Mickey's Wars

by Dave McDonald

  Kate turned, eyed me, and winked. “Well, I guess you’ve got yourself a real posse, Mick, whether you want it or not.”

  Ten minutes later, Hodges stopped the Plymouth behind my Hudson, parked around the corner from the grocery store’s infamous parking lot. I hopped out of the Plymouth, unlocked, and opened the Hudson’s trunk. My BAR, my pistols, and my ammo were there.

  “Quite an arsenal, Mick,” Kate said over my shoulder.

  “A perk for being a firing range instructor.” I took out a Colt .45 automatic and three loaded magazines and stuffed them in my pants pockets. Then I turned and faced her. “The fun and games are over, Kate. Neither you nor Hodges are coming with me. Give your dad my regards when you get back to Asheville.”

  I unlocked the driver’s door and opened it.

  She grabbed my arm. “Mick, I’m going with you.”

  “That foundation of truth we talked about, well here’s the bottom line. You won’t want what’s left of me after Sara leaves. Now go home and find someone who’ll be totally dedicated to you.” I gently removed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  I got in the Hudson, closed and locked the door, and turned the key. Nothing.

  Hodges tooted his horn and held up a thick wire. “Think you may need this battery cable, Sergeant. And, by the way, Hoover’s deal with the Admiral was a trade; your freedom for the girl. But first, the FBI gets the girl.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-Five

  Hodges drove his Plymouth and Kate rode shotgun. I was in the back seat trying to digest Hodges words about Hoover’s deal with the JAG Corps Admiral.

  Sara’s words about the extensive reach of the Mafia rang in my ears. “You’re not with JAG Corps are you?” I asked. My .45 cocked and aimed at his back.

  “What made you think that?” Hodges asked.

  “I don’t think a lawyer would’ve gone to all this trouble in order to personally go after Sara. A lawyer would’ve called in the cavalry instead of putting himself in harm’s way.”

  “I am a lawyer, and a Lieutenant Commander, but, you’re right, I’m not with the JAG Corps. I’m a Pacific UDT staff commander.”

  “I’ve heard of the UDT’s,” I said, “a crack outfit that makes the Marine landings possible.” I slid forward on the seat. “The Underwater Demolition Teams cleared Wonsan Harbor in North Korea before we landed there.”

  “You were at Wonsan?” Hodges asked.

  “Yeah. Me and twenty-eight-thousand other Marines.”

  “Well we have something in common then.”

  “So what is your involvement with me?”

  “Like I said, the deal was you for the girl. I was sent to both represent you legally as best I could and to protect you. Medal of Honor recipients are valuable assets to Uncle Sam, and you had tapped swords with the mob. The brass wanted someone trustworthy to both watch over you and to assure the girl was delivered to the Feds.”

  “How do I know any of this is true?”

  “Think about it. Anyone else would have been charged with homicide by now.”

  Kate nodded her head. “That’s true. I was wondering why you hadn’t been charged by now? I read the report. Several witnesses saw you shoot two men with no provocation. Trust me, if that incident had happened in Asheville, JAG would still be trying to get you out of our jail. And Asheville PD is small potatoes compared to Columbia.”

  Their words made sense. I eased the hammer down on the 45.

  “Well I guess I owe you after all. And I’m glad you’re going with me to rescue Sara. No matter where she goes, the mob always finds her. And my gut tells me it’s just a matter of time ‘til they find her again.”

  “You’ve got me heading south, where is she?”

  “She’s at our old apartment in Savannah. I knew that when she left all the surgical masks tied inside the Caddy. But that’s another story.” I glanced at Kate.

  “And how did you get involved, Miss O’Shaughnessy?” Hodges asked.

  “Mick and I met in Asheville, North Carolina, a while back and . . . and we-”

  “We became friends,” I said. “Kate comes from good stock, her dad’s an ex-jarhead.”

  “You can always tell a Marine, you just can’t tell him much,” Hodges said.

  “Funny, real funny. You Navy pukes are all alike, bobbing around out in the ocean, or in your case under it, while real men take the beaches.”

  “Now, now, boys,” Kate said. “We’re all on the same team.”

  “Yes, we are,” Hodges said, extending his right hand over the seat for me to shake.

  Three hours later, we arrived in Savannah a block away from Sara’s and my old apartment.

  “You guys stay in the car, and I’ll go check the place out,” I said. “I’ll make sure we don’t have any unwanted company. Then I’ll come back, and the Lieutenant Commander and I will go in and get Sara. I pray she’s there.”

  “Your plan stinks,” Hodges said. “Everybody and their brother knows you, Mick. I should be the one to reconnoiter the apartment.”

  “Have you two looked in a mirror lately?” Kate asked. “In those uniforms you stand out like super tall Lincoln in his two-foot high top hat at Gettysburg. While me, I just look like another beat cop. Plus, I need to call my dad so he can call my boss. I’m not going to make it back for work today. Any of y’all got any dimes?”

  “She’s right,” Hodges said, digging in his pocket.

  I reached over the seat and touched her shoulder. “Kate, just check to see if anyone suspicious is loitering in the area. Then get back here. If there’s no one there, we’ll park in front of the apartment building, and you can keep watch while the Lieutenant Commander and I go get Sara. Understood?”

  “Yes,” she said, head down counting her dimes.

  “It’s the three-story brick apartment building in the middle of the block. You can’t miss it. Just be careful. These guys are deadly. We’ll wait for you here.”

  “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” Kate checked her gun and then got out of the Plymouth.

  Chapter One-Hundred-Six

  It was getting close to rush hour in Savannah. I didn’t know about Hodges, but waiting wasn’t my favorite thing to do.

  The only thing I had to do was check my watch, and I did it frequently. In exactly fourteen minutes Kate returned to Hodges’ Plymouth.

  Kate hopped in. “As a Navy man would say, ‘the coast is clear.’”

  “Cute,” Hodges said, starting the car.

  Seconds later, he parked in front of the entrance to the apartment building.

  “Kate,” I said. “If we’re not back in ten minutes, drive away, and go call the police.” I climbed out of the car with a .45 jammed in the front waistline of my pants and three magazines stuffed in my pants pockets. I looked up at the tall building, my gut reacting as if this were another enemy-occupied Korean mountain to take. Hopefully this would be my last mountain. Though that thought bought no solace to my quivering backbone.

  As Hodges and I, guns out and cocked, crossed the landing toward the steps to the second floor, he chuckled.

  I turned to him. “What in the hell can you find funny at a time like this?” I whispered. “There could be a dozen goons with submachine guns waiting for us up there.”

  He shook his head and whispered, “If Mae West could see you, she’d ask ‘Are your pockets stuffed with ammo, or are you just glad to see me?’”

  I glanced down at my bulging pants and couldn’t stop a muffled chuckle. The moment brought my heart rate back to double digits. I smacked his arm, then we cautiously made our way up the second flight.

  Both the stairs and connected hallways were empty.

  I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could to the door of our old apartment. Hodges was right behind me.

  I put an ear against the door and listened.

  “Don’t move,” a female voice ordered from behind me, across the hall.

  I looked over my shoulder. Sara stood in the doorway of the apa
rtment across the hall with a pistol pointed at us. Her eyes large, but her hands steady.

  “Sara, it’s me,” I said half-turning.

  “I know Mick, but who’s the joker following you?”

  “He’s a good guy. Put the gun-”

  She was in my arms, her lips on mine, her mouth consuming my words.

  Stitches strained and a familiar pain stabbed through the wound in my chest, but I didn’t care. My whole being was lost in her jasmine, her soft body, her exploring tongue.

  As quickly as she arrived she pulled away, before I could respond. “God, I missed you. Are you okay?” Her eyes scanned me.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We have to go. They’re on their way.” She opened the door to our apartment and rushed in. “I need to get something. One of you go check the stairs.”

  Hodges ran to the top of the staircase.

  “How do you know they’re on their way?” I called after her.

  In a flash she returned, a fat folder under her arm. She closed the door and locked it. Taking me by the arm, she pulled me toward the stairs. “I still have a friend in the family,” she whispered. “That’s how I knew they’d be in Asheville the last time we were in the Forrest Manor Motel. And I just got a call. Johnny was just given this address over the phone, and a Savannah goon-squad has been summoned.”

  At the top of the stairway, Hodges raised an arm, a movement I’d seen too many times from the point man when on a patrol.

  I stopped Sara and raised my forefinger to my lips.

  Hodges turned and ran toward us on his toes, pointing at the door across the hall from our apartment, the one Sara had come from.

  The three of us dashed in and closed the door, locking it.

  Hodges held up six fingers. Two-to-one; bad odds.

  Ear to the door, I listened. Minutes ticked silently, then a shoe scrapped on the floor in the hallway. My old spine tingle born and nurtured in Korea, came to life. They had arrived, a paneled door away. A wood splintering crash was followed by multiple pairs of feet pounding the floor.

  Sara pulled Hodges and I to a rear window in the vacant apartment. She opened it and climbed out onto a fire escape.

  In minutes, we were in an alley sprinting for the street.

  We stopped short of the street. Panting, I eased my way to the end of the alley and peeked around the corner of the apartment building. Kate stood on the sidewalk talking to two men.

  I turned to Sara and Hodges. “We’re okay. Kate has called the police. Man, they got here quick.”

  “Kate?” Sara asked.

  We didn’t have time for me to explain who Kate was. I started to walk around the corner, and Sara grabbed my arm, tugging me back into the alley. I sighed.

  Sara glimpsed around the corner. She shook her head. “The only cop out there is the woman. And did I tell you, my friend told me it was a woman who called Johnny and gave him our Savannah address?”

  No one except my parents knew our old address. My mind raced. Asheville. The apparent chance meeting. No. Not Kate. She seemed so genuine, so, so always showing up when I least expected her. So insistent on coming with us to find Sara.

  “Now I understand why she was so adamant about checking out the apartment and making a phone call,” Hodges said. “She made a call all right.”

  My stomach knotted. But why Asheville? There was nothing in that small town that would interest the Mafia. That made no sense. A head-dropping thought sucked air from me. I was in Asheville. They had followed me. And they needed someone to get close to me, someone I would trust enough to eventually tell where Sara was hiding. A cop.

  “Do you have a car?” Sara asked.

  “Yeah, the Plymouth parked right in front of the building,” Hodges said.

  “Is Kate someone special?” Sara looked at Hodges and then me.

  “I, ah, I thought she was a friend,” I said, my gut boiling.

  “We need to take them out so we can get to the car before the rest of their crew gets here and starts searching,” Sara said. “We’ll be trapped if we stay in this alley.”

  “Not Kate, unless we have to.” I stared into Sara’s cold blue eyes. “Okay?”

  “You of all people should know soft will get you killed.”

  “Okay?” I asked firmly.

  She nodded.

  Chapter One-Hundred-Seven

  Savannah’s rush hour had started. The streets and sidewalks were filling. I stepped out of the alley next to my old apartment building with my .45 cocked and aimed at Kate, who was facing me. Her two new friends had their backs to us. Sara and Hodges were on each side of me, also with pistols aimed.

  Kate saw us, turned, and then took a step backwards, a guilty step. She raised her arms skyward.

  The two thugs reacted, looking over their shoulders and then drawing weapons. One of them jumped behind Kate. I shot the other one twice.

  Pedestrians scattered, cars either stopped or sped past.

  Another shot boomed close to me. Kate screamed and her lifted hands dropped to one of her legs. As she fell, Hodges and Sara both fired. The man who had used Kate as a shield clutched his chest and fell backwards.

  “C’mon,” Hodges said, grabbing Sara by the arm and running toward his Plymouth.

  I ran to Kate and helped her up. She yelped in pain. “You’ll be okay, just lean on me and hop.”

  I did my best to barely jog with the one-legged Kate toward the car.

  Wayne and Sara were already inside the car, with the rear door opened. The motor roared to life.

  “At first it was the money, a lot of money for me.” Kate looked up at me, grimacing with each hop. “Then it was even more money and . . . and my dad’s life.” She sniffed back a tear.

  “Save your breath and move.”

  I saw movement to my right. A man, two, no, three had come out of the apartment building with guns drawn.

  Just strides away from the opened rear door of the Plymouth, I gave Kate a shove in the direction of the car. I dropped, and sprayed two rounds, somehow hitting the lead man.

  More poured out of the building and too many shots boomed as if the only thing lacking were the bugles.

  Kate was down; I didn’t have time to figure out why.

  “Go, drive!” I yelled at Hodges, as bullets plunked into the Plymouth.

  The car lurched forward.

  Chunks of concrete were exploding all around me. I jerked as a bolt of fire lit up my leg. Somehow I held my focus and shot a man and then another.

  Shots came from my left, close to me. Kate, on her belly, had her weapon drawn and was firing at the three remaining hoods as they dodged for cover into the recessed entrance of the apartment building.

  I fired one more wild shot and was empty.

  Weapons boomed spouting yellow strings from the darkness of the entrance.

  Kate fired away as I frantically reloaded.

  Kate’s weapon stopped firing. I glanced, and she was sprawled face first on the concrete. Wide-opened eyes, fixed on nothing.

  A missile of flame tore into my side, causing me to drop my gun.

  Then the Plymouth sped out of nowhere bouncing over the curb and slashed across the sidewalk, crashing head first into the doorway where the thugs had taken refuge. Men screamed, followed by several more shots and then nothing. Just a peaceful, quiet which Korea had taught me to pray for, in which to relish, unwind, and celebrate survival. As my pain rapidly approached unbearable, the quietness conquered all, and I floated away.

  Chapter One-Hundred-Eight

  Saint Joseph’s Hospital

  Savannah, Georgia

  “-his femur bone.” The voice sounded a lot like Sara’s, but hushed and distant. “The doctor said they cleaned out all the fragments and stitched up the muscle, but he would require at least one or more surgeries for a bone graft.”

  “Sweet Jesus, hasn’t he been through enough?” Now that was definitely Mom’s voice. I’d know it anywhere.

  I open
ed my eyes and blinked away the brightness.

  “He’s got so many bullet holes in him now he looks like Fearless Fosdick,” Mom said.

  A second woman chuckled, sounding just like Sara. “Oh, you mean the guy from the comics, from ‘Dick Tracy’, the one who always is riddled with gunshot holes. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that’s funny.”

  It was Sara. My heart thudded in my sore chest. Sara was alive.

  “Why thank you, Sara,” Mom said. “I don’t think anyone has ever told me I was funny.”

  Oh my God, my mother and Sara were talking . . . together . . . to each other.

  My squinted eyes scanned the room. Everything was white. I was on a bed of some kind. There were tubes in me, everywhere, my nose, my chest, my hand, my leg. Something moved to my right, I turned my head, slowly.

  “Marion, look, he’s awake, Mick’s awake!”

  Sara was calling my mom by her first name. Where had I been? And for how long?

  “Mickey, son, welcome back.” Mom leaned in and kissed my cheek. “We’ve been so worried. Look who’s here with me. Sara.” Mom stepped aside.

  Sara, her black hair framing her moistened blue eyes moved in close. “Oh God, Mick, you’re-”she broke into sobs. Her head dropped to my pillow.

  “Hey, hey.” My voice sounded like sandpaper being rubbed against tree bark. “I’m okay. Look at me. Did I hear you call my mom Marion?”

  Mom laughed.

  Sara raised her tear-streaked face. “Mick, I’m sorry about your ah, so-called friend, Kate. Your mom told me what she knew about her. She sounded nice but obviously had issues. I’m sorry she used you,” she shook her head, “another lying woman; just what you needed. I’m sorry she was killed.” She wiped her cheeks. “I want you to know I will never lie to you ever again. And with that said, I kept my commitment to you. I’m not the one who shot Kate.”