The Fighting O'Keegans

by Aaron Kennedy

  ‘You’re wondering why I ain’t killed you yet? Seems that will wait for later, right now, Mr. Meehan would like a few words with you O’Keegan’

  ‘Well that’s good. He and I have an appointment to talk in….’ he raised his arm to look at his watch his ears hearing nothing but the click as the gun was cocked in case this was a prelude to some attempt to fight back. He waited a moment then continued,

  ‘…just under fifteen minutes. Meehan didn’t need to send you to make sure I was going to be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.’

  ‘That’s just the point O’Keegan, Mr. Meehan would rather talk to you in private. You won’t be making your appointment in fifteen minute. A shame because I would have liked to see him kick you back where you came from, sorry to say but everyone will think you were yellow and didn’t want to fight a better man like Mr. Meehan.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s how it is. Meehan didn’t have the balls to fight me so he sent one of his goons to keep me from the fight. You want to work for a man like that?’

  Meehan’s man quickly raised the gun and sliced it down horizontally across O’Keegan’s face, knocking him back against the meat counter. O’Keegan looked slightly groggy as he worked to steady himself after the quick and unexpected blow. While he played the part, his hands moved behind his back, searching along the meat counter, hoping that his body would shield the fact that he was searching along the wooden counter for anything that could be used.

  ‘Who the fuck are you anyway O’Keegan? You think you can just stroll of the boat one week and next week you can push someone like Mr. Meehan off his perch? It’s taken him years of dealing with people like you everyday to get what he’s got. Anyway, I’m not paid to talk so…’ He raised the gun again after the quick swipe he had given O’Keegan, as he did O’Keegan was already moving his head to the left side, the gun pointing briefly over his shoulder while bringing up a discovered carving knife towards the man’s gun hand.

  The gun sputtered once as the knife connected with his wrist, knocking his aim slightly off course back towards O’Keegan. The silenced bullet embedded itself in the top of O’Keegan’s shoulder as the Priest’s murderer yelled out in pain, his wrist already pouring from the inch deep knife gash cutting in at the wrist.

  O’Keegan spun around from the force of the bullet, his back now towards the assassin his stomach and hands pressed against the work surface, eyes closed in pain. With a wash of crimson pain pushing hard against his consciousness, Meehan’s man fought against his own weakness, raising up his other hand to grasp the blood soaked gun between two shaking hands.

  Taking a tottering step forward towards O’Keegan’s back he took his time to level it in line with the back of O’Keegan’s head. Cocking the trigger again he made ready to fire, no longer thinking of Meehan’s strict instructions, wanting more than anything to see O’Keegan off with one more bullet to the brain.

  ‘Mr. Meehan had some plans for you tonight. You wouldn’t have like them so perhaps it’s good for you that I’m going to finish this now. He won’t be happy with me but what the hell, I’ll just tell him you fought back. Hell, I have the cut you gave me to prove it…’

  The shot sounded out around the small shop and the body catapulted to its side, collapsing in a pile of good cloth, blood and brains. The slightly acid smell of discharged gunpowder quickly overwhelming the noisy reverberations of the shot itself. One more dead hood.

  O’Keegan slowly turned and looked down at the hit man’s body, taking in the scene of Flannery standing there, smoking shotgun in hand.

  ‘Thought you might need some help O’Keegan.’

  ‘I told you once already Flannery, I’ll be there OK. You don’t have to look out for me…I had it all under control, had him just where I wanted him, no problems.’

  They both grinned at each other.

  ‘Yeah…I could see that, you were just waiting to spring…I could tell.’

  Flannery gave the body a slight kick. ‘What was this all about?’

  ‘Guess Meehan was just trying to save himself a few cuts and bruises’.

  Flannery looked down at O’Keegan’s shoulder and noticed the soot smudged hole and creeping red that was edging its way through O’Keegan’s clothes.

  ‘You’ve been shot. How bad is it?’

  ‘Well it didn’t kill me so it ain’t so bad.’

  ‘Are you still OK to fight Meehan?’

  ‘We’ll see won’t we, let’s get back. Make sure you send a few boys back to clear up the mess and make sure the Priest is looked after properly. They’ll find him in the meat locker.’

  ‘Shit, he shot the Priest?’

  ‘Yeah, we owe Meehan for that too and tonight we’ll pay it all back. Let’s get back to the fight. Lend me you jacket will you Flannery. I don’t want Meehan knowing that I’ve been hurt’.

  ‘Sure O’Keegan, just try not to bleed to much on it will you, I like this jacket’. He shrugged it off, handing it over as they began to leave the shop, on their way back to see Meehan.

  ++

  As soon as Meehan and his boys had walked back into the warehouse, O’Toole left his hiding place, walking across to Shorty who was still lying curled up against the street wall, the smell of urine pungent. Kneeling down, O’Toole gently slapped Shorty’s face, waiting for a response that didn’t come, he cupped handfuls of water from a nearby puddle, doing his best to throw as much of the icy cold water as he could into his friend’s face. A few minutes passed, then Shorty began to resurface,

  ‘Wa?, wa?, shit. That hurt.’ Shorty did his best to sit up, struggling for a second or two on elbows before shaking his head a few times, working to clear the grogginess.

  ‘Where’d he go? Damn, he doesn’t like me much does he?’ Shorty smiled, running his fingers a few times through his damp hair after the handfuls of water.

  ‘Could have been worse Shorty. Meehan isn’t known for his patience, he could have just seen you off with a bullet to the head.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right but I’m not sure being pissed on could be considered that lucky. Wouldn’t call that luck would you? Anyway, guess that was Meehan playing nice and I should be thankful. Hate to see what he’d do if he was really pissed off. Not trying to be funny. Not sure I could cope with being crapped on…’ They both laughed, relieved that although his pride was hurt, Shorty was still in one relatively decent if not urine encrusted piece. O’Toole give him an arm, Shorty stood, acting the old man as he straightened his back, wincing at the effort to stand.

  ‘Talking of that, did you do your business? Is it all set?’

  ‘Yeah Shorty, Yeah. Thanks to you giving me the extra minutes I needed. That fucker had near unpickable locks on his precious car. We should have known that I guess. If they had just been normal locks then you and I would be sitting in a bar somewhere by now’

  ‘Not really, we’ve still got a few more things to do before we’re done for the evening.’

  ‘Yeah I know. Just wishful thinking.’

  ‘Has O’Keegan come back yet, he should be here by now?’

  ‘Not that I saw and I’ve been watching the street since Meehan used you as his own private lavatory.’ He smirked at Shorty.

  ‘Alright O’Toole. Why don’t you and I keep that little piece of information to ourselves? Last thing I need is for the rest of the boys to give me a hard time about that one.’

  ‘Don’t worry Shorty, don’t get pissed off…I’ll keep it to myself.’ Another smirk, O’Toole was enjoying himself Shorty could tell.

  A hand reached out and placed itself firmly on Shorty’s shoulder from the rear. Shorty responded instantly, thinking Meehan was coming back for seconds, stepping forward he then turned, trying to swing his fist around to whoever it was that was pulling on him. A large palm intercepted his fist, catching it in mid-flight and from the other side, Shorty looked into O’Keegan’s grinning face as O’Keegan lowered Shorty’s fist to his side.

  ‘You smell like someone pissed on
you. Couldn’t you have waited?’

  ‘Very funny O’Keegan. We had a little run in with Meehan.’

  ‘You okay? Don’t tell me you pissed yourself, I told you he was nothing to worry about’. O’Keegan smiled, already sure that Shorty was pretty much fine but wanting to pull his nose a little just for fun.

  ‘Is everything ready?’

  ‘Pretty much. Where’s the Priest?’ He looked around scanning behind O’Keegan and Flannery and looked briefly up the street in case Tony was lagging behind.

  ‘The Priest won’t be here. He had a run in with one of Meehan’s boys too but he wasn’t as lucky as you were.’

  Shorty and O’Toole didn’t say anything, not sure what there was to say. They all stood there for a minute thinking about the first casualty of their war against Meehan. The Priest was a good man, one of them, one of the best. O’Keegan had known that there would be consequences to all of this but somehow had never figured the Priest would be the first to pay the price. For a few more moments they all looked at each other, trying to find the words that would make sense from it all. None came. As Shorty looked at O’Keegan, he noticed the red dots that had begun to accumulate along O’Keegan’s wrist.

  ‘What about you, you hurt O’Keegan?’ O’Keegan looked down at the blood drips.

  ‘Nothing much that won’t wait. Anyway, I’ll think about it later. Meehan and I have a few things to say to each other before I can worry about that. Flannery and I need to get inside before the crowd start to get too restless. You and O’Toole will stay out here?’

  ‘Yeah, not sure I smell good enough to be in company right now anyway. Also, probably better for us not to be too visible until we’ve put tonight to bed properly. Good luck with Meehan. Make him pay…for the Priest.’

  O’Keegan looked down, his sadness obvious.

  ‘I will, don’t worry about that…’

  Having said that was necessary, O’Keegan and Flannery walked back towards the warehouse. O’Keegan knocked on the door for perhaps the last time and the noise of the event burst out as the doorman opened the door to let them back in. Shorty and O’Toole had once again faded off to their spot in the alley, waiting for the night’s event to end.

  ++

  As Flannery and O’Keegan entered, the already ear pounding noise of the crowd multiplied as the crowd almost as one saw O’Keegan’s arrival realizing that despite Meehan’s boys proclamation, O’Keegan did have the courage to be here, now no doubts that the last course would soon be served. The cheer they make is thrown up to the heavens as O’Keegan walks to stand beside Alteri in the centre of the blood soaked ring. All faces turn towards them and with some relief Alteri lowered his arms after having tried, with little success, to calm down the hyped up masses while waiting for O’Keegan to make his way to the ring as the last contestant. O’Keegan smiled grimly and leaned down to speak into Alteri’s ear,

  ‘Don’t do anything about it now, try to keep as much of a poker face as you can. After I tell you what I’m about to tell you, keep it together okay. Take a second or so, then go and see Shorty. He’s waiting outside in the alley opposite. He’ll tell you what’s happening.’

  Alteri looked up, trying to figure out from his face what O’Keegan had to say.

  ‘Why, what’s going on boss? You don’t look good.’ Looking O’Keegan over, Alteri noticed the red drying patch of blood around the cuff of O’Keegan’s shirt.

  ‘You okay? What happened? Where’s the Priest?’

  ‘We just ran into one of Meehan’s boys. Meehan tried to finish our problem prematurely. I guessed they thought if they could stop me getting back then it would all be over. Alteri, Meehan’s man…he killed the Priest.’

  Alteri kept silent, no sign that he had heard O’Keegan visible. His eyes quickly scanned the room until they fell upon Meehan. Meehan couldn’t have yet known the full details of what had gone on at the meat shop, there was no way he could know. Meehan was watching them both with absolute concentration, his nervousness and surprise under control to Alteri’s eyes, not showing anything in the fact that O’Keegan was here despite Meehan’s best efforts to the contrary.

  Meehan and his boys had spent the last half hour talking and whispering into any ears that were open, repeating and repeating again to all that O’Keegan had run from the fight. But here he was. O’Keegan. Meehan had been wrong. O’Keegan was here, standing in the centre of the throng, back in full control. Alteri watched Meehan, boring every ounce of hatred into him, willing that each second of eye contact would bring give Meehan some insight into what Alteri intended to do to him if he ever got the chance. He wanted to jump over the heads of the crowd, wanting more than anything to rain down his fists upon Meehan’s head until it had been pulped and smashed. But Alteri didn’t move, keeping it all inside while O’Keegan’s words circulated faster and faster in his mind and then it all clicked. He moved backwards and as he did, Meehan’s eyes that had been riveted on him and O’Keegan, lost him. Stepped away from O’Keegan Alteri disconnected himself from the crowd’s focus, lost again in the shuffle of bodies straining to get as close as they could to O’Keegan, the centre of tonight’s Boston universe. A few more steps back and he was close to invisible, indivisible from the multitude of other human shapes and sizes. A few moments later and Alteri was outside, walking without expression or emotion as he made a direct line to Shorty waiting in the alley. He knew what he was going to do, he just needed to wait for the right time and he would make sure that came, one way or another.

  ++

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for coming this evening. We hope you have enjoyed yourself and that it’s been everything we promised’ O’Keegan shouted over the slowly diminishing clamour.

  A beastlike ‘Yeeahhhh’ came out of the mass as the positive voices all expressed their mutual agreement. A cobbled together Frankenstein’s monster of a word, like sewn together limbs and a horrendous cadaver, the ugliness of the blood thirsty mob captured in one near human growl. All faces and consciousness turned to O’Keegan, waiting for the last morsel to be thrown to their still hungry snapping jaws.

  ‘Sorry that there has been some delay. We were unexpectedly held up…’ He looked over at Meehan, at the Commissioner, at Cesare. Cesare just nodded at him, as if he had expected there to be some last minute attempts by Meehan to pull it all back from the potential brink. The Commissioner looked back as if he didn’t quiet understand. Meehan understood perfectly, swallowing slowly wondering what O’Keegan would be prepared to say. A few more moments while O’Keegan seemed to calculate his options then,

  ‘…well, I’m here now and I think you have all waited long enough. Don’t you?’

  The crowd cheered in agreement, being led forward by the nose, O’Keegan’s hand firmly on the brass ring.

  ‘So, if Meehan would be so kind as to meet me behind the curtain, we’ll be with you in a few short moments.’

  O’Keegan pivoted on his toes and walked purposefully to the changing area. The claps of encouragement, of support both real and otherwise, rained down on Meehan’s shoulders as he walked near blindly to join O’Keegan behind the curtain. Meehan, his brother and a suited slab of beef, walked through to stand amongst the meanly constructed plank benches, not sure how they had managed to arrive at this point. All other avenues now closed but for this. Meehan made a conscious effort to focus, shaking his head after the mental whiplash of seeing O’Keegan walking once more into the warehouse to take command of the Boston masses. Meehan had been sure that this would never happen, he had sent one of his best, someone he was sure could solve the problem. What the hell had happened? O’Keegan was supposed to be tucked up somewhere safe to await his pleasure later this evening. He had pictured it, over and over, the slices he would cut off O’Keegan. He had seen and almost smelt the warm pumping blood of O’Keegan as he shaved skin and muscle from his bones, slice after slice. What the hell had happened? O’Keegan interrupted his night-dreams,

  ‘You fucked up, y
our boy killed the Priest.’

  ‘I killed the who…the Priest, what fucking Priest?’

  ‘The Priest. One of my boys. The first one to fight tonight. You killed him.’

  Meehan grinned, now a little happier than at least he’d manage to get one of them.

  ‘So what. What do I care?’ O’Keegan stepped in, grabbing hold of Meehan’s lapels as he planted his face an inch away from Meehan’s. Surprised at O’Keegan’s speed, Meehan’s muscle stepped forward then stopped short, feeling Flannery’s shotgun pressing into his side.

  O’Keegan continued, oblivious to everything but Meehan.

  ‘The point is you fuck, I care’. Meehan stepped back, knocking aside O’Keegan’s loosening grip.

  ‘Come on O’Keegan, grow up for Christ sake. If he was in the business then he knew the risks. Everyday he turns up for work in this job he’s putting his head willingly on the block. This time I was the executioner, tomorrow it might have been someone else. It’s the risk we all take.’

  ‘So your head is on the block too?’

  Meehan nodded. ‘Yeah, mine, yours, my brother’s, all of us. I’m not here to educate you O’Keegan. I’m not your Pa…’ Meehan almost smiled. ‘If you can’t take it then you shouldn’t have started all this, everything was just fine before you came along and stuck your nose in my business, all of these guys would probably still be alive if it wasn’t for your screwing around.’

  ‘I can take it Meehan…and I can take you. You’ve lost, Meehan. In a few minutes it’s all going to be over.’

  Meehan grinned, and began to unbutton his jacket. Setting aside all the tried and failed attempts, it was back to where it all started when he was a kid. Meehan almost felt relief. After all the moves and counter moves, it was all back in his hands, he had won before, now wouldn’t be any different. Him and another guy, giving each other hell to see who had what it took. No more intrigue, no more politics and bullshit, just two kids wanting to beat the crap out of each other. This was pretty much how it had started for both of them way back when, two kids that couldn’t and wouldn’t back down. Two kids who had more meanness than sense or at least too much self pride to give up and lie down, to allow someone else to rub their nose in the dirt. But despite the pleasant simplicity to it all, Meehan still had to grasp for the advantage, always looking for any edge.