by Jack Murray
Lehane was now pawing the ground. He grabbed Mary around the waist. Mary had anticipated this.
‘Is that a Picasso?’
Lehane looked to his side, ‘Yes, honey. It’s yours if you want.’ His voice was somewhere between a growl and begging.
At this point the phone rang. He wanted to disregard it. This was too important. Then he realised his excitement had reached such an acute stage that the show might be over before it had begun.
He picked up the phone reluctantly.
‘Yes,’ he said, virtually panting with desire, ‘who is it?’
‘Mr Lehane, it’s Frank Nelson.’
33
The man walking past Agatha in the car eyed her closely but continued on, uninterested. He was looking forward to a night with female company distinctly younger than the one he’d just seen. Still it was an unusual sight, such an old woman at a place like this. He hurried towards the entrance. The doormen knew him and waved him through.
‘What’s with the broad in the car?’ he asked on his way past.
‘What broad?’ asked one of the doormen.
The man gestured with his thumb and told them.
The two doormen shrugged at one another. The one of them said he would take a look. He felt like stretching his legs anyway. He walked in the direction the man had said. A number of cars were parked by the road. He spotted one with a lady in the passenger seat. He walked towards it.
Agatha had seen all from her position in the car. This was, indeed, a problem they hadn’t considered. Thinking quickly, she stuck her head out of the window and shouted to the approaching man.
‘What do you fancy, darling? Half price for you.’
The man took one look at Agatha, ‘Forget it, lady.’ He waved her away and turned on his heel and walked back to the nightclub.
His fellow doorman asked him what he’d seen. The man shook his head and said, ‘Some crazy old broad. Seems harmless.’
Agatha put her head back inside the car, quite pleased by the outcome and not in the least bit put out by the apparent rejection.
-
Hammett looked at Mulroney. They had been by the door for a minute. Then Mulroney nodded. Hammett stepped out of the way in case of any ricochet. Mulroney aimed his weapon at the door handle and fired. The door sprang open, and they raced inside. They were now in a corridor. Up ahead they could hear the orchestra playing. They raced towards the sound of the music.
No one had heard the initial shot to open the door. They certainly heard the next two. Mulroney and Hammett each fired their guns in the air. The result was as anticipated.
Pandemonium.
Customers rose from their seats and raced towards the exit. They were joined by many of the women and bar staff. Mulroney and Hammett loosed off another shot or two before joining the throng heading for the exit. No one was any the wiser as to who had started the stampede.
Meanwhile the doormen were trying to push, without success against the rush of people coming towards the entrance. The screams and the yells drowned out their attempts to restore calm.
-
Kit was heading towards the stage when the gunfire began. All at once people were flooding from the stage, and behind him from the seats. He ignored the noise and the mayhem, heading straight for the corridor mentioned by Mary.
Behind him Alastair followed, fascinated by the impact of Hammett and Mulroney. He saw Kit duck behind the stage. He stopped and waited, observing the uproar with something approaching pleasure. The orchestra he noted, unlike on the Titanic, had abandoned ship and were streaming out the rear exit. Alastair guessed this was the entrance used by Hammett and Mulroney. A few of Lehane’s gunmen were heading that way also, clearly believing they were in the midst of a police raid. Alastair wasn’t sure if this was to escape or to tackle the invaders directly. Seeing one of them trip up a customer by accident caused him to have a fit of giggles. He reached over to a table and picked up a cocktail which had clearly just arrived on the table. He tried a sip. Not bad. A bit strong but nonetheless it helped add to the theatre of the moment.
Behind the stage all was quiet. The corridor was empty, Kit made straight for the door at the end. Moments later he was picking his way down the stairs and finally through a door, into another corridor. A man sat at the end of the corridor. He stood up. Mary’s description of him had done him no injustice, he was certainly a giant. Kit looked at him and the giant looked back.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ said Harry. He started to walk towards Kit menacingly.
Kit put his hand in his pocket and felt the hard metal of his gun.
-
Lehane gripped the phone tightly.
‘Goodman’s talked,’ said Nelson to Lehane.
At the moment he heard gun shot. Then a second. ‘What the?’ uttered Lehane, momentarily distracted. ‘Take this find out what he wants,’ snarled Lehane handing the phone to Mary.
Mary took hold of the phone. She heard a voice saying ‘Mr Lehane? Mr Lehane?’
‘He said to tell me.’
Mary listened as Nelson revealed the plan to raid Lehane’s to find Dain Collins using the new singer as a plant. Mary nodded her head. Then she said, ‘Thank you Mr...?’
‘Nelson. Frank Nelson,’ replied the soon-to-be former copper.
Lehane was at the door. He opened it and the muffled sound of previously became all too clear. There was a stampede to get out of his club. He heard another few shots. Lehane turned back towards Mary, caught between desire and the need to do something, anything to stop people leaving.
‘What did he want?’
Mary smiled up at Lehane saying, ‘No news yet.’
The noise of screams grew louder.
‘Honey, I have to go deal with this.’ Regret was sculpted into every syllable spoken by Lehane
Mary put on a glum face. Then a thought struck her. She twisted the knife further.
‘What were you saying about spanking?’
The pandemonium outside his office was as nothing compared to the chaos inside Lehane’s mind at that moment. Hearing the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen utter his now favourite word in a crystal clear English accent stopped him in his tracks. A scream outside woke him up to reality. In fact, he almost howled in agony himself as he turned and went through the door.
Once he was gone, Mary picked up the phone and dialled a number.
‘Hello, I need the police. There‘s been gunfire at Lehane’s nightclub. Yes, that’s right Lehane’s. Thank you.’
She calmly put the phone down then walked over to a coat rack near the door, selected a coat and slipped it over her shoulders and walked outside to join the wave of people trying to exit the club. Somewhere in the distance she heard an explosion.
Noise levels reached a crescendo. Mary smiled at the panic-stricken faces of the old men now exiting the club. There was no chivalry. It was every man for himself. Mary found herself buffeted and her feet trod on. She lost her shoes and was almost lifted off the ground by the mass of people trying to escape.
-
Algy and Foley parked the car on the other side of the wood which separated Lehane’s from a road running parallel. They heard the gunfire as they got out of the car.
‘Better hurry,’ said Algy.
The two men ran through the wood, hurdling logs and dodging around stumps, bushes and trees. The smaller man soon outpaced the bigger man. He reached the clearing first and fished out something from his pocket. Algy looked at it in surprise.
Lehane’s was a riot of screaming. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the building. On this side, the two men could see a handful of customers and what looked like the orchestra composed entirely of Hispanic musicians. A few of Lehane’s men also milled around in utter confusion. Unsurprisingly, they looked unhappy. They were just about to become unhappier.
‘Where did you get that anyway?’ asked Algy, staring down. The diminutive detective was holding stick of dynamite.
; Foley looked at Algy but didn’t answer. Algy had very quickly understood that the Pinkerton man was not the most communicative. Foley lit the fuse with his cigarette and waited a moment. Then he threw the stick away from where the crowd were located.
The explosion convinced the crowd that they might be safer at the front. En masse they ran in the same direction, away from the explosion, and towards the front of the nightclub.
‘I guess we wait now,’ said Algy.
-
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ repeated the giant, looming over Kit. He noted that the well-dressed man before him, seemed disconcertingly unafraid. Harry rather disliked violence and was normally reluctant to use it. His size tended to mitigate the need for deploying what God had so liberally bestowed upon him.
Kit looked at the big man.
‘It’s Harry isn’t it?’
This stopped Harry in his tracks. He was definitely Harry, no question. He nodded.
‘Harry, I’m here to take the young girl.’
‘Boss says she stays here.’
‘You like her, don’t you?’
This seemed a strange question to Harry. How did this man know? It was true. He did like her. Kit took a chance. He said, ‘She’s always been nice to you, hasn’t she?’
The sound of the mayhem upstairs was permeating through to the basement. Harry looked up then he turned back to Kit.
‘Yes, she’s sweet.’
‘She’s not well, Harry. The boss is giving her drugs. They’re making her sick.’
Harry felt his stomach tighten. This couldn’t be true, yet every day she seemed to be worse. Mr Lehane would never do that. He said so.
‘Then why is she so ill?’ Kit didn’t know if this was true, but it was worth a gamble if what Hammett said was true.
‘I don’t know,’ replied the giant.
‘Will you help me please, Harry? Will you help me help her?’
Harry couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said “please” to him. The mayhem outside continued but the only sound either man made now was the sound of their breathing. Then Harry made up his mind.
-
Lehane eventually squeezed through the throng coming the other direction. He found one of his men, standing powerless, watching people go past him. He looked at his boss, dumbfounded. Lehane swore. When this was over, he would adopt a more rigorous recruitment policy for thugs. These people were imbeciles.
‘Do something,’ screamed Lehane in exasperation. Although even Lehane recognised there was little that could be done. He looked around wildly. What had started the stampede? He needed to find out. Grabbing the man by the arm he said, ‘Come with me.’
Lehane and the other man raced into the club’s main room. It was now empty save for an elderly man standing by the stage drinking a cocktail.
‘Hey, you,’ shouted Lehane, ‘What the hell are you doing?’
Alastair glanced down at his cocktail and then back up at Lehane. He smiled and said, ‘I should have thought that obvious.’
Both the answer and the accent were not what Lehane was expecting. There was something in the mocking tone of voice as well. Lehane and his man marched forward towards Alastair. Lehane didn’t know why, but he felt in his bones, this man knew a lot about tonight’s mayhem.
And then the reason for his insouciance became all too clear.
-
Hammett saw Lehane leave the office first. He was stuck in the middle of the throng leaving the club. Bodies surged forward towards the exit. The noise of shouting was deafening. Hammett didn’t have time to enjoy his handiwork, though. He had to get to Lehane. He shouted to Mulroney.
‘Lehane’s going back.’ Hammett pointed wildly in the direction of the club. Mulroney’s heart sank. Then he nodded. Both men turned and tried to go against the torrent rushing the other way.
Inevitably this was greeted with more than dismay, and the two men had to fend off a few punches aimed their direction. I need to lose weight, thought Mulroney more than once as he struggled against the wall of bodies. He was sure he’d just rammed a state Senator a moment ago.
Finally, they broke though.
‘We can’t let Lehane get to Aston.’
They both ran in the direction of the dancehall. Progress was unimpeded as, by now, the majority of the customers were either in the main foyer of the club or outside.
-
Harry opened the door. The room was dimly lit. Lying on the bed was the crumpled figure of Dain Collins. Neither awake nor asleep. Kit gasped at the damage wrought by the drugs.
‘My God, what have they done to her?’ She seemed a shrunken, ghostly old woman compared to the photographs he’d seen.
Harry looked at her. He was shocked by the change in her appearance. The girl he had known was so full of life and had always been kind to him. This seemed like a different person. Now he understood why he had been told never to enter, never to let anyone else enter unless Lehane said-so.
‘Can you lift her?’ asked Kit. The giant picked her up like she was a tray of drinks, carefully but without any sense of her weight. She looked up at him and smiled. A flicker of recognition maybe. Her eyes tried to focus on Kit. She gave up and looked back at Harry.
Then Kit asked, ‘Is there a way out at the back?’
Harry nodded.
Kit opened the door. The corridor was still clear. The muffled sounds of the uproar continued. They hadn’t much time. Kit led the way up the stairs and into the corridor just off-stage. He turned to Harry and said, ‘Which way now?’
Harry’s head nodded in a certain direction, ‘Follow me.’
The big man moved quickly along the corridor, so much so, Kit found keeping up difficult. Soon they were onto the main stage. Kit looked down. All at once he felt a numbness set in. It had been too good to be true. The club was empty save for Alastair, standing in front of two men. Alastair had his hands up. To his credit, one of his hands was clutching a cocktail, Kit noted. One of the two men was holding a gun. Alastair and the other two men turned to look towards the stage.
Lehane recovered from his shock and shouted to Kit and Harry, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Alastair chuckled, ‘My, my, sir, you’re not the brightest, are you? I should have thought that obvious also.’
Both Lehane and his man looked at the Englishman in shock. Lehane was not used to being spoken to in such a high-handed manner. The situation, already out of control, was spiralling in a direction that bordered on lunacy. For a moment, Lehane actually wondered if the past five minutes were a dream turned nightmare.
If Lehane was in shock, so was his man, Bernie. He’d worked with Lehane for years. No one had ever spoken to the boss in such a manner. Given the stupefied shock of his boss, Bernie felt it was time he stepped up, or at least forward.
‘You can’t talk to the boss like that,’ exclaimed Bernie.
‘Why not? The man’s obviously a cretin,’ pointed out Alastair amiably.
Kit and Harry had stopped for a moment, able to hear the exchange clearly. From their viewpoint, it was clear what Alastair was up to. While it was entirely possible the glass of cheerfulness Alastair was holding up had contributed to this uncharacteristic valour, the supercilious sarcasm was all his. They watched fascinated. Lehane was on the point of blowing a fuse when he heard a voice from behind.
‘Eddie, can I ask you and your man to put your hands up?’
To emphasise the point, Mulroney stepped forward and placed his gun against the base of Lehane’s head. He added, ‘Now.’
Hammett shouted up to Kit, ‘You better get outta here. Go to the fire exit at the back. Sounds like the boys have started their show.’
Kit nodded and turned to Harry, ‘Shall we?’
Harry didn’t move. His eyes were on Lehane. It was true he wasn’t the smartest kid on the block. Never had been. But even Harry could recognise the cold hatred in Lehane’s eyes.
‘If you know what’s good for you, Sch
ulz, you’ll stay right where you are. Don’t be a lug all your life. Put the girl down. We’ll take care of her.’
Harry looked down at Dain Collins. Her eyes were open, but she seemed dead. The rage inside him wiped out the doubt, and the fear.
‘You shouldn’t have done this to her, boss. When this is finished, I’m gonna come find you.’ He started to walk forward, slowly at first, his eyes never leaving Lehane’s, their fiery intensity matching his. Lehane knew he meant it.
Soon he was hurrying towards the exit. He could barely feel the hundred pounds of Dain Collins in his arms. Kit followed him through the back corridor that led to freedom. The five men in front of the stage watched them disappear.
‘What now, Mulroney?’ asked Lehane. ‘At some point my men are going to come. Do you plan to shoot it out with them?
Hammett and Mulroney were acutely aware of this. They glanced at one another. There was no fear in their eyes, but they knew this was not a situation that could last indefinitely.
Alastair had, by this stage, picked up Bernie’s dropped gun. He said, ‘I have an idea.’ He emptied the gun’s chambers and handed it back to Bernie. ‘There you go my man, he said. ‘Now point it at Mr Hammett and Mr Mulroney.’ Bernie looked at Lehane in confusion. Alastair, meanwhile, took Hammett’s gun and pointed it at Bernie.
‘Now if you, please,’ said Alastair. ‘Right. Can we all walk towards the exit. One word from you Lehane and I will have no hesitation in using this. I don’t like you. I don’t like what you’re doing here. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you and people like you don’t do this again.’
They started walking towards the main entrance.
34
The cold air felt like a balm after the smoky, sweaty sourness of the nightclub. Mary inhaled deeply as she was pushed forward by the pressure of the people behind her. She spied Agatha further ahead and skipped over towards the car.
‘Any problems?’ asked Agatha.
Mary wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up the topic of discussion that had Mr Lehane so excited. If Mary’s suspicions about its appeal were true, it might be better discussed with Kit.