by Debra Dunbar
DeBarre replied, “I believe it is, from what I’ve seen.”
“I’ll have you brought to a telephone.” He snapped his fingers.
DeBarre turned for the door, then stopped to exchange another quick glance with Vincent before turning to the Capo.
“That Smith character, he came close to embarrassing you.”
“How so?” Vito grumbled.
“Beyond the obvious, I mean. It took real planning to set up an innocent girl like this.”
Vito stepped past Hattie. “What girl is that?”
DeBarre nodded at Hattie. “Every little coincidence he’d stitched together to make her look like some sorta light pincher? It took balls and brains. Anyways, I wish you luck.”
Vito glared at the man. “She is a light pincher.”
DeBarre cleared his throat as he stretched his arms. “She was set up to make you look like a fool, sir. We sure coulda used her help out there, but she couldn’t do any magic. Not even when her life was in danger. Not even when those Russians were trying to put a bullet in her head. Clearly she’s not capable.”
Hattie bit back a grin, forcing her expression back into a neutral mask as Vito stepped in front of her, inspecting her face. Then he turned to Vincent.
“Which is it? Is she a pincher or not?”
“I’m ashamed to admit that I was fooled, Capo,” Vincent bent his head. “I believed Smith. I caught her and was bringing her to you when we were waylaid. But in all honesty I’ve got to tell you that all the times I’ve been face-to-face with her, I’ve never seen her perform any magic. It’s always been heresay. It’s always been Smith’s word I’ve relied upon.”
Hattie held her breath, afraid to look at him. What was he doing? He’d surely suffer for this. He’d be sent upstate, or beaten, maybe even killed. Why was he doing this for her?
Vito snapped his chin at DeBarre. “You agree?”
DeBarre simply replied, “She can’t cast any sorta magic. Saw it myself. Smith put her into a position to get caught by the Feds, then by you. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Smith was actually the light pincher himself.”
Vito swirled to face Lefty and Hattie stiffened, knowing the man’s words were going to carry more weight than any of the others in this room. “You doubt her abilities, Alonzo?” he asked.
With a sigh and a slight bow, Lefty replied, “I think she’s just a girl who got caught in the middle of all this. A remarkable girl, and maybe one of the best boat-leggers we’ve hired. But there’s nothing magical about her that I’ve seen.”
“So,” DeBarre offered, picking up Lefty’s cue, “that would have been embarrassing once the rest of the families found out she wasn’t no pincher.”
Vincent nodded with fervor. “Which was probably all part of Smith’s plan to begin with.”
Vito scowled as his face turned red, then he turned away.
Lefty added, “She played the part good and well. I’ll give her that. And who can blame her, what with us pulling guns on her parents and all.”
DeBarre shook his head, gesturing for the front of the hotel. “Does it look like she had anything to do with this?”
Lefty nodded. “Girl’s just a girl.”
Was this truly happening? Why would these three suddenly jump in to save her from the Capo like this? Especially DeBarre. She’d just met him. He’d nearly died…
But then, that was it. She’d saved his life with her Aqua Vitae. And now, he was helping to save hers.
Vito spun on his heel, and everyone froze. He lumbered forward, working his hands in and out of fists. Finally, with a groaning sigh, he declared, “Get her and her parents out of here. We don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“Yes, Capo,” Lefty replied, jerking Hattie away from Vito before the man flew into an ensuing rage.
Hattie trotted out behind DeBarre.
Once the door had closed behind them all, Tony stood with a twist in his brow. “What’s the word?”
DeBarre peered around the corner to the lobby desk. “That the phone there?”
Tony nodded.
DeBarre smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Gents, it’s been a gas. But I’m afraid I really must make a phone call.”
Vincent reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you for your help.”
“Hey, don’t forget. All you palookas owe us Philly boys big, now. I will be calling to collect.” DeBarre turned to Hattie. “If you find your way up the Delaware anytime soon, and you run into Bill McCoy, you tell him that Loren says you’re off limits, and then maybe swing by the cannery to share a glass of something with me.”
Hattie smirked. “I might do that.”
DeBarre shook Lefty’s hand with a nod, then withdrew to the lobby desk.
Lefty turned to Tony. “Anyone spot Smith yet? Or…Dmitrevich? Whatever.”
Tony replied, “Not yet. Man’s a ghost.”
Vincent said, “He’s probably still in the building.”
Hattie declared, “Which means my parents might still be in danger. Come on, boys. We’re not done.”
Vincent pulled his piece, inspected the rounds, then nodded. Lefty flipped his pistol overhand to do the same. The four rushed up the stairs as Tony led the way. Tony shoved the stairwell door open, holding it for the others.
Hattie moved to sweep around Tony, only to be held back by Vincent. “Wait!” He pointed to a body on the floor, then trained his gun up the hallway.
Hattie’s stomach dropped. “Who…is that?”
“Looks like Curly,” Vincent grumbled.
He lifted his fingers and gave them a snap. Time wound to a halt. He reached for Hattie’s hand, pulling her forward toward the door left ajar behind Curly’s body. She shoved it open to find the room in ruins. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but instead they simply lingered in a cloud around her eyelashes. Rubbing them clear, she stepped into the room.
There was no blood, which was a good sign. The bed was mostly made, though the blankets had been twisted, as if someone had struggled there.
Vincent tapped her shoulder, then pointed to the far corner.
Hattie would’ve cried out if she could in the time bubble. She shoved forward through the time-stiffened air, reaching out for Alton, who sat in a chair, hair a mess, eyes haunted.
Vincent released the time bubble, and the sudden thinning of the air sent Hattie stumbling forward, nearly tackling her father as she wrapped her arms around him. Alton sucked in a gasp of alarm.
Hattie stroked his head. “Da!” His arms trembled, and she realized it wasn’t just from her sudden appearance out of thin air. “Are you hurt? Where’s Ma?”
Alton’s face twisted in grief. “They took her.”
Chapter 26
Lefty shouted “Vincent!” as he crouched over Curly.
Vincent rushed for the doorway, kneeling to find Curly’s eyes open, though tight with pain.
“He took a bullet in the gut,” Lefty grumbled. “I sent Tony to get someone.” He pulled a handkerchief and balled it, sliding it over the wound. As he pressed down, Curly released a quick shriek.
“Who did this?” Lefty asked the man as his cries weakened.
“That…creep. The one that was whispering all that stuff to Vincent.” Curly coughed again, then whispered, “I came to tell them to get packed. You know…so we could move the parents.” He coughed again and nearly gagged. “I walked in on Smith. He had the old man…out. Turned and drew on me. Then ran.”
“Someone was guarding the floor?” Vincent urged.
“Yeah,” Curly replied. “Cooper.”
Vincent eased away. “Is it possible…Cooper’s involved with Smith?”
Lefty swore under his breath. “He’s Crew. May be a pill, but he’s one of us. No way he’d turn coat.”
“I’m not so sure,” Vincent mused. “I saw Cooper and Smith at the bar together. It was the night before Smith found me up by the grocer’s. They looked to be in cloaks and daggers, if you take my meaning. Sm
ith told me he’d propositioned Cooper before he came to me.” Vincent sighed. “Maybe Cooper took him up on it, after all, and all the rest was just the plan?”
Lefty squinted, mulling it over. “You’re suggesting Cooper’s working for the Russians?”
“It makes sense. Where do you think Smith was getting all that info? We know he’s Bratva. He’s no info broker. Everything he knew he either got from Cooper, or me, or Hattie.”
“But what’s the motive?” Lefty asked. “For Cooper? It’s a death sentence.”
“He ain’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. You know that. And he’s been real sore ever since we dressed him down in front of Vito.”
Lefty smirked. “I did shoot him in the foot.”
“He changed his name, his church… I think he’s been on the way out for a while, now.”
The stairway door opened, and a small team of gangsters streamed into the hall. Fern raced through the center of them, barking out orders as she shoved Vincent aside with her knee. She had Curly’s shirt cut off, and pressed a handful of hotel towels against the wound.
Vincent motioned for Hattie and Alton to exit the room, guiding them away from the pool of blood that had gathered in the hallway carpet.
Hattie whispered, “Is he alive?”
“Hanging on, but just barely.” He nodded to Alton. “How are you? Are you hurt?”
Alton shook his head. “He gave me a wallop, but it’s nothing I haven’t had before. It’s Branna I’m worried about.”
“We’ll find her,” Hattie told him. “Won’t we boys?”
Vincent looked to Lefty.
“No,” Lefty told him. “After we take care of these Bratva fools, maybe we can go look for her, but not now. Capo isn’t gonna send his manpower after some Irish woman, especially when we just convinced him this one isn’t a pincher.”
Hattie tried to push past them. “I want to speak to Corbi. He was supposed to protect my parents and he failed. I’ll hold him responsible.”
Lefty held out his hand. “Probably not a good idea. He just ordered you out of the hotel.”
“Hell with him!”
She shoved past Lefty and Vincent reached out to grab her, gripping her upper arms in his hands. “Stop. You’re gonna get yourself killed. Lefty’s right. Corbi isn’t going to give a rat’s ass about your mother. Storming down there and yelling at him is only going to get you a bullet in your head.”
“It’s my mother,” she snapped. “Those Bratva bastards are probably holding her as a hostage. Your boss won’t trade for her and they’ll kill her once they realize she’s of no value to them. I have to find her. I have to save her.”
“Hattie, Vito will never allow it.”
“He promised to protect my parents,” she snapped, trying to yank her arms free of his grasp.
He gripped her tight, giving her a little shake and in the process pulling her against him. “No, I promised to protect your parents.” He waited until that sunk in. “And I intend to do so.”
“Vincent,” Lefty warned. “Not gonna happen. You’re needed right now. These Russians have only retreated. They’re regrouping and they’ll be back. Vito needs you here, to defend the family. Your family needs you.”
“I made a promise, and I’m keeping it. I’m not asking, Lefty,” he replied, his eyes still on Hattie. “I’m telling.”
There was a moment of silence, then Lefty sighed. “Been nice knowing you, pincher.”
“Does that mean you’re not coming?” Vincent looked over at his handler.
“Course I’m coming. It’s my job to make sure you stay outta trouble, you mook.”
He looked back to Hattie, his eyes meeting hers before he let go of her arms. “Soon as we get outta here, we’ll find a way to track down where they’re keeping your mother. And we’ll get her back. Okay?”
She stared up at him, her eyes huge. Then she nodded. “Okay.”
Vincent led the way as they headed downstairs, stepping into the lobby to find the circus had achieved a degree of order. The firefight in the street was over. The last of the Russians had either fled or had been shot. Wounded were gathered in tidy rows while the able-bodied lingered in clutches, eyes peeled on Vito.
The Capo loomed in the direct center of the lobby, orbiting the space below the grand chandelier as he ranted and raved about the lack of preparation, the wounds incurred, the insults borne from this attack. No one offered a response.
Tony met them at the bottom of the stairs. “Best to stay around the edges. He’s in a mood.”
Corbi stopped his tirade midsentence and scowled over at them. “Get over here. I need you both. Now.”
Vincent caught his breath. “Capo—”
Vito lifted a fat finger at Lefty’s face. “Can you not control him? Throw those Irish out, and get your pincher ready. We are at war.” He turned to Vincent. “And you, Vincenzo. The day I have the greatest need of you, you’ve shown me your true value. Rather, your lack of value.” His face darkened. “You get taken by these Russians and need to be rescued. You have given me false information, caused me to waste resources and look the fool. You are worthless to me. Worthless.”
Vincent drew a breath to respond, but Vito turned to dismiss him, addressing Lefty. “Alonzo, you will escort him. See that he makes it home, and stays there. I shall make a call to Ithaca in the morning. Do this…and perhaps you will prove your worth.”
Vincent nearly lost his breath at the comment. Even Lefty seemed shaken.
Ithaca?
He stood motionless as Vito bellowed for a clear path to the elevators. It was over. All of it.
But before he came to terms with that, he had a promise to keep.
“Come with me.” Vincent slipped through the crowd, slicing through until he reached Tony, perched on the desk not far from DeBarre. “Tony…where’s the war party going?”
“What?” Tony muttered, looking for a way to avoid Vincent’s company.
“Corbi’s gathering the troops, right? Going to hit back at the Russians. So, where is everyone going?”
Tony mumbled, “Uh… Washington Hill.”
“What’s in Washington Hill?”
“Word around the room is that’s the last known headquarters of the Bratva,” DeBarre spoke up.
Vincent nodded, then held his gaze with DeBarre. “Why are you still here?”
“Can’t get through to Philly.”
“Are they getting hit, you think?”
DeBarre nodded. “Arnoud’s probably on the case. I’ll bet he is. And I almost feel sorry for those bastards.” DeBarre’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to whisper, “Ithaca, huh?”
Vincent couldn’t answer.
DeBarre added with a chuck to Vincent’s shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe there’s a buyer down in Atlantic City who could use you.”
Vincent turned away. “I suppose we’ll see.”
“What’s this that about, then?” Hattie asked.
“Not now,” he grumbled. “One thing at a time. Let me figure out how to get your mother back first, then I’ll…” His voice trailed off. Vito was sending him upstate. Disgraced. He’d be traded…if he was lucky.
Tony shook his head. “We’re already heading to Washington Hill. If Smith is there…”
Lefty said, “Fat chance of that. They’re going to find an empty building. Smith probably planted that little nugget to send the whole Crew on a snipe hunt.”
Hattie threw her hands in the air. “Well, someone has to know something!”
DeBarre stepped forward. “Excuse me, miss? But, I think your father’s trying to say something?”
She spun on DeBarre, then lowered her hands. Turning to Alton, she noted his profound discontent. “Da?”
“So…” he mumbled. “It’s a thought.”
Vincent prodded, “What is it?”
“There’s more than one Russian over at the mill, is all. We take breaks together at times. I kinda struck up a friendship with them.
They’re the only ones who bring proper tea to work.”
Vincent asked, “And you think they’ll know where the Bratva are holed up?”
Alton shrugged. “We’re not an upright bunch over there. I’ll wager ya someone knows something.”
Lefty shrugged. “As good a lead as any.”
Vincent eyed DeBarre. “Loren? If you’re not on the road for Philly, we sure could use a hand.”
DeBarre reached into his jacket to produce a comb, ran it through his hair twice, then replied, “The enemy of a friend is most definitely my enemy.”
They stepped around and over people to reach the street, still spangled with bodies and ruined vehicles. The Baltimore police had gathered at a distance, dealing with the public as they streamed from the surrounding buildings in small groups. Luckily this was downtown, and not around any neighborhoods. And the police knew better than to interfere with the families when the war drums were pounding.
DeBarre guided everyone around the corner and down a block, gesturing toward his car as the sky above began to thin into a deep blue of dawn. They stuffed into the vehicle as best they could, shoulder-to-shoulder.
DeBarre asked, “So, where to, gents?”
Alton replied, “Bedlam, son.”
The Down Pincher turned in his seat with an incredulous wince.
Lefty clarified from the front passenger seat, “Bethlehem Steel. It’s on the water. Take a right up here, then keep on.”
As they drove east out of the downtown area, Vincent did his best to give Hattie space on the seat. But there wasn’t much room. His leg pressed against hers. She didn’t seem put out by the confines of the car. Rather, she was preoccupied with her hands, making quick gestures with her fingers.
Alton patted her knee. “Don’t you worry, girl. We’ll get your mother soon enough.”
She shook her head distractedly. “It’s not that. I’m just…” She peered at Vincent. “Can you see…oh. What am I talking about? Of course, you wouldn’t see it.”
Alton added with a lift of a crooked finger, “Was it a canary?”