Authors: Michael Murphy
I fought to get up, but a knee in my back kept me pinned to the floor. The man yanked my hands behind my back. Once again I found myself in handcuffs. A broad-shouldered guard pulled me to my feet.
“Enough!” Greenwoody pulled me away from the guard. “There’s been enough violence and brutality.”
A malevolent cackle came from the next room. In a pin-striped suit and spats, Spencer Dalrymple entered with the smirk I’d seen far too often. He calmly stood in front of Greenwoody. “Even generals must follow orders, General Greenwoody.”
The two men stared at each other, giving me a flicker of hope. Perhaps Dalrymple’s gang of traitors was not so united behind him. First Averill Cornwell; now Oliver Greenwoody appeared to disapprove of the Golden Legion’s trail of murder and violence.
Greenwoody blinked. “Of course.”
Dalrymple nodded to the guard with a bloody nose. “Take the general and his family to my limo.”
The guard escorted the Greenwoodys from the room. Only Dorothy glanced at me with a look of regret and uncertainty.
Dalrymple gave me the once-over. “Apparently rumors of your demise were a bit premature, Donovan.” He touched the sleeve of my Rutgers sweatshirt. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“If you’ve harmed Laura, I’ll kill you, like I killed your Nazi friend, Baron Karl Friedman. Did they find all his pieces?”
Dalrymple’s smile never wavered. He held his hand toward the open doorway. “Come, darling. See for yourself. He’s all right.”
Laura entered wearing the same white chiffon dress she wore to the hospital. She threw both arms around me, her tears warm against my neck. “They told me you’d been killed.”
“We’ll get out of this.”
“Your lover doesn’t always grasp reality. He should be a writer.” Dalrymple chuckled then pulled Laura away from me. He wiped her tears with a handkerchief. “You must freshen up. We’ll be meeting the president later.”
Laura stiffened. “I’ve had enough of you ordering me around. I won’t go.”
Dalrymple’s face twisted in rage. He snapped his fingers to the guard. “Shoot him.”
“No!” Laura screamed.
The guard aimed his Luger at my head, but Dalrymple held up one hand. He smiled at Laura. “If you want him to live, you must play a part tonight.”
“I can’t. I won’t.” She spit into his face.
That’s my Laura.
“Your lover dies, here, now, unless you do as you’re told.” Dalrymple calmly wiped his face with the handkerchief. “Remember, darling, you’re an actress. That’s why I proposed, after all.” He gestured toward the guard. “Take this dirty mick to my house. In the morning I’ll turn him over to the new order.” He winked at me. “I did promise you that ocean view at Alcatraz.”
I struggled to free myself from the cuffs. Only the cold steel kept me from ripping the man’s face from his head.
Laura’s misty eyes pleaded for my understanding. When I nodded, her face transformed into the role of dutiful fiancée. She slipped her arm in Dalrymple’s. “Come, Spencer. We mustn’t be late.”
Chapter 19
Thursday Night Fights at the Garden
My flicker of optimism when Greenwoody stood up to Dalrymple vanished when a Dalrymple guard led the war hero and his family away. This was the man on the white horse who would lead the country out of the Great Depression?
Laura left the hotel suite with Spencer Dalrymple III. Even though her cooperation might keep me alive, I might end up in prison for the rest of my life and never see her again.
“Let’s go.” The guard whose nose I’d bloodied stuffed Gino’s gun into his jacket and shoved me into the next room with my hands cuffed behind me.
A Blackshirt waited with a smirk on his face. “Remember me?” The guard in the alley outside Al’s Pool Hall who probably broke Frankie’s ribs.
“I’m trying to forget.”
He pulled a ten-inch knife from inside his black shirt. “If Mr. Dalrymple hadn’t ordered us to keep you alive, I’d kill you and enjoy every second as you screamed away your final breaths.”
His attitude restored some of my self-assurance. “That’s very poetic. May I use it in my next novel?”
“There ain’t going to be no next novel.” Flaring nostrils were my only warning as he head-butted me.
I stumbled backward then offered my cuffed hands to the Dalrymple guard. “Will you unlock these cuffs for a moment so I can give this idiot a proper thrashing?”
“Get going.” The guard yanked me across the room and into the corridor. At the elevator, the door opened. The Blackshirt drew a gun and aimed it at a startled elevator operator. “Beat it, old man.”
“Yes, sir.” The operator stumbled from the elevator and hurried down the corridor.
The Blackshirt shoved me inside while his partner closed the door and pressed the button to the first floor with the barrel of his gun.
In the lobby, the guards holstered their weapons. With my hands cuffed behind me, guests gawked like I might be one of Al Capone’s boys. The guards led me outside to a black sedan and opened the rear door.
I climbed into the backseat unable to shake the feeling of defeat. Since returning to the
city, I’d dodged my share of close calls. I might be able to outsmart these guys, but I couldn’t imagine how I could get out of this jam in time to stop the coup and save Laura. Would Dalrymple still need her after he and the Golden Legion assumed power?
The driver, with a toothpick in his mouth, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Hello, Jake.”
Frankie?
Frankie Malzone turned and pointed a gun at the startled Blackshirt guard. “I’m going to enjoy this, tough guy. Hand over your piece, and uncuff Jake.”
“And your knife,” I added.
Outside the car, the second guard reached for the door handle, clearly oblivious to what was occurring inside the sedan. Danny and Gino sprang from the back of a cab parked in front of the car and rushed him from behind. Pedestrians stared as Danny shoved the man against the passenger door.
Gino grabbed the guard’s handcuffs and locked both his hands behind his back. Danny handed the man’s gun to Gino, who stuffed it inside his suit coat.
Frankie kept his eyes on the guard beside me. “Forget about your partner. From this distance, I can’t miss.”
“Sure, sure.” His hands shook as he gave Frankie his pistol and knife. He removed a set of keys from his belt. The keys jingled in his shaking hands.
“It’s beginning to sound a lot like Christmas.” Frankie cocked the gun. “Hurry it up.”
I turned my back to the guard, who unlocked my handcuffs.
Frankie spit out the toothpick. “Cuff the bastard, Jake.”
The guard handed the keys to me. “I … I didn’t really mean what I said earlier about wanting to kill you.”
“And enjoy watching me scream away my final breaths.” I locked the guard’s left wrist to his ankle. “No offense.” I slammed my elbow into his face.
He rolled his tongue around his mouth and spit out a tooth as I climbed from the car.
While the crowd dispersed, I peered over the car at Gino. We had a lot of work to do before Laura was safe, but I’d be a corpse without Gino, Danny, and Frankie. “Thanks, goombah.”
“Don’t mention it.” He nodded to my Model A parked across the street. “Danny and Frankie will take care of these bums. You and me’ll save Laura. Think she’s at the Garden?”
“I’m counting on it. The president’s speech starts in less than two hours.”
“Time’s a-wastin’.” Gino shoved the guard into the back of the car and slammed the door.
Danny opened the passenger door. “Me and Frankie’ll keep these bums on ice while you
go after Laura.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
Danny grinned. “I do.” He climbed inside and aimed one of the guard’s guns at the two men in the backseat. He waved as Frankie drove off.
Horns honked as Gino and I dodged traffic. We climbed inside the Model A, and Gino started the car. “That went just like we rehearsed.”
“When did you have time to rehearse?”
“While you was inside talking your way into trouble.” Gino pointed to my blue pin-striped suit hanging above the backseat. “You told me to bring you some clothes. The rest, about deciding to bust some heads, I did that on my own.”
“I’m glad you did.” I pulled off the sweatshirt. Changing would’ve been easier in a phone booth.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Plan? Security will be tight at the Garden. I’m not even sure how we’ll get in.”
“Got that covered.” Gino winked. “I know a guy.”
I slipped into my blue trousers and fed the belt through the loops. I grabbed my black shoes from the backseat. “Where are my socks?”
“Socks?” Gino shrugged. “Guess you gotta wear the ones you got.”
“Black shoes with white socks?”
Gino burst out laughing. “You ungrateful bastard. Laura’s been kidnapped, the government’s hanging by a thread, and you’re worried your socks might clash with your outfit.”
“I’m worried I might stand out.”
“Sure you are. I remember when we used to think socks without holes meant dressing up.”
I tied my shoes then finished cinching my tie in the rearview mirror as he found a parking space in the crowded lot. “Better leave the gun. We don’t want to get pinched before we get in.”
Gino stuffed the gun beneath the seat.
We joined the crowd heading to the Garden. I still hadn’t come up with a plan to rescue Laura. She and Dalrymple would be surrounded by his goons. I didn’t know whether Stoddard and Kennedy had succeeded in convincing the feds the threat was real, but I couldn’t count on them. I had to save Laura, and all I had on my side was the element of surprise, Gino, and the grit that came so easily to us as kids back in Queens.
We stopped near the entrance where four lines snaked their way toward ticket-takers in dark blue uniforms and Garden caps. Gino nodded toward one of the female ticket-takers. “You see the blonde with the big … nice smile? She’s
the guy
I know.”
With my watch somewhere in the North Atlantic, I checked Gino’s while we stood in
line. Roosevelt was scheduled to speak in an hour. We reached the front of the line.
The blonde ticket-taker smiled. “Hey, Gino. I ain’t heard from you in months. Then outta nowheres, you give me a jingle.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “This is my friend from Florida I told you about.”
“Sure.” She let us through. “What time you picking me up Saturday?”
Gino shrugged. “Seven?”
She smiled. “Perfect.”
Gino and I walked away. He thumbed back toward the blonde. “Don’t say nothin’ about this to Stella.”
The Yankee Club cigarette girl? “You and Stella getting serious?”
“No. Maybe. Who knows?”
We blended into the crowd. I tugged my hat down over my eyes so no one would recognize me. Security was as tight as I suspected. We climbed the stairs and stepped onto the third-level concourse. From the top of the aisle we gazed over at least ten thousand people waiting to hear Roosevelt talk about the New Deal.
A blue backdrop hung behind the stage where a lectern with the White House seal faced a military band. I shaded my eyes from the lights and peered through the cigarette smoke clinging to the ceiling. “Wish I had binoculars.”
“Just a second.” Gino went up to a large woman wearing a fur stole peering through a set of opera glasses. “Excuse me, madam, but that’s a lovely fur.” When she fanned herself with one hand, he pointed to the glasses. “Do you enjoy the opera? My favorite is
La Traviata
. That Violetta’s some dish, you know? May I borrow your glasses?”
She handed them to Gino. He passed them to me and whispered, “Hurry it up, I’m running out of compliments.”
The crowd buzzed with excitement. The press section on the second level overlooked the stage. I spotted Laura’s white dress one section closer to the stage. My heart slammed into my chest as I focused on her unsmiling face beside Dalrymple. He sat on the aisle smiling and twirling his hat like he had a tip on a long shot at the Kentucky Derby. The Greenwoodys, the rest of the Golden Legion, and a couple dozen security guards filled the seats in the section. Rescuing Laura wouldn’t be easy.
I gave the woman her glasses back and thanked her with a tip of my hat. We made our way down the stairs.
Gino walked behind me. “Sorry about forgetting your socks. You do kind of stand out.”
I shot him a look as we entered the noisy, crowded concourse and took the aisle leading to the Dalrymple contingent.
“Took you long enough.” A familiar voice came from behind. Landon Stoddard. Beside
him stood two unsmiling men with holster bulges beneath their blue suit coats. “There’s someone who needs to talk to you.”
“Who?”
Stoddard pointed toward a door labeled C
USTODIANS
O
NLY
beside the men’s room. “Don’t have time to explain.”
Gino and I hurried after him. At the door, Stoddard held up one hand. “Just Jake.”
“You okay with this?” Gino asked.
I nodded. While Gino waited with the two agents, I followed Stoddard through the door. Inside Joseph Kennedy paced the small, uncomfortably warm room. A wobbly ceiling fan stirred the air above a wooden table where Oliver Greenwoody wiped his brow with a damp handkerchief. A guard stood adjacent to a door on the restroom side of the room, staring at his watch.
Greenwoody jumped to his feet. “You found him.”
“We spotted Jake the minute he and his friend came in.” Stoddard took off his hat and wiped his brow.
Greenwoody nodded toward the wall connected to the restroom. “We don’t have much time before Dalrymple’s guards start searching the stalls.”
What was this all about?
“For some reason he only trusts you.” Kennedy gestured toward Greenwoody.
Greenwoody led me to a corner and stuffed a piece of paper in my hand. I glanced at the number 492. “What’s this?”
He lowered his voice so only I could hear. “There’s a briefcase with a combination lock in the safe at the Plaza.”
I nodded toward Kennedy. “I think you can trust him. He’s—”
“I trust you. More important, my daughter trusts you. What you do with the contents of the briefcase is your own business.” He slipped me an envelope. “Here’s a letter authorizing the hotel to release the briefcase to you if … if things don’t go well.”