mystery series? Manny Martinez is one of the main characters. Click here. Or turn the page and I’ll send you book one for free.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Wild Card. (You did) If you’re lucky, you might just catch me playing Hold’Em at the MGM National Harbor casino one day soon.
For clarification purposes, not all of Sinatra’s opinions reflect my own. I have nothing against England or France or any other lovely place that Sinatra disparaged in the book. His patriotism can be hard to control.
I’m an independent author without the backing or resources of a massive publisher. I rely on word-of-mouth and Amazon reviews to thrive. If you’re so inclined, leaving a review (good or bad) helps a lot.
More Manny adventures are inbound. Stay tuned.
If you’d like to read my mystery series starring Mackenzie August (you do), click here and I’ll send you the first novel free. Manny is a big part of these books.
Cheers!
