He didn’t stop at the front desk to turn in his key. He kept it in his pocket and headed for the door. It would join his collection. Mike knew most hotels didn’t bother to change the locks when the keys went missing and he would be back to try the key in a few months. Who knows, maybe he would get some loot. As Mike passed the sleeping detective, the desk clerk caught sight of him and the bag he was carrying.
The kid called after him. “Excuse me, sir.”
Mike ignored him and kept walking. The desk clerk spoke up again. This time, he directed his words to the sleeping detective.
“Hey!” the kid shouted. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”
The detective woke up. He looked over at the desk clerk who pointed at Mike. Mike was already standing the doorway when the clerk shouted, but before the detective could unfold himself from his chair, Mike crossed the lobby and came at him. Three steps and a heavy overhand right to the face. The detective crumbled backward and went back to sleep. He would be staying that way for a while.
The clerk shouted. “Hey! I’m calling the cops.”
Mike ignored him and left. Benny waited at the curb in the back of a cab. Mike slid in next to him and the cab lurched into traffic before Mike could shut the door.
“Take us to the station.” Benny put his hand on the driver’s shoulder and squeezed. “Step on it.”
“Sure thing.” The driver was too enthusiastic.
Mike leaned against his side of the cab. Benny kept glancing over at him. Mike could tell his buddy was keeping a close eye on him. Mike wondered whether or not Benny would jump out of the car if Mike pulled his weapon on the driver. Mike felt the sudden urge to do just that.
He distracted himself by staring out the window, but the thought of pulling his gun on the cab driver kept popping up in his consciousness. Mike had to close his eyes and focus to keep it from happening. He turned his thoughts to Tino. He knew the Admiral would lose patience with them eventually. Mike would have to tie up that loose end and he would have to do it soon. He paused for a second to consider the stupidity of Tino calling himself the Admiral and he laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Benny put his hand on the door handle and gauged the speed they were traveling like he was timing a jump.
Mike smiled to reassure him. “I was just thinking of how Tino calls himself the Admiral. Ridiculous.” Mike sneered and lit a smoke. “Gets himself exiled to a half sunk barge and he starts calling himself an admiral.”
“It’s his name.” Benny leaned forward and plucked the fresh smoke from between Mike’s lips. “In Italian. Ammiraglio.” Benny said Tino’s last name in what sounded like impeccable Italian.
“What’s that?” Mike leaned forward hoping to get a clue about Benny from how well he spoke the language.
“You heard me.” Benny didn’t repeat himself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The cab pulled up to the station and Mike and Benny got out and retrieved their bags from the trunk, then split up and mixed into the mob outside the station. They took separate paths to the same destination. Benny slid through the middle of the crowd, fitting between people. Because he was small, no one noticed. Mike took a different tack. He stayed close to the wall and out of the way.
The station had almost come down in the last quake and they were building Union station nearby. Because of that, the city hadn’t done many repairs. They had only braced up the place with flimsy wooden supports. Mike used these scaffolds as cover and weaved around the edge of the room toward the platforms without being noticed.
Mike saw the problem when he had walked about ten yards into the station. Two trouble boys stood by the concourse that led down to the tracks. One was older and bigger. The other looked meaner. Both of them had eyes like spotlights roaming back and forth. Benny headed straight for them. They saw him and started forward, pushing passengers out of their way as they went. Mike slid his hand into his jacket and gripped the Red 9.
Benny didn’t flinch. He made a beeline for the two heavies until, at the last second, he turned and took an angle toward Mike. The trouble boys followed him. He led them right past Mike and Mike slid in behind them and glided up to within a couple of feet. A pair of cops near the ticket window caught Mike’s eye and he didn’t pull his weapon.
Benny saw the cops too and he picked up the pace as they approached the exit. As soon as they got outside, a Cadillac limousine pulled up to the curb and a big shot business man in a shiny suit tumbled out. He was followed by an entourage of yes men. They came toward the doors en masse and blocked Benny long enough for the two toughs to catch up to him and grab him. One took his bag; the other poked him in the ribs with a black snub-nosed convincer. Together they steered him down the sidewalk away from the station.
“Where’s the big fella?” Asked the older of the two.
“Who?” Benny sneered.
The young tough punched Benny in the stomach and the little guy doubled over. They grabbed him by the arms, straightened him up, and half-carried him across the street. A car pulled out of its parking spot and came toward them, driving up onto the curb and stopping next to them. The back door opened and the gunmen slipped Benny into the backseat. One got in back with him. The other hopped in front.
Mike had kept close, but not too close. Now he rushed the car with the Red 9 in his hand. The tough in the front seat saw him and started to draw his weapon, but he was too late. Mike had the drop on him and the gunman had to hand over his revolver. Mike took it, then forced his way into the backseat and clubbed the man in the passenger seat. The guy’s head slammed against the dash.
The tough in the backseat next to Benny reached into his coat, but there was nothing there. Benny had picked his pocket. The driver sat there with his hands on the wheel and stared forward. Benny shoved the unconscious tough off the back seat and onto the floor boards.
“Drive.” Mike commanded.
“If you’re gonna shoot me, you’re gonna shoot me here.” The driver shut off the engine. He was stone cold. Mike and Benny shared a look. They liked this guy.
“Tell your boss we’re sorry.” Benny talked in earnest.
The driver laughed at him. “Tell him what?”
“You tell him that we’re sorry. That we didn’t do it. Operators from Denver moved on us. Tell him that from where we’re standing, he seems to be losing a grip on his town.”
“We ain’t losing a grip on nothing.” The driver seemed offended. He was proud of his organization. “We knew those guys were here.”
“Then it’s his fault.” Mike smiled.
Benny ignored Mike and tried to reason with the driver. “Tell Tony we’re sorry, but we got another fighter. He can come in with us on him too. Tell your boss this fighter’s good. He’s even better than the Kid. We’re not interested in crossing Tony, we know you guys have a top notch operation out on the water.” Benny couldn’t say the last part straight. The words came out sarcastic.
“I’ll tell him.” The driver ignored the slight. He was smart enough not to get shot over the tone of a conversation.
The tough in the front seat stirred and Mike leaned forward to hit him again. Benny stopped his partner with a hand on his shoulder.
“We’ve got a train to catch.” Benny said.
Benny and Mike got out and the driver had gunned the engine. He merged into traffic with his back door still open. It didn’t slam shut until the car turned took the corner.
Mike and Benny crossed the street and went back into the station. They still had their bags. They had carried them throughout. Back in the station, they split up again. Benny took the same beeline for the concourse and Mike stayed by the walls, taking the long way around the edge of the room. This time nothing happened.
Out on the platform, they lingered together briefly then separated again and went to opposite ends of the platform and smoked. After a while, the train rumbled into the station and stopped with a lurch. The passengers oozed off bleary-eyed and hungry. Mike a
nd Benny waited until the crowd thinned out, then got on board.
They didn’t share a compartment. Benny boarded the first car. He handed a Porter his bag and climbed up. Mike waited a few seconds longer, then he got on the last car. A porter offered to help him with his bag, but Mike ignored him.
Once onboard Mike found a seat by himself in a row that faced forward. Mike had to see where he was going when he took the train. Looking backward at where he had been made his knees tremble and his head go light. It made him sick. Benny had gotten himself a better ticket than Mike’s. He had a private cabin and he settled into a seat that faced backward. Benny didn’t seem to have a care in the world. He was cool as ice and asleep before they left the station.
Mike didn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep with people around. He couldn’t even sleep in a shared bed with a dame. That was one reason he preferred to watch people through windows. Through glass, he could enjoy himself and get some sleep.
The train ride was uneventful. They made one stop south of downtown to load a little freight. It didn’t take long. Even with that delay, the train finished the journey to Riverside in no time. It wasn’t very far away.
Benny and Mike got off the train and met on the sidewalk in front of the station. The air felt like desert and the dust choked them. Riverside wasn’t much of a city. Mike couldn’t wait to get out of it. They headed away from the train and across town toward the central square. The hotel they were staying in was the fanciest for miles around. They were sparing no expense. The game was on.
Benny took it a step further when they got to the hotel. He walked in front and Mike stayed behind carrying the bags. Benny had cleaned himself up on the train and outfitted himself in shiny glass jewelry. He wore an Italian suit and tie combination that Lo had picked up in a robbery the year before. In fact most of the high end clothing Benny wore came from robberies. Benny and Lo were proud of the way they did their shopping.
As they approached the desk, the clerk looked up from the notes he was making in the guest book and stepped back toward the counter.
“Name?” He tumbled the words down at them.
Benny smiled and popped his suspenders. Mike kept his gaze down and his breathing heavy. He played punchy even when Dilworth wasn’t around. That would make the hook a little sweeter when it came time to make the switch.
“Young man, I am Mr. Lemon. I believe I have a suite.” Benny rapped his knuckles on the front desk for emphasis.
The clerk looked down at the book in front of him and nodded. “I see it here. Let me get you a Porter.”
“No need. My man will carry them.” Benny threw a look over his shoulder at Mike. Mike didn’t meet it. He stared at the ground, snorted, and stamped his foot.
“Excellent.” The desk clerk picked up a small silver bell and rang it.
A lobby boy appeared out of thin air with a key. He was young and the key looked almost as big as his hand.
“Follow me, sir.” He said as he headed for a steep broad staircase.
The boy glided along in front of them. Benny and Mike fell in line. Mike stared at the boy’s back. The kid’s uniform was threadbare and one hand was bandaged and he walked with a limp. Whatever this kid was up to, he was doing it the hard way.
At the top of the stairs, the boy turned right and led them along a balcony that overlooked the lobby. Mike looked down. He saw a figure drift past the door and linger. Mike turned to Benny. The little guy hadn’t seen it and Mike wasn’t going to tell him.
They came to another hall on the far side of the building and the lobby boy turned down that one too. He walked all the way to the last door and opened it in one smooth motion, then stepped back to allow Benny and Mike to go in before him.
The suite was more expansive than it was luxurious. Sheer drapes over large windows barely blunted the light. Overstuffed chairs and settees were scattered around the room, but none of them faced the big marble fireplace. The lobby boy went over and lit the fire. He blew on it until it got going. Benny and Mike stood by silently. When the boy was done, Benny handed him a couple of bits and walked him to the door.
“Let me know if you need anything.” The lobby boy said.
“Sure thing, kid.” Benny shut the door in his face.
“You couldn’t let him carry the bags?” Mike sneered as he dropped into the armchair closest to the fire and lit a cigarette.
“It was good for effect.” Benny came over and took the smoke from between Mike’s lips.
“Sure it was.” Mike took another one out of the pack and readied a match.
“You should go easy on those. You have to fight soon.” Benny picked up his bag and headed for the master suite.
“The fight’s fixed for crying out loud.” Mike lit the smoke.
Benny walked into the master suite and put his luggage on a lacquered wooden rack, then he used both hands to check the softness of the mattress. It was like a cloud. A wave of relief swept over Benny. He went back to the door to his room and locked it, then he lay down and went to sleep.
Mike stayed by the fire and smoked. It warmed him up and slowed his mind. He fell asleep caught up in the nicotine. Mike slept all the way to morning. He woke up early and stretched himself up out of the chair. When his head cleared, he ambled over to the master suite and put his ear to the door. He could hear Benny snoring.
Mike turned away and went to the washbasin where he woke himself with a cold splash of water. Then he opened his luggage, stripped naked, and dressed himself with athletic gear from his bag. By the time Mike left the room, he looked like a boxer.
Mike meandered through the hotel lobby, lingering a bit to make sure the house detective and some of the staff got a glimpse of his outfit. Then Mike walked out back onto a loading dock where there was an area clear enough for Mike to practice his footwork. Mike started shadow boxing. He played it up whenever someone from the hotel stepped out back. When the sun had risen to a gentleman’s height, Benny strolled out onto the loading dock to check on Mike
“You like it out here?” Benny cringed at the stench of the nearby trash cans.
“I wanna make sure they see me.” Mike huffed. He was working up a sweat.
Benny pinched his nose to block the smell. It made his voice sound funny. “That’s good. That’s good. But I’m gonna check on the venue now. You keep an eye out for Doc. He’s supposed to be here this morning.”
Benny disappeared back inside. Mike kept boxing despite the smell. He kept it up until the sun came over the top of the hotel and hit the trash straight-on. The smell intensified and Mike had to stop. Even he found it hard to breathe.
“That smell get to you son?” Doc Hansen stood in the alley below the loading dock and shouted up. When he got Mike’s attention, he lit a cigar and coughed his way through the first few puffs.
“Yeah once the sun hit it.” Mike stood there with arms akimbo. The sweat dripping off his square shoulders.
“You wanna smoke?” The Doc tossed Mike a cigar before he could answer.
Mike snatched it out of the air. “Light?”
The Doc stepped up onto the dock and struck a match for Mike’s cigar. Mike craned his neck out and took it.
The Doc eased a few steps back and gave Mike the once over. “I got the chickens. They’re in the truck. You want me to do them now?”
“No, the fight won’t be until tomorrow morning even if it goes right. We’ll want it fresh.” Mike answered.
“So you boys have a plan this time?” The Doc chuckled.
“It’s not our plan exactly.”
“Figures.” The Doc smiled. “Frisby brought him to you?”
Mike didn’t respond. The Doc rolled his shoulders when he didn’t get an answer. He hadn’t expected one. Still he kept talking. “You got the keys to the place for me?” The Doc tossed his cigar into a puddle and it squelched out quick.
Mike kept his cigar going. “Benny’s got’em. He’s over there now. If it looks good, he’ll hand it off to you tonight
. All you gotta do is take care of the chickens and use a whistle, you know how to use a whistle, right?”
“I think I can manage.” The Doc reached into his pocket and took out a cheap wooden whistle tied to the end of a thin leather cord. He showed it to Mike.
Mike nodded his approval, so the Doc put the whistle away and turned to go back inside. Mike didn’t let him get away that easily. He stepped over and put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. It fit in Mike’s hand like a baseball.
“Did Benny ask you to bring him anything?” Mike asked.
“He’s my patient.” Doc didn’t sound convincing. Not even he believed it.
“Patient or not, you keep that stuff away from him. We need him focused.”
“What makes you think I brought it?” The Doc smirked.
“How’re you spending your afternoon?” Mike pulled the Doc toward him and stared into his eyes. The Doc’s pupils were pin pricks. Mike shook him hard. “We need you with us.”
“I gotcha. I gotcha. I’ll make sure I’m off the nod by tonight.” The Doc sounded sincere.
Mike didn’t believe him. He knew the type. They were incorrigible. The Doc pulled himself from Mike’s grasp and retreated inside. Mike lingered on the loading dock until he bored of his cigar, then he tossed it aside and took off down the alley at a brisk jog.
When he rounded the corner, he passed the Doc’s truck. He could tell because of the chickens protesting loudly from crates piled haphazardly in back. Mike smirked, but paid them no mind. He kept up his run. He loped through the small town admiring the large oak trees that lined the narrow streets. His thoughts turned to the small town where he grew up and he picked up his pace. Anger made him run faster.
After a half hour, Mike ran out of gas and he doubled over with his hands on his knees and puked. He wasn’t in boxing shape and he had the old wound in his thigh giving him trouble. He was lucky he didn’t have to fight for real. He walked back to the room breathing deep with his hands on his hips.
Fixed Fight (Mike Chance series Book 2) Page 15