Once In, Never Out

by Dan Mahoney

  “What the hell are you looking for?” Mulrooney said under his breath. “We’re behind you and getting close enough. You big dummy, you don’t have a clue.”

  But Pao did have a clue. When Ambery and Crowley were twenty feet from the carriage, they dropped their rakes and went for their guns. They weren’t fast enough. Pao pushed Janine to the ground and whirled around with his gun in his hand in one motion. Crouching, he stepped to the side and fired six quick shots, three for each. Ambery and Crowley crumpled to the ground while Pao looked around with his gun at eye level, searching the park for another target.

  “What the hell!” Mulrooney muttered. Pao’s quick action had momentarily stunned him and his aim was off. His sights were centered on the place Pao had been one second before. As Mulrooney adjusted his aim to this new set of circumstances, Pao saw the edge of Mulrooney’s head, his right arm protruding from the shed fifty feet from him, and the gun in Mulrooney’s hand. He fired again.

  Mulrooney felt the bullet pass through his right triceps, but that didn’t bother him. He had been shot before and was no stranger to pain. Another man might have dropped the gun, but not Mulrooney. He knew that the best way to eliminate the pain was to eliminate the source. He fired twice, hitting his target both times, center mass.

  Pao fell backward, dropping his gun as he clutched his chest. He thrashed on the ground, trying to get up, while Angelita hovered over him and Janine lay on the ground next to him, crying and frozen in shock.

  Mulrooney considered giving Pao another bullet, but then he noticed a curious thing. Pao’s legs weren’t working for him—he was paralyzed, but still a source of some danger. Pao had abandoned the idea of trying to get up; instead, he was trying to reach his gun, just three feet from his outstretched hand. He couldn’t, so he yelled, “Run, Angelita! Run!”

  But Angelita didn’t run. She couldn’t leave her children and she wouldn’t leave Pao, but she thought she had another option as she reached for Pao’s gun on the ground.

  She didn’t. Mulrooney fired again and the bullet ricocheted off the ground, inches from Pao’s pistol. Angelita froze, then calmly stood up and faced the shed.

  At the first shot, every reporter across the street and every other person in the park had either dropped to the ground or scrambled for cover. The scene reminded Mulrooney of an air raid drill, with everybody hiding or stretched out on the ground with their hands over their heads. It’s time to end this little drama, he thought. He shifted his pistol to his left hand, left the shed, and quickly walked toward his quarry with his gun extended in front of him. He kept aim on his target as he approached.

  Angelita still made no move, although she saw that Mulrooney wasn’t aiming at her. His pistol was centered on Janine, still lying on the ground and crying. “Keep quiet, Janine, and don’t move,” Angelita ordered. “Johnny’s going to be all right, but don’t move.”

  Janine obeyed, but Pao still moved. Lying on his back, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows so he could watch Mulrooney approach. There was a look of sheer hatred on Pao’s face.

  Mulrooney stopped at Ambery and Crowley and glanced down. He saw at once that Ambery was dead, hit in the chest with all three rounds, his unseeing eyes staring at the sky. Crowley’s eyes were also open, but he wasn’t dead. He was wounded, but he had been playing dead to avoid another shot from Pao. The bulletproof vest he was wearing under his shirt had saved him, but he had been knocked to the ground by the impact of Pao’s rounds. All three rounds had hit Crowley in the chest, but one had passed through his right arm first as he had reached across for the gun in his shoulder holster under his jacket.

  Mulrooney briefly considered shooting Crowley as the man looked up at him, but then he decided he still had use for him if he didn’t bleed to death first. “Get up,” he ordered, still keeping his aim on Janine. “That big bully can’t hurt you no more.”

  Crowley did as he was told. He rose and amused Mulrooney as he tried to get his gun out of his holster with his wounded arm. Although shot himself, Mulrooney decided to help him. Still keeping his sights on Janine, he reached under Crowley’s jacket with his wounded right arm, pulled out the pistol, and handed it to him. “C’mon, hard man,” he said sarcastically, loud enough for Angelita to hear. “If any of them moves, shoot the girl first. Then shoot the lovely Mrs. McKenna.”

  Crowley followed Mulrooney to Pao and the McKenna family. The twins were screaming, but nobody else was moving. While Crowley covered Janine, as ordered, Mulrooney stood over Pao. “You paralyzed?” he asked, pointing his pistol at Pao’s head.

  “Yeah, you prick,” Pao snarled up at him. “I hope your arm’s killing you, but I don’t feel a thing.”

  “My arm’s fine, but let’s see about you,” Mulrooney said. He quickly shifted his pistol and shot Pao once in the left knee.

  Both Crowley and Angelita jumped, but Pao didn’t flinch. “I told you, scumbag. You can’t hurt me,” Pao said. “If you’re such a good shot, why don’t you see if you can put one between my eyes.”

  “Please don’t shoot him again,” Angelita pleaded. “He can’t hurt you now.”

  “Shut up,” Mulrooney said, then turned his attention back to Pao. “You’d like me to kill you, wouldn’t you?” Mulrooney asked, but Pao didn’t answer. He just glared up at him.

  “No, big man. I’m not going to shoot you again,” Mulrooney said. He reached down, picked up Pao’s pistol, and tossed it near Ambery’s body. “When we leave, you can crawl over and do it yourself. I know I would, if I were you. But I do still feel like showing off a wee bit, so let’s see what else there is around here.”

  Mulrooney looked around, searching for a target, and then he found one. On the other side of the fence was the reporter who had started the whole thing. He was crouched behind a car, but his head was showing as he talked on his cell phone. Mulrooney shifted his aim from Pao for a second, fired once, and sent a bullet through the cell phone and through the reporter’s head. “That’s one you owe me. If you live long enough, tell McKenna that I’m in charge now,” he said to Pao, then turned his attention to Angelita. “You and your tyke are coming with us,” he said. “Pick her up and let’s go.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want, but please leave my baby here,” Angelita pleaded.

  “I’m leaving two of them here, but I’ll shoot those screaming brats now if you don’t mind me. Let’s go.”

  Angelita picked up Janine and the four walked to the East 21st Street gate as Pao started crawling for his pistol.

  McKenna picked Thor up in front of the hotel at nine-thirty. There was a constant stream of reports coming over the PD radio by then. O’Reilly had picked up the kids in Woodlawn and was at Bethesda Fountain with them, waiting for Mulrooney. The FBI radio was silent.

  Thor had just gotten into the car when a transmission came over both radios. “Base to all Manhattan units. We’re getting a report over the division radio of multiple shots fired in Gramercy Park. Thirteen Eddie is in pursuit of a black late-model Lincoln, eastbound on 20th Street from the park.”

  Could that have anything to do with us? McKenna wondered, but not for long. The next transmission convinced him that it did. “Base to all Manhattan units,” came shouted over. “Thirteen George reports that Sector Eddie has blown up, East 20th Street and First Avenue.”

  McKenna reached for the radio, but wherever he was, Sheeran got to his first. “Squad CO to Base. Are any units still in pursuit of that black Lincoln?”

  “Negative, Inspector. Thirteen George reports he was behind Eddie when the car blew up. The street’s blocked.”

  “Injuries?” Sheeran asked.

  “Yeah, Inspector. It sounds bad.”

  Fifth Avenue had been cleared of traffic for the parade and hundreds of cops lined the barriers, holding back the throngs of spectators that had already arrived, so McKenna used the avenue as his best way downtown, speeding with his red light on and his siren screaming. Along the way he monitored the radio closely an
d heard progress reports coming over the new frequency. Teams all over Midtown were pulling over black late-model Lincolns, but McKenna wasn’t overly optimistic. Late-model black Lincolns were used by the many car services in Manhattan and next to yellow cabs, they were the most common cars cruising the streets of Midtown.

  McKenna reached 20th Street and Second Avenue in minutes, but that was as close as they could get. The street was blocked with traffic, so McKenna and Thor left the car double-parked and ran down the block toward the many emergency vehicles already at the scene. An empty blue-and-white radio car was lying on its side, blocking 20th Street just before First Avenue. The left front fender was missing, its roof was crushed in, and every window was shattered. To the right of it was a badly damaged parked car, its left side pushed in, and behind it was another empty blue-and-white with its doors open and its roof lights still flashing. There were dozens of cops and firemen surrounding the destroyed blue-and-white.

  McKenna surmised at once what had happened. Sector Eddie had seen or heard something at Gramercy Park and had chased the Lincoln with Mulrooney inside. They put the chase over the air and George had joined in. However, Mulrooney didn’t like being chased, so he opened his door and dropped one of his little bombs from his car. When Eddie passed over it, he pressed his Send button and that was the end of the pursuit. The force of the explosion pushed the car onto its side and it hit the parked car, crushing its roof. The Sector George cops jumped out of their car and pulled the Eddie cops from the wreckage through the shattered windshield. Those cops were either at the hospital or on their way there.

  Thor had reached the same conclusion as McKenna, but he was thinking clearer at the moment. “I think that maybe you should look for another bomb on this street,” he suggested calmly.

  He’s right, McKenna thought. Who’s to say that Mulrooney didn’t drop other bombs during the pursuit. If he did, they’re armed. McKenna was looking up and down 20th Street when his phone rang. “You better come over to Gramercy Park right away,” Sheeran told him.

  “Why? What’s happening there.”

  “Just get here. Pao wants to talk to you.”

  McKenna was momentarily panic-stricken and felt his stomach churn. “I’ll be right there.”

  “More trouble?” Thor asked.

  “Yeah, big trouble,” McKenna answered. “You’re gonna have to take charge here. C’mon.” McKenna ran to the destroyed radio car with Thor following. The highest-ranking cop there so far was a sergeant. McKenna grabbed him by the arm, startling him, and asked, “Sarge, do you know who I am?”

  “Sure I do. You’re McKenna.”

  “And this is Chief Thor Eríkson from Iceland. He knows more about what’s going on here than anybody else here now. Do whatever he tells you,” McKenna said. He turned and ran back up 20th Street toward Gramercy Park, three blocks away, leaving Thor and the confused sergeant standing there.

  As McKenna ran across Third Avenue, he saw many radio cars and ambulances on the street at the south entrance to the park, one block away. Then he heard a shot and pushed his pace to the limit.

  Sheeran was waiting for him at the gate, holding it open. He was trembling and looking grim. “Brian, I’m sorry,” he said, putting his arm around McKenna’s shoulder.

  McKenna felt panic set in and he shook off Sheeran’s arm. “What? Angelita?” he asked.

  “He’s got them, Brian. Angelita, and Janine, too.”

  McKenna felt dizzy and he grabbed onto the fence for support. For a second he imagined what Mulrooney would like to do to Angelita and his little girl, but the scene was too horrible for him to contemplate as pictures of Meaghan and Frieda flashed through his mind. He shook his head and focused on Sheeran.

  “Snap out of it, Brian. We need you and there’s not much time,” Sheeran said. “Follow me!” He turned and ran toward a line of uniformed cops, detectives, and ambulance crews gathered in the middle of the park, but McKenna stood by the gate, stunned. Then he saw the twins’ baby carriage at the edge of the line of cops and heard them bawling. A female cop was bent over the carriage, trying in vain to calm the boys down. McKenna found his legs and ran after Sheeran.

  On the other side of the cops was Pao, lying on the ground with his back propped up against a tree. Blood covered his legs and the front of his suit from his chest to his stomach, but he was conscious and still armed. He held his pistol in his hand, pointed at the cops and waving it to keep everyone back. There were many spent shell casings and an empty magazine on the ground next to him. Pao had reloaded.

  Lying facedown on the ground ten feet from Pao was the body of another man dressed in blue work clothes. There were two rakes lying next to him, one on each side, and he had been shot so many times in the head that his features were unrecognizable.

  On the other side of the park, behind the fence and across the street from the Gramercy Park Hotel, many reporters and photographers were snapping pictures of the scene in the park and another scene outside the park: A covered body was being loaded on a stretcher into an ambulance. A uniformed cop guarded the park gate to keep the press from getting in.

  McKenna looked down at the pitiful sight of his friend lying on the ground. “What are you doing, Johnny?” he asked.

  “Dying, but first I wanted to apologize and explain,” Pao said with labored breath, but his tone was conversational as he pointed his pistol at McKenna.

  “You’re not gonna shoot me, Johnny, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’m gonna shoot this prick again.” Pao turned his gun and quickly fired another round into the top of the dead man’s head. McKenna jumped, startled, but all the other cops there had become used to the spectacle.

  Pao returned his aim to McKenna, but he was smiling. “I do that every time they get too close. Sometimes just when I feel like it.”

  “Good for you. Nice shooting, Johnny.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Used to be Billy Ambery.”

  “Ambery? Good work, Johnny. Are you in pain?”

  “I’m having a hard time breathing, but no pain. I’m paralyzed.”

  “Johnny, we have to get you to a hospital. You’re bleeding to death right here.”

  “Good. Don’t want to live in no wheelchair, don’t think I’m gonna have to.”

  McKenna briefly considered just taking the gun from Pao and getting him to the hospital, but he decided to respect Pao’s wishes. “Go ahead, Johnny. Tell me what happened.”

  “Not my idea. Angelita’s. Boys were acting up. Mulrooney and his two punks were here. Sent them over to get her, he was hiding in the shed. Saw the two dopes, recognized this one right away,” Pao said, firing another round into the top of Ambery’s head. “He was too stiff, dropped them both. Didn’t see Mulrooney till too late, but I winged him, too.”

  “Where’s Crowley?”

  “Prick must’ve had a vest on, but he’s hurting, too. Got him in the arm. Bleeding bad.”

  “What was Angelita doing then?”

  “Told her to run, but she didn’t. Stayed with me. He said he’d shoot Janine if they didn’t go with him. Gave me a message, said to tell you he’s in charge now. Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for, Johnny. You did all you could,” McKenna said.

  “Not enough, but one more thing. May be important,” Pao said, but McKenna could see that he was slipping fast. Pao’s eyes were no longer focused on him and he dropped his hand holding the gun into his lap. McKenna ran to Pao and bent over him, and so did an ambulance crew with a stretcher. They started to lift Pao up, but McKenna stopped them. “What’s important, Johnny?” he asked, holding on to Pao.

  From somewhere, Pao found the strength to answer. “Parkie. Parkie uniform under his jacket.”

  McKenna knew at once what he meant. Parkie was what every kid who had grown up in New York called the Parks Department workers in their green uniforms, but McKenna didn’t have time to think about it. Pao had closed his eyes and
McKenna thought he was unconscious as the ambulance crew lifted him up and strapped him onto the stretcher. Then Pao opened his eyes again. “Brian?”

  “I’m here, Johnny.”

  “Worried,” Pao whispered, barely audible.

  “What are you worried about, Johnny?” McKenna asked, putting his ear to Pao’s lips.

  “Don’t see the light.”

  “What light, Johnny?”

  “The light in the tunnel. Nobody waiting for me.”

  “Don’t worry, Johnny. You’ll see it, and the Big Guy’s waiting for you,” McKenna said. Through his tears, he stared down at his friend, then kissed him on the forehead. Then he noticed that Pao wasn’t breathing, but he hoped that Pao had heard him before he had left to learn the big secret.

  The ambulance crew tried to revive Pao as McKenna silently cried, but it was no use. Johnny Pao had waited around to offer his apology and give McKenna his message, but now he was dead.

  Sheeran stood next to McKenna with his arm around him as the ambulance crew carried Pao’s body away, but only until the park gate closed on them. “Pull yourself together, Brian,” he ordered. “We’ll all cry for Johnny later.”

  The command was unnecessary. McKenna had already pulled himself together and was thinking furiously, clearer than he had ever thought before. Why would Mulrooney be wearing a parkie’s uniform? he wondered. Ambery’s not wearing a parkie uniform, so Mulrooney must know that this park isn’t serviced by the Parks Department. Something to do with picking up his kids in Central Park? Maybe, but maybe it has something to do with whatever else he’s planning for today.

  The twins were still crying, so McKenna turned to Sheeran. “Thanks, Inspector. I’m all right now. Just gonna attend to my boys, and then we’re back to work.”

  “Good, but please make it fast,” Sheeran said. Then he bent down, picked up Pao’s gun from the ground, and put it in his belt.