Drowned Hopes

by Allan Cole

  Sam let go and turned to Harry. "See how it is?" he said.

  Harry was stunned. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Sam immediately recovered his good mood. He rubbed his hands together. "I can’t imagine that you didn’t get my point," he said. "Smart man like you.’

  Harry could do no more than nod.

  Sam said, "Okay, then let’s get the show back on the road."

  He held up the check, pursed his lips and asked, "Where’s the rest of it?"

  Harry was way too battered by what had happened to deal with Sam sensibly. He said, numbly, "What are you talking about?" He indicated the piece of paper Sam held. "The check – that’s all of it."

  Sam laughed in his face. He knew when he had a guy cracked and ready.

  "Don’t try to con a con man," he said. "You can’t tell me that a smart man like you would put yourself at the mercy of the likes of a mean-ass fellow like myself without some kind of a fallback."

  Danny got what Sam was talking about. He poked Harry with his pistol. "Wanna get wet like old Ruthie?" he teased.

  Even with this ultimatum, Harry still hesitated.

  Ellen broke first. "For God’s sake, Harry," she said. "Give him the damned money. As much as I hate your guts, I don’t want to see you dead."

  Grimly, Harry fished another cashier’s check from his pocket and handed it over.

  Sam looked at it and his face lit up. "That’s a lot better, Harry buddy, old boy," he said. "You should listen to your sister more often."

  He reached into his pocket to get out the other check. "Got a pen?" he said, kidding, really in a good mood now.

  Harry glumly shook his head.

  Still going for his good mood, Sam said, "What about you, Ellen? Got a pen in that big damned bag of yours?"

  He strode over and scooped up Ellen’s beach bag. Ellen was practically coming out of her skin as he fished around.

  He noticed the umbrella. "Still expecting rain, Ellen?" he said.

  Ellen just shrugged, hoping to hell he didn’t look a little closer.

  Sam said, "Hey, here we go." And he pulled out a pen.

  Dropped the beach bag and went to Harry. Shoved the pen into the lawyer’s hand. Then he turned his back, leaning over to make a human writing surface. Harry just stood there, too scared not to comply, too humiliated to do what Sam wanted.

  Sam said, "Get to it, Harry. My time’s valuable too, you know?"

  Harry hissed something under his breath, then signed. Sam laughed and craned his head to look over at Ellen. "Remember how the four grand tickled?" he said.

  Ellen just stared at him.

  Sam shrugged. "Just thought you’d like to know that half a million tickles more," he said.

  When Harry was finished, Sam turned and plucked the checks from his fingers. He waved them at Danny. "Now, that’s what I call a good day’s work," he said. "Two hundred and fifty goddamned dollars for you. And two fifty for me. And Bob’s your fucking uncle."

  Danny frowned. "Who’s Bob," he said.

  Harry’s spirits were returning. And with them, his nerve. "Jesus, what a dope," he said of Danny.

  Sam sighed. "You just had to have the last word, didn’t you?"

  He stepped away to the corner and poured himself a drink. "Okay," he said. "Fine by me."

  Then he flexed his big muscles and strolled over to Harry, motioning for Danny to follow. "He thinks he’s Jesus Christ," he said to Danny. "Let’s see if he can walk on water, my friend."

  Danny giggled and joined Sam.

  Alarmed, Harry backed up, holding out his hands as if they could shield him.

  "Hey," he said. "I thought we had a deal."

  *****

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  SAM LOOKED OVER at Danny, big grin on his face.

  "You remember this guy’s action at Fist City?" he said.

  Danny laughed. "Sure the fuck do."

  Harry reacted to this, frightened. "You followed me to my gym?" he said.

  Sam ignored him. "He acted like he was fucking Mike Tyson," he said to Danny. "Think he can keep it up?"

  Danny moved toward him, raising his fists in a half-assed, street fighter way.

  Harry was surprised and backed off, although he automatically raised his hands. "Hey," he said. "We had a deal."

  Sam said, "Well, you know, my word’s as good as my bond, Harry. Of course, I’m a criminal and hardly bondable, but don’t let that influence you."

  Harry kept backpedaling. Holding out his hands as if they could shield him. Sam joined Danny, pushing the attorney back and back.

  Harry said, "Hold on. Maybe we can-" And he bumped into the rail.

  Sam said, "I guess I just cancelled whatever deal you had in mind."

  Desperate, Harry took a swing at Sam.

  Sam slipped the punch easily and knocked Harry down with a blow so hard it took all the strength out of him.

  Harry came up, grabbing at air, catching one of Sam’s arms – but only because Barr let him.

  Sam rocked him back and forth, thinking Harry’s death grip was funny. "Help me out here, Danny," he said. "This guy’s a heavy son of a bitch. All that damned muscle, you know?"

  Laughing at the joke, Danny holstered his gun, then grabbed Harry by the other arm. With Sam helping, he swiveled Harry’s big body around and got ready to run the attorney over the side.

  "He and Ruth can have some fun together, " Danny shouted as they raced toward the rail.

  But Ellen was up before them, brandishing her stun umbrella. "Please, Sam," she pleaded. "No."

  She raced over, fumbling for the trigger with nervous fingers. But before she could get a steady grip, Sam gave her a shove and she fell back on the deck.

  Mrs. Berman thought it was all a game. She clapped her hands and shouted, "Let’s all go swimming."

  Sam and Danny got Harry under the elbows and were about to give him the old heave, ho, when a voice cracked out: "Well, Well. What are you folks up to? No good, by the looks of things."

  Jolted, the men turned to see Sergeant Propp standing there in a classic shooter’s crouch, gun aimed straight at Sam. Just behind him, the Wellcraft bobbed up and down in the warm seas, tied by a light line to the Freebooter.

  Propp said, "Now, you boys stay just like you are. I don’t want to have to do anything hasty."

  Ellen, lying sprawled on the deck, the umbrella clutched in her hand, couldn’t believe her good fortune. "Thank God," she said.

  "Never thought you’d be glad to see the likes of me, huh?" Propp laughed.

  Ellen shook her head, grinning like a fool. But before she could say anything more, Propp came out of his crouch and advanced on Sam and Danny.

  "You really should have been nicer to me Ellen," Propp said. "Now I don’t give a shit what happens to you."

  He wagged the gun at Sam. "Give," he said.

  Sam shrugged and said, "Top pocket."

  Propp nodded and carefully reached out with his left hand and dug the checks out of Sam’s shirt pocket. He fumbled them apart with one hand and glanced at the figures. Then whistled in appreciation.

  "Five hundred grand," he said. "Damn. I thought that’s what I heard you guys talking about. But I figured it was too good to be true."

  He took a step back. "You can resume killing yourselves, boys," he said. He used his gun to indicate Harry, who was still being held up by Sam. "Over the side with that asshole first."

  Propp motioned at Ellen and Mrs. Berman. "The broads next." Then he gave a wide grin. "Maybe we’ll have a last drink together before I do you and your pal, there."

  But Sam wasn’t going that easily. He shouted, "Get him Danny."

  At the same time, Sam dropped Harry on the deck and lunged forward, Danny only a half step behind him, drawing his gun and screaming at the top of his lungs:

  "Fuck youuuu!"

  Propp got off a shot, but it was too hurried - Danny’s sudden scream had unnerved him. Sam powered into the cop, knocking
him flat on his back. Propp tried to get up, but Danny fired, the bullet slamming Propp back down.

  While this was going on, Harry saw his chance and charged into the melee, swinging his big fists as he bulled into Sam and Danny.

  Sam was momentarily stunned by Harry’s desperate charge, but Danny stepped to the side. He raised his gun to fire, but Propp managed to recover enough to get off a final shot.

  The bullet hit Danny in the chest and he toppled to the deck, dead.

  Propp tried to fire once more – aiming at Sam - but then all his strength left him and he fell back, shuddering his last breath.

  Even so, Harry had been given just enough time to regain his senses. He squared off against Sam, head hunched between muscular shoulders, fists high, coming at Sam with a boxer’s flat-footed shuffle.

  "Now we’ll see who’s boss, you stupid son of a bitch," he said.

  Sam looked him up and down and laughed. "Yeah, I guess we will," he said.

  He advanced on Harry, sneering, mocking him by keeping his hands down at his side. Harry swung, but Sam easily slipped the punch and slapped Harry across the face.

  Harry’s eyes widened as he realized that this wasn’t going to be as simple as he thought. He charged into Sam, delivering a flurry of blows, but Sam danced around him, playing with him.

  Then Sam stumbled over Propp’s corpse and Harry leaped forward to deliver a pile driver blow. Sam ducked his head, taking the punch on his skull.

  There was the sound of bones cracking. His fist broken, Harry shrieked.

  Sam laughed and slapped his face again. "So, now who’s boss, Mr. Lawyer man?" Sam said.

  Then he slammed a fist into Harry’s gut, doubling him over. He said, "Hey – quick lawyer joke. What’s the difference between a lawyer and a tick?"

  Harry moaned, trying to suck air into his tortured lungs.

  Sam said, "The tick falls off you when you’re dead." He laughed. "What’s the matter, Harry?" he said. "Don’t like lawyer jokes?"

  Another hammer blow drove Harry to his knees. "You know," Sam said, "I’ve always wondered if you really could kick shit out of a man," Sam said. "And I aim to find out before this day is through."

  He kicked Harry in the side, knocking him on his back to paw at the air helplessly. Sam kicked him again. And then again.

  "Oh, God," Harry wept. "God."

  "I like to see a man who knows when to pray," Sam said.

  Then he said, "Another lawyer joke: Two law partners go to lunch. In the middle of lunch, one of the lawyers suddenly jumps up. ‘Jesus,’ he says, ‘we forgot to lock the office safe.’ His partner shrugs. ‘What’s to worry about?’ he says. ‘We’re both here.’"

  More laughter. Then Sam leaned down to examine Harry, who was writing in pain. "Shit, man," he said. "You need to get yourself a sense of humor."

  And he kicked him again.

  *****

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ELLEN WAS HORRIFIED at the terrible beating her brother was taking. But she had sense enough to realize this might be her last chance to save her mother and herself.

  She snatched the umbrella up and grabbed Mrs. Berman by the elbow. "Come on, Ma," she whispered fiercely.

  Mrs. Berman pulled back, very upset. "Why is Harry hurting that man?" she asked.

  "Shh, Ma. Shh," Ellen said.

  She coaxed her mother from the chair and the two women fled along the deck to the bow, where Ellen found Propp’s boat tied up.

  Ellen guided her mother to the ladder. "Down there, Ma. And hurry," she said.

  Mrs. Berman obeyed, clambering over the side and going down the ladder.

  Meanwhile, Ellen grabbed the rope and slowly pulled Propp’s boat closer to the yacht.

  Mrs. Berman started to step onto the deck of the Wellcraft, then hesitated. She looked up at Ellen, eyes wide with worry. "We have to help Harry," she said.

  Two gunshots erupted from the stern of the yacht. Ellen jumped at the sound. Two more shots followed.

  She looked down at her mom. "Harry’s dead, Ma," she said as calmly as she could. "Some bad men killed him. Now we have to save ourselves… Okay?"

  Mrs. Berman gave a negative shake of her head. This was all too much for her.

  "Ma," Ellen cried. "Don’t give up now. Please, Ma?"

  Suddenly, Mrs. Berman’s face cleared. To Ellen it seemed like a light dawning.

  "I won’t, Ellen," she said, calling her daughter by her name for the first time.

  Despite their desperate situation, Ellen couldn’t help be rocked by her mother’s sudden recognition of her. Tears streamed down her face.

  "Go on, Ma," she said. "Hurry, please."

  Mrs. Berman dropped to the deck of the Wellcraft and scrambled out of the way. She looked back up at her daughter.

  "Come on, Ellen," she said. "It’s your turn now."

  Ellen started climbing over the rail so she could follow her mother down the ladder. But there was a sudden noise of a heavy feet and Ellen looked up to see Sam poised on the flying deck above her.

  "Weren’t you even going to say goodbye, Ellen?" he said. "After all I’ve done for you?"

  Then he jumped lightly down to Ellen’s deck. She held up the umbrella toward him off. "Don’t come any closer," Ellen warned him.

  Sam looked at the umbrella and laughed. "What are you going to do with that thing?" he said. "Play Mary Poppins on my sweet white ass?"

  He reached out a hand.

  Immediately Ellen jabbed him. A long blue arc of electricity streaked out and Sam howled as he was knocked to the deck by 80,000 volts.

  He sat up, gasping for breath. "Jesus," he said. "What was that?"

  Sam jumped back onto his feet and pulled his gun from his waistband. Jabbed the barrel at the umbrella.

  "You’ve been shopping for tricky stuff, haven’t you, Ellen?" he said. He raised the pistol. "Too bad you didn’t buy a gun instead."

  Before he could fire, Ellen lunged forward again. This time she zapped the gun. Sam wrenched back. The pain was hot and awful.

  "God damn," he shouted. And in his agony, he reflexively pulled the trigger.

  And bang! The sound of the gun going off turned Ellen’s ear drums into fiery bells. She flinched to the side, but the bullet had already gone by, plowing into fuel cans tied up against the bulkhead.

  Gasoline poured out and ran down the deck. The smell of it frightened Ellen and she backed off.

  Sam made a grab for her, but Ellen was quicker, letting him have it with her weapon. This time the jolt knocked the gun out of his hand.

  She advanced on her enemy, the umbrella at the ready.

  Sam backed up a few steps, splashing through the running gasoline. "Screw this," he said. "I’m getting the other gun."

  He whirled and ran down the alleyway.

  Ellen bolted for the railing. She started to clamber over, but before she could escape, Sam came racing back.

  He spotted her and raised the gun to fire. "Nice knowing you, Ellen," he said.

  But Ellen was quicker and she desperately stabbed the umbrella into a pool of gasoline on the deck.

  A long blue arc leaped from the tip and the fuel exploded in Sam’s face.

  He screamed and fired wildly in every direction as he spun around and around. His whole body engulfed in flames.

  Ellen turned and dived into the water. She surfaced, then struck out for Propp’s boat. She grabbed the ladder and climbed up on deck. She rushed past her mother to the captain’s chair. She grabbed the wheel and searched around for the starter.

  "Do you know how to drive one of these things, Ellen?" Mrs. Berman asked.

  "No, Ma," Ellen said.

  Then she saw the key in the ignition and gave it a twist. The engine roared into life. She pulled on the throttle and instantly the boat lurched backward, slamming into the yacht.

  "Damn," Ellen said.

  She pushed the throttle forward.

  The engine stalled.

  Frantic, she hit th
e ignition switch.

  Nothing.

  Another attempt and this time the engine roared into life.

  But suddenly a burning figure leaped from the yacht and dove into the water.

  It was Sam.

  He surfaced, eyes crazy in his blackened face. Sam lunged forward, grabbing one of the lines trailing behind the boat.

  He wrapped a length around his wrist then pulled himself toward the Wellcraft, hand over hand.

  "Ellen," he said in a ghastly croak.

  Ellen throttled forward and the boat surged away. But Sam clung to the line.

  On the deck, the line was unraveling from a coil. Attached to the end of a coil was an anchor.

  Sam’s weight pulled the anchor across the deck and it started to go over the side.

  Then it jammed against the rail and Sam began to use his incredible strength to pull himself closer and closer to the Wellcraft.

  Ellen rushed to the anchor and struggled to free it. "Help me, Ma," she shouted.

  Mrs. Berman ran to her daughter’s side.

  The two women fought with the anchor – Sam getting closer all the time.

  Then it jerked free and splashed into the water.

  Sam suddenly found himself treading water – and Ellen’s boat was speeding away.

  Then the anchor’s weight started to pull him under.

  He gulped water and fought like hell to stay afloat and untangle the line from his wrist.

  His head went under – once, twice, three times.

  Ellen looked back and saw him disappear from sight, never to rise again.

  At that moment the Freebooter exploded into flames.

  And suddenly Ellen found herself back at the wheel, guiding the Wellcraft through a hailstorm of fiery debris.

  Then it was over and Ellen sagged in relief as she realized they were finally safe.

  Her mother hugged her. "I’m so glad to see you, Ellen," she said.

  "Me too, Ma," Ellen said, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Mrs. Berman glanced at her watch. "If we hurry we can catch Perry Mason," she said.

  "I’m hurrying as fast as I can, Ma," Ellen said.