The Queen and The Viper

by Adam C Mitchell

  Morgan was shocked he’d never heard of a sponger like this, the list went on for several pages and they were things like Eleven fish, A one kilogram bag of chicken and pigeon feed, a cheap ticker, two cheap nickel cigars and a freshly cut bunch of keys but it didn’t say where the keys were for. But no purchases of any kind of weapons, the only other thing was a mention of an unpaid pink slip for an auto-mobile. That might lead to something, or somewhere Morgan thought then pain making him wish Robinson’s flask had magically refilled itself.

  “Cap’, you sure you didn’t find any receipts for a weapon when the smart cookies at the Police woman’s bureau searched his financials?”

  “Certain Morgan, not even a penknife or letter opener. So you sure he’s not our butcher?”

  “Defiantly Cap’ with the cash he’d taken off these dame’s, he’d have plenty of folding money. No we need to find Ashford Bell, we need a solid description first though sir.”

  

  The night turned cold, dark and moonless, mustard yellow wisps of fog had drifted in from the dark blue Pacific. As her speeding Sedan hurtled around a sharp corner, taking it a little to aggressively almost upending her, her captive passenger and any hope of saving Jack. Easing off the throttle just enough she pulled into a side road, to steady herself. Taking a few brief moments she let herself think back to the night when he promised he would be fine, she remembered the safety she felt in his embrace. She was his dame and him her man and nobody would rip that from her. She felt a wave of courage take hold of her, she could and would do this.

  It was a good night for an adventure mused Peggy. In a matter of minutes she hit a straight road that took her back to the city, towards Liberties heart. Once again her foot was hard on the throttle, the Sedan roared into a higher speed as if to new the urgency of this mad dash.

  Jack was in the city somewhere at the hands of the House. She would find him no matter what, Jack’s directions were crystal clear in her mind, he’d had a hunch where they were operating out of and it was the last place anybody would think to look, but even Jack had to admit it may not pay off. Peggy though wasn’t worried as Jack’s guesses were usually bang on the money. She guessed it must be a Central City thing, they seem to be able to sniff out trouble like a bloodhound following a trail. A moment after she had crossed the ten mile line, down a new concrete highway that now stretched out before her. Along this road she’d get to, the place in know time. Her ride roared like a beast set free, at well over seventy miles an hour. After devouring five or six miles in minutes she slowed the car, deciding it would be best from hear on out to drive more cautiously due to the tighter roads and a black and white parked under a red and white billboard advertising Fisk Tires. The last thing she needed was to be stopped for speeding, even if it would of made the poor officers career, for catching the illusive queen herself. After driving as carefully as she could past her black and white obstacle she let another mile pass, before shifting back up to around fifty fast enough to get there with urgency, and slow enough to pull of a save if something came up further on up the road.

  Suddenly she pulled a left that switched onto a dirt road that passed a series of Industrial complexes and hugged a thick tree line and onto the part of the city, neat the docks and Transcontinental pier, where a few lonely factories dotted the horizon she saw in the windscreen. Driving on this cobble and dirt road wasn’t easy, it forced to yet again slow, then after a few more miles skirting the edge of the city a small flashing light came to her attention. Quickly she killed the headlight’s of the car, idled the engine to a low purr, moments later cutting the engine completely. All was ominously quiet in the black fog filled night. Peggy climbed out of the sedan and hesitated beside the car, the shadows from a nearby factory shot menacing shapes into the shadows, that unnerved her. Donning on again her small black mask, she took out the kiss spinning the chamber and kept her finger on the trigger just in case, then set off again in the direction of the flashing light.

  The Queen moved quietly, soundlessly slinking through the pitch black darkness. If this was indeed the House’s rendezvous. Nobody would have known hiding as it was in plane site for the world to see, nestled next to an import business that dealt in snakes. The Hello Molly toy company, was famous all over the country for their Hello Molly children’s toys. It was the perfect cover as she looked on she wondered if the House had all these buildings as fronts. But she couldn’t get bogged down with those details not yet anyway. Yet who would expect a criminal undertaking such as the House of Games, here under the roof and cover of a company that spread the values of good honest family values and the good old red white and blue. But if she was in the right place she would probably find an armed gorilla or two suited up, packing and playing guard hidden in some of the darker places, experience told her if this was the right place, she would be right. This was and would be doubly true if her and Jack’s guesses were well-founded and bang on the money! Outwardly she wore an armour of total calm, but her heart was racing, blood was pounding wildly like a fire through every delicate vein, as she made her approach.

  I bet Dr. Dream or that miserable jerk Crimson Cutlass not to mention Lady Nightshade felt like this when on the job! She moaned inwardly a hit of annoyance, her inner angel complaining about the rest of her comrades in arms

  No they would all be loving it, and would be causing all manner of hell along the way!

  Chapter Ten

  Peggy made out the outlines of a ramshackle brick building adjacent to the toy factory. It was one story and seemed to be only three rooms, from what she could see in the limited light she had. The room to her left was lighted the other too in the small building not. She crept towards the lighted side, every sense and skill she had about her alert to danger. At the mere hoot of a passing owl she paused for precious moments. Pulse pounding and a prayer for safety on her quivering lips. So much depended on her, Peggy Ellen tonight – she could not fail. It would be tonight or never, do or die. Failure would mean tasting Dunham’s vengeance. Suddenly from out of nowhere and without warning a dark figure loomed between her and the light which flickered between shutters on the window.

  It was a sentry! This gorilla of a man, not so much in size but body odour seem to be leaning against a wall next to the corner of the building. He foolishly seemed to have left his Thompson machine gun on a crate a few feet away, she would have to avoid him getting that she deduced. Peggy tensed, catching her breath sharply. She hadn’t tried to tell herself any different at this stage, there was no point lying to herself; these were desperate men if she was caught, it would mean certain degradation, humiliation, torture and more than likely death. Or Worse!

  Most other female heroines new to the crime fighting show, may have given up here. But Peggy was made of sterner stuff, she had to be. The sight of the overbearing guard only added more coal to the fire, more determination to pull tonight off. She as she saw it only had one chance, to push forward no matter what, Jack was like her in that regard, focused, direct and when needed unwavering, it was one of his many qualities that she admired. She had the sheer element of surprise on her side, she had to take the sentry out no matter what it took, but to do it as quickly and quietly as possible. She was moving slowly toward the unsuspecting man, holstering the gun as she moved to strike. A gun blast would alert whoever was inside to her location and that would probably get her and Jack killed, no she had to do this in silence. The black hooded sentry was half-asleep at his post, great she thought this was going to be a piece of cake. She made her move, but he snapped to attention a moment too late however to miss the sexily black glad female hurl herself upon him from out of the night. A forceful hurried motion towards his sternum then sweaty armpit, took him off guard, then with a second blow stopped him from calling out for help, thanks to a strong chop to the throat. Then finally peggy lunged again, every ounce of her being, powering the move home, her right arm powerfully swinging in the arc of a swift half circle as she moved. The solid for
ce of her gloved palm against the side of his head carrying both of them to the ground. Peggy straddled a top the heap. She was a bit hazy from that strike it had taken more out of her than she thought, but she needed to get moving again. She rose immediately dusting herself off, blowing the downed guard a little kiss. Like before she had planned for this, taking back out the small roll of duct tape, sealing the man’s lips then binding his hands and feet in case he came to. She quickly rolled the limp figure into a corner with a healed boo, to she hoped prevent discovery.

  A minute later, Peggy paused and let her keen eyes take over, straining in the direction of the illuminated window. Her great hazel orb’s were agleam. This was the work she loved, she couldn’t imagine herself doing anything else, and what she was doing tonight, was not for money, thrill or pride, this time she told herself was for a cause greater than life itself. Tonight’s adventure was her meat and its danger her desert, her time for thinking and planning was over. It was time for pure unhindered action, and all that lay ahead of her. Swiftly yet stealthy as a shadow she gained the side of the window. A flurry of voices came to her keen ears from within the building, she swore she recognized one of them. But not from her life as the Queen of Spades, instead from her life as socialite Peggy Ellen, time would tell if she knew the face to that voice. Looking through the broken shutters, she got a view of the room, carefully avoiding the light which filtered through the slats. She looked inside, it seemed to be a small square room, with more than one door all she assumed leading to a different location, as it was a small one story building it didn't take her long to figure those doors must lead underground or back to the toy factory. She looked again and glimpsed three hooded figures seated at a round table a few feet away. A rough table and beaten up chairs were the only thing inside that a person could describe as furnishings. There was a bottle of something in a chilled ice bucket and glasses. These weren’t regular crooks who brought champagne to a hideout. No these had to be money makers, maybe socialites like her or at the very least high end crooks the type that prefer the long con or big five figure jobs, the amateurs wouldn’t dream of touching. But to Peggy at the moment they were just goons who occasionally drank as they waited, talking and joking in a luridly low tones, inaudible to the ever watchful queen.

  One of the trio who seemed to down the drink like water, more than his counterparts was also louder than them to, it didn’t take much for Peggy to over hear every word.

  “Say Beckett” he bellowed “why not get the show going already for crying out loud, get this crap over with you know? No use waiting on the others, I know he’s your so called farther an all but, old Henley always was a slug fat slug any ways—”

  “step farther my dear Mr. Martin and if it was up to him he’d barley even call himself that, but blood is blood I’m afraid. But your right he is an idiot when it comes to procrastinations. So please don’t stop your character assassination as to a point I whole heartedly agree with you”

  “Yeah like I said an idiot, A total overbearing prized fop if ya’ ask me. A fat waste of space who prefers the perks of the ivory tower but won’t pull his fat rump up and get the job done, you follow. You know it and I know it pal, that jerk will just hold everything up and we won’t get this job done till daybreak. I’m for...”

  So this was a family affair, the old farther and son team, that’s one way to get crooks to do as there told. Play the old Farther knows best card, and if that don’t work the old ‘do it for the family’ card could and probably was often played. Peggy thought

  The other hood who had been addressed as Beckett, interrupted with an elegant wave of a gloved hand full of pomp. But despite his partner Peggy couldn’t make out his words.

  She figured he was reasoning with the other hood. The other man just laughed raucously. “Yeah” he sneered loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.

  “That’s what you say Beckett, but I say different. I think we could do with less politics in this little crew of ours, for that matter less politician's to boot too. Other than you pal the rest I don’t think can be trusted, well apart from my little brother Joseph that is. They love all this god damn waiting and playing of their little games. Yeah messing with your food is all well and good. Well for you it is you play a part being the inner circles voice and all, but me I just get to wait and maybe dump a body now and then, I tell you its not on. We need to sort all this mess out before someone comes snooping for that Malone mug. He’s been here for hours, playing Henley’s games. If you ask me he should have been bumped off hours ago.”

  Peggy braced herself in the darkness both their hunches had been right on the money. She perched and watch as the man known as Beckett got up walked towards a side door and left, to be replaced by another hood a minute later. Where was he going, was he going to Jack, what was she going to do now?

  Morgan waited till the police butcher had done his patch job, using about as much care as a diaper wearing drool magnet would with a sewing kit would. The so called doc, hurt more than the whack on the head did Morgan thought.

  “That’s it. I’ve done the best I can and it’s my best work to, if I do say so myself” the doctor said, despite the fact that Morgan’s face said otherwise.

  “Mr. Morgan it would be wise to take a couple of day’s off the job. Rest up, maybe get some fishing. After all that’s an ugly gash you got there!” But in truth Morgan wasn’t going to do any such thing.

  “Listen doc, if that yarn my ma’ used to tell me about a stitch in time, well it’s on the up and up. Well doc, you must have saved me about ninety nine of em.’ But thanks anyway he smiled “Don’t worry I’ll come see you for a check up, you won’t lose this bit of business— One thing before you go does your wife sew?” Sorry to sat. I’m single detective. Why’d you ask….”

  “Thought so...never mind” Morgan said interrupting, as he picked up the keys.

  “Might find a use for these Captain. Mind if I ——”

  “Help yourself, Oh you want Robinson to go with you?” the Captain enquired.

  “No I’ll take Wilkins though, if she doesn’t mind playing nurse for a while.” he smiled at the female officer, doing his best to catch her eye.

  “Not right now Morgan, but here’s my phone number and address. You know for well whatever….” If you ever, well just use your imagination.” She replied with a flirtatious wink and smile combo. There was a right angled poorly stitched cut running down the side of Morgan’s head, laying where the brim of his fedora met its crown. He pulled the brim down to hide it.

  “Sir. Can you lend me a gun, seeing as mine will have to go to Ballistics.”

  “I’ve only got my service piece, and well that’s low on brass anyway.” Costner replied.

  “Well...you can borrow mine. Well if you want, you can take Kelly, she’s a big classy calibre. She does have a bit of a kick to her.” Morgan just smiled “Wow a 44 Magnum, that’s a rather big gun for a pair of dainty ankles, I’m impressed doll!”

  “Well, I like all things big honey… Sorry I mean detective!” her advance was beginning to reel Morgan in.

  “Well Wilkins a forty-five is big and is perfect for what I’m planning. Don’t worry I’ll take care of her.”

  Wilkins Colt Anaconda was a real beaut, Morgan had to admit he was slightly jealous of her. Taking Kelly from her handbag she passed the over sized hand cannon over “So detective you after big game?”

  “very possibly.” Morgan said before breaking the gun to check the magazine, to make sure it was loaded. “Tell me Wilkins, you ever gone Moose hunting?”

  “Well, no but I did try that clay pigeon one once, that was limit really.”

  “Well beautiful, when a guy goes after a Moose bull. He uses a horn that well, well it sounds like a piece of Moose skirt… then well the bull comes running to—well do it’s stuff!” A slight confused wrinkle broke on her forehead. Then she got it and blushed.

  “Well Wilkins, I’m going to find myself a horn.
Something bug and loud. But there’s nothing in the rule books to say the rest of you can’t carry on hunting while I go horn shopping.” As he said that he made his way out of Room K and downstairs.

  “Joe, go let him in.” Locke said with faux politeness. “Here I’ll watch him from the landing window that looked down on the docking bay. Just don’t forget to keep him covered all the time, and lock the door after you to be safe. Now hurry!”

  Monroe complied nervously and went downstairs. Returning a few minutes later, Stackpole noticed he seemed different. He was now deathly pale. Behind him was Anthony Rogers, who’d entered the office, smoking a cigarette with that same strange green holder held tightly between his teeth. He nodded politely to both men in the room.

  “Please sit down.” Locke said playing along with the niceties, nodding to the chair. Which Rogers did happily. Inspector Anthony Rogers seated himself and just grinned like a maniacal Cheshire cat.

  “My dear Mr Locke, you may remove that finger from the trigger of your gun.” he hissed

  “My dear Mr. Locke you may remove that finger from the trigger of your gun.” he hissed “and you the hammer Monroe. I am totally unarmed.” Stackpole was shocked. How did he know? He flushed with guilt, his eyes narrowing. He took his gun out, unwrapping his finger from the pistols small trigger. He placed the gun on the desk in front of him as Monroe dropped the hammer in the floor with a dull thud. Locke’s right hand still curled around it, not wanting to relinquish his hold on the firearm.

  “Monroe, go on frisk the badge.” Locke ordered.

  “Already done Stack—’ before he came in and he’s right he’s not packing.” Locke just nodded