by Tonia Brown
She was right. Banjo wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to confess she was the reason he hung around. She was the reason Banjo took orders from an asshole like Maloney. All this time he had convinced himself it was the paycheck—because to be fair, Maloney did pay Banjo a filthy amount of money—yet in his heart it had always been Penny. He stuck around the foul mouthed monstrosity that was Toney Maloney because it allowed him access to Miss Penny Lane.
“I’ll triple it,” Waldorf said. “My uncle left me an awful lot of money. All of it’s yours if you just let us go.”
“Well then,” Penny said. “There you go. Like the kid said, that’s an awful lot of money, Ben. You’re always saying you work for the highest bidder. I think Maloney just got outbid.”
As if on cue, the man of the hour oozed into the room with all the finesse of a boil finally bursting. Maloney slammed the door behind him and tromped across the room to join Banjo.
“Why haven’t you started yet?” Maloney said.
“I was waiting for you,” Banjo said.
Maloney glanced between Banjo and Penny. “Yeah, I bet you were. Where’s the other two morons?”
“Chris and Marv have them locked up below deck, sir.”
“I was talking about Chris and Marv. Speaking of idiots and pigs, where is that wannabe cop? He was supposed to be watching the door.”
“He was, but I sent Officer Jones back to work.”
Maloney snorted. “And I told you I wanted him on the door. You’re just full of all kinds of ideas today, ain’tcha?”
“He needed to get back to his routine. Nothing draws suspicion like breaking routine. Unless you want the entire security detail up here wondering what the man is doing standing outside of your door for no apparent reason?” Banjo was dancing dangerously close to defiance again. And boy did it feel good. Still, he had to dial it back or he wouldn’t be able to do what came next. What he didn’t want to do with every fiber of his being. What he was going to do, regardless of the consequences.
Maloney drew close to Banjo, close enough for his horrid hot breath to wash over Banjo’s face. “You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? Well you can read all the fucking books you want, and get all the schooling your big fat head can hold, and when it’s all said and done, do you know what you still are? You’re hired meat, you fucking dipshit. Hired meat that needs to learn his fucking place and shut his fucking mouth. What do you have to say to that, hired meat?”
Banjo tossed a glance to Penny.
She shook her head at him. Don’t do it, Banjo. Don’t give in.
Banjo heard the words before he realized he had said them, his criminally hardwired brain answering for him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
The hurt in Penny’s eyes was far worse than anything Toney Maloney could’ve done to Benjamin Williams. And with it, Banjo knew he was making a mistake.
“Yes you are.” Maloney pushed Banjo aside and approached Waldorf. He bent double to sneer in the man’s face. “Where’s my fucking money?”
“I don’t know,” Waldorf said.
Maloney hauled off and struck Waldorf. “I said where is my fucking money, you cunt!”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop it!” Penny shouted.
Maloney turned his anger to Penny, striking her hard enough to bring forth a trickle of blood from her pouting lips. “You shut the fuck up and stay out of this. I’ll deal with you later.” He turned back to sneer at Banjo. “What? No knight in shining fucking armor shit this time?”
Banjo considered reprimanding the man, but things had gone too far to back out now. Miss Penny had made her choice and Banjo had made his.
This was his life. This was who he chose to be. This was the way of things.
“No, sir,” Banjo said. “I do what I’m paid to do.”
“Fucking right,” Maloney said as he wiped at the sweat breaking across his brow. “Did you throw that mutt overboard?”
“Yes.”
“Good then. There might be hope for you yet.”
Penny gave Banjo a brief, burning glare, then closed her eyes and went quiet. Maloney returned to the mortician, hitting Waldorf again and again. Banjo looked away, wincing at the sound of each strike. Why in the hell did it bother him so much to see this little pipsqueak get his ass handed to him?
Eventually, Maloney lost his breath and backed away from his victim.
Waldorf’s face blossomed with fresh bruises. The man was obviously scared out of his wits, trying his best not to let it show. An admirable way to face your own mortality, and another reason Banjo couldn’t hate Waldorf. Another reason to despise Maloney.
“Well?” Maloney asked, plopping down on the couch beside the captives. “What are you waiting for? Make that fucker tell me where my fucking money is. I’ve had a long day and I want to grab some sleep before we hit land tomorrow.”
Banjo considered the pair of captives, and their heavy offer.
Chapter Twenty Two
The Thrill of It All
Meanwhile, in a closet below deck
“We gotta do something, boss,” Larry said.
“I realize that, Lawrence,” Frank said.
“They’re gonna kill him.”
“I know.”
“We gotta do something.”
“Larry, for Pete’s sake, I know!” Frank turned away from the younger man and returned to pacing the small room. Pacing may have been a bad word for it. Taking one step back and forth was more like it. “What do you expect me to do about it? I’m locked in here with you.”
Frank didn’t know who he was more pissed off at; the idiot thugs that bullied him into this tiny closet at gunpoint, the moron mortician who blew the whole investigation with an ill-timed childish prank, or his lousy partner for suggesting such a bad idea.
Or maybe himself for listening to Larry in the first place.
“I’m sorry I got us into this,” Larry said.
Sighing, Frank leaned against the back wall shelf next to Larry. “Don’t be. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”
“I really thought he stood a chance.”
“So did I.”
“I screwed up, didn’t I?”
“We, Lawrence. We screwed up.”
“We. Right. Thanks, boss.”
Frank wiped his hand over his face. “Okay, then. Let’s think about this for a moment. Where are we on the ship?”
“I think we are where they keep the maid’s stuff.”
“Housekeeping. Right. I thought as much too. The towers of linen and vacuum cleaners in the hallway sort of gave that away. What do we have at hand?”
Larry glanced around the almost barren closet. “Not much. Looks like a supply closet of some kind, only they must’ve cleaned it out first. Either that or it’s not used much.” He poked at one of a half dozen boxes, pulling back one flap to look inside.
“What’s in there?”
“Paper towels and cleaning stuff.”
“Cleaning stuff, eh?”
“Yup.”
“Any scouring powder?”
“Any what?”
“Scouring powder. You know. Comes in a green shaker can? You use it to clean the tub when the wife gets pissed off about the ring she says you made?”
“I don’t clean the tub. Lucy does that for me.”
“Hell, man. If she cleans your tub for you, and you haven’t married her yet, then you owe her a cruise.”
Larry smirked. “Yes, sir.” He dug around in the boxes until he pulled out a familiar green can. “This it?”
“Yeah. Hand it to me. I have an idea.”
Frank grabbed the can of powder and drew Larry closer, taking a few moments to whisper his plan of attack. When Frank was done, Larry leaned away with a grimace.
“That won’t work,” he said.
“Sure it will,” Frank said.
“Yeah, but isn’t that like, I don’t know, an old movie trick or something?”
“Sure, and t
hink about those two goons out there. Do you think they’ve seen any old movies?”
“I reckon not. Okay then. Let’s do this.”
Frank set the can on the floor, then loosened his tie and shirt. He lowered himself, slowly, taking care not to lean too hard on his left hip. Sciatica was a bitch to live with, and doubly so if you took a bullet to the same hip and it never quite healed right. Frank finished prepping himself, then nodded to Larry that he was ready. Larry nodded in return, positioned himself beside the door and began beating on the wood.
“Help!” Larry cried. “We need help in here!”
One of the men beat on the other side of the door. “Shut up in there!”
Larry looked to Frank.
Frank rolled his fist forward, signaling Larry to keep it going.
Larry beat the door again. “I think my partner’s had a heart attack. We need a doctor. Now!”
There came a heavy sigh from the door, followed by a few mumbles.
“Is it the old guy?” one of the men asked.
Larry snickered. “Yeah. Yeah it’s the old guy. I think he might be dying.”
“Shit. The boss ain’t gonna like that.”
More mumbling.
“We’re gonna open the door,” one of the men said. “Back away from the door and keep your hands over your head, where we can see them. Do you hear me?”
“He’s smarter than he looks,” Larry whispered.
“Just go with it,” Frank whispered.
“Okay!” Larry shouted. He backed off from the door, stepping over Frank as he moved to the back of the closet. He raised his hands over his head and shouted, “I’m away from the door!”
The handle wiggled and one of the men pulled the closet door open. Frank leaned back against the shelves and closed his eyes.
“What’s wrong with him?” someone asked. Frank was fairly sure it was Marv, though between the two it was hard to tell.
“He’s got a bad heart,” Larry said. “We need to get him to a medic. Does the ship have a doc on board?”
“I don’t know.”
Someone leaned over Frank, breathing heavy in his face while they poked at him.
Frank lolled his head back and forth, and groaned.
“He looks bad,” Marv said. “Chris, the pig is right. We need to get him to a doc.”
“The boss said keep them here no matter what,” Chris said. “Keep them here until he gets back. That’s what he said.”
“Yeah, and if he comes back and Wallace is dead, we’re gonna be next. The boss has waited for years to put this fucker on ice.”
“Fine, I’ll go and get the doc. You, pretty boy, you keep your hands up and don’t fucking move till I get back.”
“Will do,” Larry said.
There came the sound of retreating footsteps away from the door and up a flight of stairs. Frank waited until they faded completely before he began to mumble.
“What’s he saying?” Larry asked.
“What?” Marv asked.
“He’s trying to say something.”
Frank put his fist to his mouth and coughed a few times, then mumbled more incoherent nonsense. He opened his eyes a crack.
“He’s dying,” Larry said. “Don’t let my partner die, man. Do something!”
“What?” Marv said. “What can I do?”
“See what he wants. Maybe he’s thirsty or something.”
Marv holstered his gun and grabbed Frank by the lapels of his jacket. “Do you want water? Is that it?”
Frank looked up to Marv and whispered, “Listen.”
Marv leaned in closer to make out the words.
Frank held his fist up again, to cough into it once more. Only this time he relaxed his hand and blew into the open cup of his palm, blowing scouring powder out of his loosened fist and into the eyes of his captor.
“Mother fucker!” Marv cried. He dropped Frank to the floor and scrambled to his feet. He stumbled out of the closet and pressed his hands to his eyes, scooping away the powder that was sure to burn like a son of a bitch. “You mother fucker! I’ll fucking kill you!” He went for his holster, only to find it empty.
Larry aimed the gun at Marv. “Get your hands in the air. Now!”
Marv squinted at Larry, probably half blind thanks to the chemicals. Even if he couldn’t see Larry with the gun, he connected the dots and raised his hands.
Frank managed to drag himself from the floor and join the pair in the room. “Get in the closet.”
“What are you going to do with me?” Marv asked in a pitiful voice.
It never ceased to amaze Frank how criminals went from badass mofos to whining babies in the blink of an eye. “We’re going to make sure you get what’s coming to you. Now get in the closet. We don’t have all day.”
Marv complied, feeling his way into the closet. Frank slammed the door on him, then used a chair to wedge the door shut.
“You gotta teach me everything you know when we’re done,” Larry said, watching Frank with glee.
“Son, if we get out of here,” Frank said, “I will teach you tricks that will get you fired for even thinking about using.”
“Nice!”
“Right. Nice. Let’s get out of here before that other one gets back.” Frank took off in a jog.
Larry fell in behind him. “Should we wait for him?”
“No time.”
“Won’t they just tell Maloney that we’ve gotten out?”
“Would you? My guess is they will search for us first, rather than admit they let us escape. Which means we have about a half hour or so before they go squealing to their boss.” When he came to the top of the stairs, Frank backed against the wall and scooted down the hallway to the end. He peered around the corner, then motioned for Larry to follow him. “Clear. Come on.”
They sprinted across the hallway to the service stairwell that led to each of the populated decks. Frank looked up at the five flights of stairs they needed to climb in order to reach first class at the top. His knees begged him to give it up. Frank pressed on, taking each flight with a steady pace.
“Where are we headed?” Larry asked.
“Maloney’s suite,” Frank said.
“You think he’s really stupid enough to kill the mortician there?”
“Not only is he stupid enough, he is lazy enough and pompous enough. Maloney hates to be inconvenienced more than he hates folks screwing with his money. He will want a front row private seat to that poor man’s execution. Which means he will want to be in his room, surrounded by his things.”
“You sound like you know him pretty good.”
“I do. Probably better than he knows himself. That thug was right about one thing. Maloney has waited a long time to kill me. I’ve waited just as long to put him behind bars. I’ve spent the last ten years chasing him around. Ten years I could’ve put into nice, calm deskwork. Ten years I could’ve spent with my wife and kids and grandkids. Ten years of my life wasted chasing a man I could never hope to catch.”
Larry grabbed Frank’s arm, stopping him midstep. Frank turned to look down at the younger man standing a stair step beneath him.
“You’re going to get him, boss,” Larry said.
“I hope so, Larry,” Frank said. “I really do.”
Larry gave Frank a reassuring pat on the elbow and they returned to their hurried climb. When they finally reached the top landing, Frank slowed his pace, taking a moment to catch a breath and plan their next move.
“Larry,” Frank said, “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything, boss,” Larry said.
“I need you to go to the captain and explain everything. Ask them to let you use their—”
“No way! I ain’t letting you go in there alone. You can’t order me to.”
“I’m not ordering you to do anything. I am asking you as a fellow agent, and as a friend. Go and get help. Use the ship’s radio to contact Tracy and get us some backup. Once we blow this wide we are going to n
eed all the help we can get. If you can find Jones, I want you to go ahead and arrest him on suspicion of aiding and abetting Maloney. I don’t need him busting in on this. After that, round up the rest of the ship’s security and meet me at Maloney’s room in a half hour. I should be ready by then.”
“You can’t go in there alone. I can’t let my partner do that.”
For the first time since he announced his plans to leave, Frank sort of regretted his upcoming retirement. He had worked alone for far too long, running off partner after partner with his obsessive need to catch the uncatchable Maloney. And now, in the sunset of his career, Frank finally got a young man with not only promise, but bravery as well. Larry was a rare breed, and Frank was proud to have spent his last days with the man.
“I have to.” Frank clapped Larry on the shoulder. “Go. Get help. I’ll try and stop that maniac from killing an innocent man.”
Larry handed the Glock to Frank. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Frank stood by their cabin door and watched Larry disappear down the stairs at the end of the walkway. Once he was sure the kid was gone, Frank tucked the small gun into the back of his pants just under his jacket, unlocked the cabin door and ducked inside. He raced to the closet, threw open the doors and ran his hands along the molding on the left hand side. Sure enough, his gun was still taped in place. He yanked on the works, pulling away paint and drywall and the metal box that held his weapon. Frank peeled away the duct tape, popped the lid on the box and pulled free the Colt .45 he had carried almost half of his life. He checked that the clip was full, replaced it, then said a quick prayer.
“Martha,” Frank said as he looked to the gun. “I know you said no more cowboy heroics, but I don’t think I have a choice this time. That man is going to die and it’s my job to put a stop to it. Take care of the girls and Keekee for me. I love you.”