Welcome To Central City

by Adam C Mitchell

  Tinseltown. So are you listening now Tombstone?”

  The room went silent as she mocked him.

  But Grayson ignored the mock. He sat and thought, massaging his massive knuckles until each one cracked. The Razorbacks had paid a lot out for the protection Banner offered and he never thought that anything other than God himself could stop the whole machine. But it had. His own lawyer, said as long as he paid Banner's tribute of five hundred dollars a month, he and all his boys apart from the occasional sacrificial lamb would be safe from the law. That’s when Binky stumbled through the door. Allegra swore. “Binky?” Everyone else just stared blankly at him, not sure how to take this sudden entrance.

  “Morgan's coming for you Miss Renneti!” he choked. Allegra just smiled. “Where have you been Three-socks, my friend?”

  In halting, rasped bursts of explanation Binky told everyone in the room everything leaving out not one detail. He told them about how he was picked up, how he was made to watch the Parisian murdered and, eventually, his release. He told them about Kent and Stroller and about everyone else who was there. He poured out his guts about Kent's warrants and the safety deposit box and the bank rep. He told them everything chapter and verse. Allegra clicked her fingers and a well stocked brunette put Binky in a choke hold, her grip tightening every second he struggled.

  “You ratted Mr. Mason. You must have!” But Binky's protests of innocence did him no good. The dame snapped his neck like a matchstick. “He ratted. He deserved what he got. Next one who rats gets worse.” She stopped as a man ran through the door.

  “Cops,” he shouted. “A guy named Morgan says he's coning for you and Miss Renetti!”

  Tombs stood up.

  “There’s no God damn cop who can take me outta my place, you hear? Allegra you and your gal pals can hightail it out the back. Me and the boys got enough heat here to sort them. Now go, hun.” Allegra just smiled, slightly taken by the gesture, but she did not run from anything.

  “It's just two dumb flat-feet playing hero. I think we can all handle that, don't you?” She gestured to her brood of well dressed women. They lined up in a sporadic semi-circle, all facing the double doors out on to the street. Tombs took out his custom gun—some foreign number with the stopping power of a small cannon—cocked the chamber and slid it under the table. Allegra took out a small Walther and did the same, hiding it under her furs. Her delicate hand did not leave the guns small butt. The two crime lords waited in total silence.

  Suddenly, the harsh commanding voice of Captain Harry Morgan, came from the street. “I got warrants for every one of your sorry mugs,” came the unseen voice. “Come out with your hands in the air!”Allegra and Grayson exchanged glances as Grayson answered for the two of them.

  “Come in and take us, flat-foot!!”

  Part Six

  The doors swung open by an unseen force. Everyone tensed themselves and waited. Then came a strange sound that nobody inside knew, that of metal on metal. After a pause, thick red smoke filled the room. A dozen or more men came through the door, almost like the Roman legions of old. Not one of these dozen men was a cop. Instead, they were all men both Tombs and Renetti knew well, and all were handcuffed together in one solid mass, their backs to the middle. All their missing people were there including Banner, Collins and many more.

  In the middle of the cuffed circle were, Morgan Doakes, Booth and Costner, all with riot guns and Thompson's in their hands. The slightly drunk Booth had an itchy trigger finger. The bulk of flesh chained together was a human shield for Morgan’s cops.

  “Drop the guns, Tombs,” commanded Morgan coldly.

  “Don’t shoot! We will all be killed,” cried Collins visibly wetting himself stood next to Banner.

  Morgan and Doakes strode forward with definite purpose, prodding the human flesh fence ahead of them every step.

  “Come on, Tombs. Come on over and join the fun. You can even bring your date with you. We won’t mind! Honest!”

  Tombs looked around, taking in everything. “Don't move, you chumps,” he yelled. “I got enough heat in here to make a Texan have a wet dream. Come another inch and we’ll blast ya.”

  Doakes just mocked him. “Don't shoot, Tombstone for Christ sake, not when the state just bought new rope and cleaned the stocks for a hangin'! Be wise and put down the guns and like the good man said. Come out with your hands up. Just do it, as we are coming in either way.” The pair grimly advanced. Every crook was glued to the spot, uncertain on what to do next. Allegra had unwittingly cornered herself against a run-down orchestra dais. Tombs waited in front of a bass drum, and now had a crude machete in his hands that he'd retrieved from behind the bar. His pistol was stowed in his belt. The second that red smoke had hit the tavern, the group of colored musicians had wisely fled the sinking ship, leaving the stage and their instruments in their stands. Allegra tried guile. “You can't take us, Mr. Morgan. I don't know about my friend here, but I can’t be bluffed.”

  The human ring grew closer. Booth let out a taunting laugh.

  “Allegra, baby, I could kill you from here if I wanted, lassie, but lady Renneti, I want you alive. I want you to have an appointment with the wee noose. I want to enjoy a choice wee cigarette and a draft of Seagram's finest as I watch you dance on the gallows, and watch them open you up in the morgue. I want...”

  Tombs gave in first and, with a primal scream, signaled for his men to open up. In his primal rampage, he emptied his entire magazine. Half the circle dropped in a second. Still, the remains of the circle grew closer. It was then all hell broke loose.

  The chatter of sub-machine guns took over the small bar along with the cries of dying men. Costner dropped in bloody unison taking lead to the chest. Collins, from his position in the chained ring, had his head almost torn away by the stream of led as he fell across Morgan.

  But Doakes had time and a lucky shot and sent Tombs into eternity before Collins’ corpse pinned

  Morgan and him down. Both cops were still in this.

  The chaos in that small parlor ended as sharply as it began. No hot lead raining down or thunder of empty magazines. There was only the pained gurgling sobs and low, throaty profanities. Doakes’ voice filled the hall.

  “You all right, cap?”

  Morgan pushed the body of the decapitated Collins off him and lifted his head. He gave Collins’ head a kick with his heel as it barreled along the floor.

  The place was a war zone. He took a moment to glance at the doorway as Costner loomed in with a smoking shotgun in hand.

  Morgan, pulled himself up, leaning his weary body against an upturned table.

  Costner and Doakes walked over. Both men, despite being season vets of the war in Europe and on the streets of Central, were white as sheets.

  “Well, it happened according to plan, but we lost one. Booth is gone, poor shmuck. At least he went to the pearly gates with a gun in his hand and a double in his gut. And he took down Tombs. The mad paddy did good, I think,” Doakes said through gritted teeth. “I never want to go through that ever again though. Not as young as I used to be. Maybe a desk is calling.”

  Morgan shrugged. “Who you kidding, Sam? You love it and you'd miss it. If anything, we saved the state a lot of money. No need to buy so much rope now. We've really hit two birds with one stone there, lads.”

  Costner opened the barrel of the shot-gun. The spent cartridges fell to the floor, and he wiped his face with a bloody sleeve. “To be fair, our job was easy. Tombs’ lugs did most the work. Thompson’s have hair triggers. Christ, they took out more of their own than we did. I have to admit, that was nice of them, don't you think?” He walked over to the dais. Tombs was dead a volley of lead. He had split his guts over the stage, and his bowls had gone too. It wasn't pretty. Allegra was a different story. She was dead, more than dead. Her crimson dress was caped in her blood. Three craters had been made in her back. Her blood or what little she still had in her, poured out over the sticky floor. Her hair lay matted, soaking it u
p like a sponge. Her arrogant eyes, now lifeless and vague, stared off into the void.

  “Looks like Allegra was trying to run away,” Doakes said.

  Captain Morgan sighed. “I think the man in the sky had his guiding hand on us today, lads. It took a miracle to finish this like that.” There was a touch of reverence in his tone. He fought back a small sob.

  “Destiny, I think some would call it.”

  “How's that?” Costner wanted to know.

  “That's how the little kid got it,” grunted Morgan as he turned away, and they moved out the door to the sound of oncoming sirens.

  End.

  Epilogue

  Central City lay drenched in inches of rain, a result of the strange midsummer . Despite the rain it was still humid, a hot breeze from the docks lay its touch all over Castle Street, bringing tired mothers with babes in arms to doorways. The humidity causing babies to whimper and wake from their sleep. On Beckett Avenue, a few offices in horrid concrete and steel blazed in the misty rain. Brokers fiddled profit margins for shady clients or tried to guess how many points above 666, Drummond Export would be four weeks four today in the shady, mafia supported stocks. Lower East Central City was moiré commonly known as the Bowery where it teamed with sweat-bodied Negro’s all jostling for attention of anyone who would give it. A pimpled newsboy shouted his wares, exaggerating news stories and rearranging his small tabloid empire. Laid along the sodden curb, the tabloids held hostage from the breeze with beer bottle paperweights.

  A bohemian busker added his voice to the din with a warbled war time song, this with the metallic sounds from air-conditioned penny arcades, offering refuge from the heat and rain for the price of a hot dog with relish, penny peep-show and pinball game. Shooting galleries reminded a few passing veterans of things they wanted to forget, of friends lost and battles won. Bartender worked like machines, pouring streams of cool liquid over damp sticky bars, while the laughter of seductive women and hoped up men were joined by the sound of jukeboxes pounding out a melodic rhythm. Street cars clanged and horns blared as taxis snaked curbs narrowly avoiding Joe Walker on the street, leaving profanities in his wake. He was on the hunt for yet another fare, before dipping into the sea of traffic again. In Doakes Medical, a trio of specialists studied a case of leukaemia in a young five-year-old girl and wagged their heads over it, knowing it will be incurable and wondering when they could close the case and hit the golf course. In surgery a famed obstetrician finished a Caesarian and the new life was rushed to an incubator. It was people. It was sound and silence life and death it was kinship, for no matter what a man was doing that hot, wet night in Central there was another doing the exact same- and in some cases even murder. It would be just another story of life, love and betrayal that would sink into the soul of the city, where it would remain forever.

  That was Central City...

  What The Fans Said

  (The Lost Angel)

  It's hard not to love this fast-paced adventure that gives as good as it gets, packed full of twists and turns so intense that I had to stop to breath for a moment after each big reveal. I really loved the dynamic between Eddie and Kimmie, two fantastic characters who are very well developed and thought through. There is nothing that I dislike more than flat and un-dynamic characters, and Adam C Mitchell doesn't disappoint, especially with Jack Malone. He is the Private Investigator on their case after the theft, and his gritty charm is beautifully written. You can become completely lost in the world that Mitchell creates, and it is a world that I absolutely revelled in. I would highly recommend this crime thriller drama to anyone looking for a read that they simply cannot put down, even they wanted to!

  (Independent Author Emily Murdoch)

  First I have to say I love the cover. It really captures the genre! One of my favourite writers of all time is Raymond Chandler and before I even read his bio at the end of this book I knew he was a fan too. This is fast paced story, with relatable characters and it captures the time in which it is set beautifully. It is an homage in many ways to the genre and I credit Adam for his attention to detail and respect for the genre. My favourite quote: “Old before his time, this city can do that if you let it.

  (Independent Author Cathy McReader)

  The Lost Angel.... gripping crime story that got me hooked from page one, Adam's attention to detail is incredible. Eddy and Kim's story is intense but Jack has to be my favorite so if you fancy being thrown back into the 1940's right in the thick of gun fire and romance this novella is the one you want

  (K.A Online Reviews)

  Also Available on E-book

  (Central City Tales)

  Who can resist the premise of a book where the Private Investigator who finds a dead body on their office floor! I couldn't wait to see more of Jack Monroe, a character that I first met in the start of this series by Adam C Mitchell, and because I simply couldn't put that one down I knew that I needed to treat myself to the sequel. I really liked this way of telling stories, three different stories all in one book, and they were woven together in a way that I didn't understand completely at first, but by the end I could clearly see exactly what the clever author was doing. I particularly enjoyed the way that Mitchell wrote the dialogue, so fast paced and cleverly witty that I couldn't help but smirk every now and again! If you love your books to have some gritty real life in them, then this is the book series for you!

  (Independent Author Jane Risdon)

  Wow I sure didn't expect that ending! Started reading last night, could not put it down. Cool characters. Genre specific. Not predictable. What more can you ask? Loved it and can't wait to read the next one!

  (Independent Author Cathy McReader)

  Took me right back to those old films I watched as a teenager. Think Stacey Keach as Mike Hammer! I loved those novels by Mickey Spillane. While this isn't in that league, the writing is slick and the story good. It's absolutely loaded with cliches and I loved it. If you are looking for something different to read, this isn't a long book and Adam Mitchell conjures up some magical images in his description that will transport you straight there.

  (Independent Author Kazz Moss)

  Also Available on E-book

  (Chloe’s Justice)

  The Lost Angel gripped me from the very start! It was full of twists and turns that had me on the edge of my seat and the characters were lifelike and believably real. The author’s description of the buildings and the characters’ surroundings was so detailed that it made me feel like I was standing there watching the action. I’d recommend this book to anyone looking for a brilliant read.

  (Independent Author Stacey Margaret Allan)

  Mr. Mitchell details the Post World War II era with extreme detail while paying homage to the noir genre through the tough, dedicated to duty Captain Harry Morgan and his cohorts. Together this small band of former police officers move into action against a corrupt city with the same quick pace as Mr. Mitchell’s gutty writing style. If you enjoy a good old school crime story – this is the one for you!

  (Independent Author Jim Hart)

  This book was truly engaging! I loved the imagery. It was detailed enough to play the movie in my head while remaining concise enough to avoid rambling. I loved that the author stayed true to the era-related details and overall feel of the book. Last, but definitely not least, the story was a real page-turner, with some surprising plot twists! I am looking forward to reading Mr. Mitchell's other books very soon.

  (Independent Author Trish Rice)

  Also Available on E-book

  About the Author

  Adam is the writer of The Lost Angel, Central City Tales & Chloe’s Justice. He is also a contributor to several Independent Anthologies, all of which are available on Amazon Adam has been a fan of golden age Pulp and crime from the 1930’s and 1940’s era. It's because of his love of this genre, his novels follow the exploits of Jack Malone Private Investigator

  In 2015 Adam overcame a crippling case of Dyslexia as he was writing
his first novel. He now uses it as a platform to bring awareness about this learning disability. His aim is to deliver the message that it can be overcome, and it doesn't have to become an obstacle. He has proven that if you set yourself a goal, and you want it bad enough, you can overcome and succeed.