by Chip Yde
THE UNTOUCHABLE AND UNKNOWN
Torso wants to kill me, Eliot thought.
Cleveland infected Eliot like a disease. Being here again was torture. Coming here for Eliot was like an old general touring an old battlefield, a ghost among ghosts.
Like that old soldier Eliot pressed on. Through a broken patch of fence he entered the dark rail yard leaving a shred of his trench coat on the sharp wire. He walked hunched over now. An unseen weight, the cost of years of work and worry, bore down on him.
He was alone. The shadows were his only friends on this night of nights. He clung to them. They would shield him from night watchmen, vagrants and a certain mass murderer who was waiting for him somewhere in the darkened rail yard.
The air was filled with the smell of diesel. Eliot choked on it as he made his way through the darkness. A train blowing its horn in the distance was the only sign of life. As the horn blast faded into the distance the air was very still.
Torso.
Eliot remembered coming here in 1934. Cleveland had been someplace back when Eliot was the City Safety Supervisor. Before the war there was plenty to build and people to build it. Now that was all gone and Cleveland’s star was fading.
Eliot had other troubles tonight.
Torso was what the press called him. He was the worst killer any city had ever seen since the Ripper in Whitechapel almost fifty years prior. He did things to his victims. Removed parts from them. Played with them like dolls. Psychos like Torso had been crawling out of the woodwork in Europe off and on for decades. This was not London or Paris however. This was Cleveland. The people panicked.
They turned to Eliot. He was not a cop anymore. His Untouchables disbanded and he quit the treasury department. He was the Safety Supervisor, but they put it all on him anyway. They turned to him because of the villains he had bested in Chicago. They turned to him because they thought that all criminals were the same.
He beat Eliot at every turn. The bodies piled up. He even dumped one at the 1936 Republican Convention. Eliot even formed a special police squad called the Unknowns to track down the killer, but they got nowhere.
Eliot did the only thing he could. He changed tactics in the heat of battle. Torso was a killer. A hunter. He was feeding on people. His victims were all vagrants. Eliot burnt the shanty town not to flush him out, but to cut off his food supply.
After the fire the killings stopped. Eliot chalked it up as a victory. Torso had left town, been arrested for something else or as Eliot liked to think he had burnt up in the fire.
That was until he got the letter a few days prior.
Whoever wrote it claimed to be the killer and knew every detail of the murders. The author had known things that were not in the papers. That got Eliot’s attention. As did the final line. It said to meet here on the anniversary of the first murder at nine at night.
Eliot looked at his watch in the dim light. He could not make it out in the darkness, but he knew it must be almost eight. He had wanted to get a jump on the culprit. As he looked into the night watchman’s shack and observed the dead body on the floor Eliot knew he should have arrived earlier.
The electric buzz of the light in the ceiling of the shack was the only sound. After the dark rail yard the light was blinding.
Stepping into the shack Eliot examined the corpse. The man’s throat had been cut. Blood and bits of flesh littered the floor. There were no insects. The body was fresh. Torso was minutes ahead of him.
Maybe seconds, Eliot thought.
From the way the body was laying he could tell it was professional. Torso had come from behind. The watchman had died before he knew what was happening.
For the first time Eliot felt the cold chill of fear. He felt stupid for not alerting the authorities, but the postscript of the letter hung in his mind.
Come alone!
I should just get out of here and call the police, Eliot thought.
Eliot felt very exposed. He darted back into the darkness putting as much distance between him and the shack.
Meet me in the rail yard. You know where. That was what the letter had said.
The site where they had found the first victim was just ahead. Eliot would circle it a few times to make sure it was safe.
The murder site was not easy for Eliot to identify. A few abandoned railcars were decaying on an unused piece of track. A water tower that was new to Eliot, but old to the rail yard was hovering beyond that.
Eliot recognized the site after a few minutes of searching. What made it easier was the body lying there just as it had twenty years ago. Despite his better judgment Eliot continued to approach the crumpled form.
Things were going wrong. Eliot had planned to be here early and gain control of the situation. He had hoped to jump Torso when he entered Kingsbury Run. Eliot had had his doubts about whether the man would show at all. Now he was edging toward a dead vagrant with no idea where his quarry was.
Eliot dug a surplus army flashlight out of the pocket of his trench coat. Holding it in one hand and cover his nose with the other he closed in on the body. The urine smell was only overpowered by the odor of feces. The man had clearly soiled himself during the struggle.
Maybe this was a set up Eliot thought while he bent down over the body. Pulling back the wool coat from the man’s neck Eliot searched for a pulse.
“What the fuck!” The body screamed.
Eliot jumped back as his murder victim came to life. Angry teeth reached for his fingers. Eliot panicked and lashed out with his right foot. The vagrant was groggy and on all fours trying to stand. The kick sent the man into the dirt.
“Get away. Ain’t bothering no one.”
Eliot recovered from the shock.
“Get out of here.” Eliot commanded.
“Just sleepin’ man. Just sleepin’.”
“Go away! Now.” Eliot ordered.
The man was just homeless. Eliot had come to all the wrong conclusions. He was just some transient like the ones Torso murdered.
The man lingered. He took a step towards Eliot. The old cop shined the flashlight in the man’s face. His right hand reached for the .45 automatic in his pocket. Maybe this was Torso. The man liked games.
On closer examination Eliot saw the bum was lean. His bloodshot eyes told Eliot that he had been working on sleeping off a hard drunk. This was not his man. This was not Torso.
“Wasn’t bothering no one. No trouble.”
“Get out of here. Tell your friends to clear out too. There is a killer on the loose.” The bum backed away getting some distance between them. His face resembled something that Eliot hoped was comprehension.
Eliot watched him walk away and then turned his attention back to the former crime scene. There was a wooden sign on the ground the bum had been using as a bed. Eliot flipped it over. The words on the back sent a chill up Eliot’s spine.
JUST LIKE OLD TIMES
The quiet night was shattered by machine gun fire. A stream of bullets tore up the ground around Eliot. He bolted, moving faster than he had in years.
The machine gun tracked Eliot. He panicked. It had been years since he had been shot at. His legs seemed to be made of rubber. They moved too slowly. His fingers refused to follow his commands. He could not seem to switch the flashlight off.
Bullets punched into the ground all around Eliot. He could smell the cordite. The shooter was close. Eliot was in real trouble.
Eliot tossed the flashlight. It hit the ground and Eliot kicked the light as hard as he could. The machine gun fire tracked after it. Eliot had bought himself a split second.
He hoped a spl
it second would be enough.
The only shelter Eliot could find was an abandoned rail car sitting in a siding. He raced toward it. The shooting turned back towards Eliot. It was getting more accurate. Two bullets punched through Eliot’s coat just as he reached the open door of the car. He scrambled inside busting up his knees and shins.
The shooting stopped as Eliot hunkered down on the right side of the car.
“Did I touch you Eliot? Not so untouchable now are you Eliot.” The shooter yelled from his hiding place.
It could only be Torso, thought Eliot.
The rail yard seemed quiet now that the gunfire had stopped. There was coughing and fading footsteps in the distance. Eliot guessed it was the bum running for his life.
“Don’t you want to come out and play?” Torso yelled.
“Who are you?” Eliot looked around his hiding place trying to come up with options. The car was made of rotten wood covered in tin. It clearly had not been used in years. There were so many holes in the floor even the bums could not live in there. Eliot studied the thin metal that covered the wood frame. He did not think it would stop a bullet.
“I am the Ripper reincarnated. Killer of low people. A monster, but you know me as Torso.”
“I thought you wanted to surrender?” Eliot shouted.
“Now did I ever say that?”
“What do you want?”
“It’s time to finish this Eliot.”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. The accent told Eliot Torso hailed from the east coast, most likely New York or New Jersey. Possibly Italian descent if he had to guess.
“Time is short. Soon neither one of us will have any more tomorrows.”
Eliot had the automatic in his hand now. He had felt stupid for bringing it, but now he was glad to have it. Regardless he was still outgunned. Eliot had expected a knife wielding psycho. The machine gun, a Thompson by the sound of it, was a strange move for Torso.
“The end is near. Can you feel it?”
“If you surrender yourself I promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure you fair treatment.” Eliot yelled. While he spoke he quietly chambered a round. The longer Torso did not know Eliot was armed the more powerful the pistol would become.
“I don’t think so. You’re in no position to make deals.”
Eliot rose to his feet. Both his legs ached from the damage he had done himself getting in here. The wood beneath his feet threatened to give way. Eliot adjusted his weight and searched for a good hole to shoot out of.
“The police are right behind me. There is no escape for you.” Eliot lied. He hoped to put Torso on the defensive.
“Don’t play me lawman. If the cops were coming they’d be here by now. Especially with all the noise we’re making.”
Eliot found a good hole that gave him a wide view of the yard. He still had no idea where Torso was. The yard was big, but he had to be close.
The abandoned flashlight was still on. It was pointed into Eliot’s train car. The rest of the yard was dark and Eliot was in the spotlight making him even more vulnerable.
“Maybe I did come alone, but I guarantee you someone is going to hear that Thompson of yours.” Eliot said. “Why don’t you lose the gun and come down here. Finishing me off with a knife like you did all those vagrants.”
“No I think you’ll use that pistol in your pocket on me. Anyway I’m pretty comfy up here.” Torso laughed. “I see yooooouuuuu.”
The Thompson blared again. Before he dived for the floor Eliot saw a muzzle flash on top of the water tower. Bullets ripped through the rail car. Eliot dived for safety and his right leg went through the floor. Torso kept firing away as Eliot tried to extract his body from the hole he was in. Rolling onto his side Eliot returned fire. He fired every bullet in his gun at the water tower.
The machine gun stopped.
Eliot’s pistol was empty.
Eliot worked at getting himself free of the hole he was in. He pulled too hard to free himself and splintered wool cut into his side.
The rail yard was silent again. Eliot peered into the darkness trying with every ounce of his will to make out his nemesis. He thought he could make out the Thompson, broken into several pieces, lying at the foot of the water tower. Other than that there was no sign of Torso.
Eliot slid his empty pistol into his pocket. I wonder if it is over, Eliot thought.
Eliot reevaluated the situation. Torso was in the water tower dead, alive or injured. There was no going out the door. Torso had him pinned from an elevated position. He’s unarmed, Eliot thought. He thought about making his way across the yard. Eliot abandoned the idea. A man that brought one Thompson to a gunfight could have another.
There was nothing to be done until dawn unless the police showed up. Eliot decided to hunker down.
He kept an eye on the yard and let his mind wander.
“The killer is preying on the transients, Sir. That is all we know.” The Lieutenant said. Eliot’s Unknowns had all gathered for the briefing at Cleveland Precinct 12. It was the last time they had all been in the same room.
“What do we know about his motivations?” Eliot asked.
“Almost nothing.” The Lieutenant was nervous. His other men were silent.
“Likely suspects?”
“None.”
“Thoughts?” Eliot looked around the room.
No one responded. Most of them suddenly found the floor very interesting. The mayor was waiting on a phone call from Eliot after this meeting.
“The transients?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Where do they congregate?”
“The Hooverville by the river. It’s made up of Oakies, Roaders and people out of work from back East. Few hundred families. Maybe a thousand people or so.”
Eliot stared at the Unknowns in silence until the cops all met his gaze.
“Burn it down.” Eliot said at last.
Eliot thought he was dreaming when he heard the footsteps. Fear gripped him when he realized that he had been asleep. His flashlight battery had depleted and Eliot was in total darkness. There was someone outside the door. He had a shotgun in his hands.
Inching backward into the corner of the car Eliot made himself as small as possible. Torso saw him and stepped into the car. The shotgun barrel tracked toward Eliot. It was over. At this range at least it would be over quick.
A stupid way to die, Eliot thought. He closed his eyes and prepared for the blast.
The hole in the floor saved his life. Torso went right into it. His weight sent jagged, sharp wood all the way into his thigh bone. He fired the shotgun into the air and dropped it to the floor as he used both arms to tear lose his wounded leg.
Eliot charged the crouching figure. Throwing all his weight into him he sent him backwards. They both went out the door.
The two men flew through the air
The fall seemed to take forever. They both hit the ground hard. Eliot, though winded, was the first to his feet. He searched his belt for his other weapon. Eliot’s fingers found the billy club. He grasped it tight and using it like a bat began pummeling the intruder.
For the first time Eliot could make out Torso’s face. It was the last person Eliot ever expected to see again.
Al Capone took the first swing to the face, the second to the neck and blocked the third with his left arm. With his right hand he produced a pearl handled revolver from a shoulder holster he had concealed beneath his coat. Eliot did not let him bring it to bear. A hard swing from Eliot’s billy club knocked the pistol from Al’s hand possibly breaking some fingers in the process.
The older man was faster and tougher than he looked. Pushing Eliot back with both his arms he dropped to one knee. Eliot paused thinking he had done some damage. He realized his mistake quickly though when Al produced a straight razor from his right sock. He was back on his feet swinging the blade in wide arcs before Eliot could strike him again.
Eliot now on the defense backed away. He swu
ng the club at Al’s head. His head snapped back and his eyes lost focus. Al’s knees went limp and he hit the ground.
Moving on instinct and adrenaline Eliot gathered up Al’s lost revolver. He checked the cylinders to make sure it was ready for business and pointed it at the old mobster.
Al recovered. He sat up on his knees. When Eliot cocked the pistol he froze.
“You were always sneaky.” Al said as he squeezed blood out of his nose. “Even back in Chicago. Couldn’t win in the streets. Got me with taxes. Now this. You see now that I can be sneaky, too.”
“Start talking Capone.”
“Set you up pretty good didn’t I? Was reading a lot after you and the accountants sent me away. Read about the Ripper in London. The cops could never catch him. Inspired me.”
“You can’t be Torso Al. You were in Alcatraz.” Eliot stuck his head back into the railcar.
“I got one of my old acquaintances from the five points to do the manual labor. Nasty individual. There’s still people in the burrows living hard. Never even see the light of day in some places of the Big Apple.”
“That’s where I started out you know. Left New York to come out west. Built things up real good in Chicago. Had the cops, the mayor and the mob working together. That’s cooperation. Should a put me in charge of the League of Nations. Wouldn’t had to have no sequel to the Great War with me in charge.” Al got to his feet and faced Eliot. “Then you and your G-men had to ruin it all!”
“I kept track of you though.” Al continued. “When I heard you were heading to Cleveland to work more of your reformer nonsense I came up with my plan. Nobody could stop the Ripper in London and you were no match for the Torso in Cleveland. Didn’t get to enjoy watching you crash. J. Edgar figured out that I was still running things from inside the pin in Atlanta. Shipped me off to the Rock.”
Eliot shook his head. None of this was easy to digest.
“Now here we are. Two dinosaurs. Has-beens with one good fight left in us. The street thug and the college boy in a battle to the death. This was the way it was meant to be. What do you say Ness?” Torso whistled. “Tell me you don’t feel it!”
“Shut up Capone. Just shut up!” Eliot was angry now. It was a good replacement for the dread he had been feeling ever since he got the letter. Eliot was starting to feel whole again. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to give me answers or so help me you won’t have to worry about the electric chair.”