Clip Joint

by Debra Dunbar

  The other man nodded.

  With a sigh, DeBarre hoisted the case onto the desk, nearly knocking over the inkwell. Inside the case sat several stacks of U.S. dollars. The down pincher pulled a tied bundle out of the case and offered it to Dominguez, who counted the stack. Ten hundreds was the final count. “There’s ten stacks,” he said. “We’ll wait if you want to thumb through them all.”

  Dominguez stared at him for a long moment, then tossed the cash into the case. “That will not be necessary. I apologize for the insinuation.”

  “No sweat. However, there is one more item we’d like to arrange, since we have you here.”

  Dominguez lifted his chin with a weary sigh. “Yes?”

  DeBarre took a seat. “Once the ownership of asset Eleven-One has been officially signed to Salvatore Sabella of Philadelphia, we’d like to go ahead and draw up a transfer of ownership to Vito Corbi and the Baltimore Crew.”

  Dominguez’s mouth dropped, clearly stunned by the request.

  DeBarre nodded. “You heard me, and we’re on a schedule. We wish to hand him over to Corbi. All legal. All legit. Paperwork in hand. No questions as to the authenticity. I figure your John Hancock will do nicely in a pinch.” DeBarre chuckled. “So to speak.”

  Dominguez shook his head slowly. “What possessed you to bid ten thousand dollars on an asset, only to hand it over to your rivals?”

  “Consider it an investment,” DeBarre replied. “The New York families have clearly leveraged Ithaca toward their interests, going so far as to arrange restricted auctions that literally no one outside of New York can attend. And if it should come to light that Lucky Luciano has an inside route to the top talent in Ithaca by way of that…his name was Sebastian?”

  Dominguez’s eyes tightened.

  The down pincher leaned forward. “But I sincerely doubt you’d want that sort of thing to come to light.”

  Dominguez sucked in several breaths, then reached for his desk. “Fine. We shall consider your discretion in this matter to be part and parcel to the bid price.”

  DeBarre clapped his hands. “Excellent. See, Vincent? We’re all reasonable businessmen here.”

  Vincent hid a scowl. Not only was Ithaca a money mill, it had rigged the game from the inside. More to the point, Luciano had rigged the game. And from what Floresta had told Vincent, the fight was far from over.

  As Dominguez offloaded the case of cash into his lockbox, DeBarre busied himself with his gold pocket watch. He’d popped it open to set the time, then gave it a few twists.

  When the lid to the lock box slammed shut, DeBarre set the stem into the watch and pocketed it with a labored breath. “Well, then. The documentation?”

  Dominguez took a few minutes to write two bills of sale, then waxed and sealed each. Handing them over, he muttered, “That should satisfy anyone with a grievance.”

  “Very good.” DeBarre stood and offered a hand. “Pleasure doing business with Ithaca.”

  Dominguez did not shake his hand. Instead, he watched them with sizzling intensity as the two withdrew from the office.

  Outside, there was no sign of Sebastian, only the recreational element of the gathering, now well soused in gin and bourbon and blustering loudly at how much they loved this sort of event.

  DeBarre motioned for his valet, who rushed out the door to get the car started. He lifted the case for Vincent.

  “Be a dear and do the heavy lifting for me.”

  Vincent rolled his eyes as he took the empty case, holding it in one hand as he cradled the sleeping kitten in the crook of his other arm.

  They made it through the doors without delay. The valet brought a late model Ford around and trotted around to open the front door. Vincent paused for the down pincher to take the front seat.

  The down pincher shook his head, taking the case from Vincent to hand it to the valet. “I’m in back with the important cargo.”

  Both Vincent and DeBarre climbed into the back seat of the car. In a minute, they were off. Once they had cleared the grounds, Vincent released a long exhalation. Those same snow-covered hills rolled past the window, and he felt no pangs of nostalgia. Escape was at hand.

  The valet removed his hat. Or rather, her hat. Long flowing reddish-brown hair spilled over her shoulders. She reached under the seat to pull a cigarette case from the floor boards and called back to him, “You smoke, Calendo?”

  He shook his head. DeBarre was eyeing him with a disturbing intensity, his face filled with emotion. It was enough to put a hook of disquiet into Vincent’s guts.

  “You okay?” Vincent asked. “I mean…did we do okay? This was the plan, right? Hattie’s plan. Where is she?”

  The driver laughed. “Oh, Jesus. You’re just a little too good at this. You know that?”

  “Good at what?” Vincent shook his head at her.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Valentino.” She laughed.

  Vincent turned to find DeBarre pulling the necktie free of his throat. He unbuttoned the tie and dislodged the tie pin which held it fast. It was a brilliant thing, a blue and green glass peacock set in brass. As the pin came free of the fabric, the energy in the vehicle took a sideways turn. Vincent blinked rapidly as DeBarre’s face blurred, shifting, changing.

  “Aye, it helps when you have a cheat,” Hattie replied from where DeBarre was just sitting.

  Chapter 25

  Vincent drew back in alarm, sucking in several breaths. “Wh…what?”

  Hattie tried to smile, but her mouth wobbled. “I can’t believe I pulled that off. Seriously thought I might wind up dead a few times back there, boy-o.”

  Vincent stammered for a second. “H…how? Your illusion. I couldn’t see through it.”

  “It wasn’t my illusion.” She lifted the peacock pin to examine it. “Not entirely. It was enough, though.” Then she reached for his hand, gripping it tight.

  Vincent stared for a while, his brain turning over and over. “You had DeBarre down pat. His mannerisms, the way he walks, his speech patterns…there was only once when I noticed something off.”

  She cocked her head a little. “I’ve been paying attention, taking note of everything and everybody. Paying attention to the details…a time pincher I know taught me that.”

  “How did you hold it up for so long?”

  She brandished the peacock pin. “This helped. So did the suit.” She ran a hand over the jacket and waistcoat she was wearing. Being able to focus strictly on her face, height and voice helped keep the magical cost down.

  “You had me fooled.” He shook his head. “Hattie, this was brilliant. The invitation—and I’ve no idea how you managed that—bidding on me at the auction, the transfer to Baltimore… When that shapeshifter told me you had a plan, I was seriously worried you were going to come racing in with an illusionary army of Feds or bombs or something and we’d be on the run the rest of our lives.”

  Hattie smirked. “I’ll admit that was my first impulse. Everyone told me to wait, that you’d be back in a few weeks, but I went ahead and found out as much as I could about your sick little mobster world, Ithaca, the way pinchers are bought and sold. I wanted to be prepared to make a move if it looked like those monsters were going to pull a fast one.”

  The car swung around a corner, catching on some ice. Sadie reached over to steady the case on the front bench beside her.

  “Ten thousand dollars?” Vincent shook his head. “What did you do, rob a bank?”

  “No, I robbed Ithaca,” she replied cheerfully.

  He nodded to the case. “That’s not empty is it? Is that…all of it?”

  “Aye. Every dollar.”

  “How?”

  Sadie grinned over her shoulder. “He likes that word, doesn’t he?”

  “I’m sorry,” Vincent replied through a half-scowl. “Who are you?”

  “Oh,” Hattie blurted. “Sadie, this is Vincent. Vincent, Sadie.”

  Sadie sighed. “Wish you wouldn’t tell these people my name. I don’t want it
getting around.”

  “You can trust him,” Hattie replied.

  “I don’t care who he is to you, Malloy. Bright Soul or no. He’s still a goon, and he keeps clear of my people. You hear?”

  Hattie closed her eyes and lifted fingers to rub the sides of her face. “I hear you.”

  Vincent looked back to Hattie. “The cash?”

  “Right. Ten thousand. Pretty penny, don’t you think?”

  “How’d you raise that much green originally?” he prodded.

  “I borrowed it.”

  “From DeBarre?”

  Hattie smiled. “No. Beer’s good money from the sound of’t, but not that good.”

  “Where, then?”

  “I told you, I robbed Ithaca.”

  Vincent squinted. “Come again?”

  “Those flop-sweated penguins brought plenty of cash for pinchers. I liberated their cash when they were forking it over to that old buzzard.”

  “I’m not going to say the word again,” Vincent said with a smirk toward Sadie. “Because I know your friend hates hearing me repeat myself.”

  “You want to know how I stole the cash. It’s a fine question, and the answer is simple.” She reached into the suit jacket to pull the gold pocket watch.

  “Another one of your cheats?” Vincent asked.

  “Enchanted with time magic.” She smiled over at him. “I’d originally got it for a different purpose, but it worked out well for this one. Think it’s about spent though. The man who sold it to me said it didn’t have much left in it.”

  Vincent shook his head in disbelief. “Where did you find these thingamajigs?”

  “I made a friend.”

  “You gotta introduce me.”

  Sadie scowled. “That would be a terrible idea, if you asked me. Not that either of you have.”

  Vincent chuckled and leaned back, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

  “What, did you really think I’d leave you to rot in that vile place? Think I’d let you get sold to a goon in New York to die fighting in their stupid war?”

  “I didn’t expect you to drive all the way to New York with some talismans and a three-piece suit. That’s for sure.”

  “We’re not actually in New York.”

  Vincent opened his eyes. “What?”

  “Ithaca, as it turns out, is not in Ithaca.”

  “Jesus. Even the name’s a lie.” He reached into his pocket to produce the chess piece. “Oh, and thank you for this, too.”

  A blush heated Hattie’s cheeks. “You like that, do you?”

  He shot her a cocky grin that had her catching her breath. It was so Vincent. It made her realize that in spite of everything he’d gone through, he was still the same man.

  “It’s my new good luck charm. I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything. There wasn’t much in Ithaca shopping-wise.”

  She laughed. “It’s fine. I got what I wanted already.” She reached out to touch his arm.

  He rolled the ebony knight in his palm. “I can’t believe you remembered this. It’s nicer than the one I had.”

  “You should buy a whole set and learn to play once we’re back.”

  “You’ll teach me?”

  “I’m not that good, but I can show you the basics. I’ll bet Lefty knows how to play.” She reached for his arm again. “Are you okay? I don’t know what that place did to you. My imagination’s cooked up some toe-curling thoughts, that’s for certain.”

  He grimaced. “Give me a week, and maybe some coffee. And a bath. Sweet Christ, a nice hot bath.”

  She didn’t have time to reply as Sadie slammed onto the brakes, spinning the car sliding sideways. The backend came around, clipping a rural mail box and sending it flying, and splintering the post. The car rocked as it came to an abrupt stop.

  Hattie caught herself against the front seat, peering over the leather to spot a figure standing in the center of the lone road leading out of the farm. Behind the figure a truck blocked the road.

  Was it an accident? Someone with mechanical trouble? Hattie’s heart sank as she realized the truck was carefully positioned as a roadblock, and that the person standing in front of the vehicle with her fists on her hips was a woman.

  “Who the bloody hell is that?” Hattie muttered.

  “Gertha.” Vincent’s voice was full of dread.

  “Can we drive around?” Hattie asked.

  “No, she’s blocked the damned road,” Sadie told her.

  “We can’t leave. Not until we know what she knows,” Vincent replied. “If we leave, and she spills the beans, it’s all for nothing.”

  “What do we do, then?” Hattie asked.

  He sighed, his shoulders straightening. Suddenly he had his gangster expression on, that cold, confident, focused expression he got when he was going into battle. It frightened her a bit to see him like this. But it also made her feel safe. Vincent would always make the difficult choices, he’d always risk himself physically, emotionally, and even ethically to protect his family.

  And one thing that that had become clear to her was that she was his family.

  “Leave this to me,” Vincent put the kitten carefully on the seat, then opened his door to step out onto the icy sludge of the lane.

  Hattie watched him as he navigated his way toward the tall, muscular woman. The blonde’s eyes were impassive, her face stony. This was no ordinary woman. She was as mechanical as the vehicle they sat in.

  Vincent stopped several paces away from her. She didn’t say a word even as Vincent made some long, probably inspired speech. No response. Not a word.

  “Hell with this,” Hattie grumbled. She slipped the peacock pin back onto the tie and pinched light around her face. The tug of magic was minimal, and it was relatively easy to mimic a man she’d spent several afternoons sipping booze with, and perhaps even imagining more when that booze hit her brain. But at this moment, her mission was to play a role and get them the hell out of there.

  Hattie opened her door and stepped out onto the road. “Do we have a problem?”

  The woman turned her head to face Hattie, her eyes growing hard.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked in a heavy accent Hattie couldn’t place.

  “I’m the one who just dropped serious gee on this asset,” Hattie replied with as much swagger as she could summon. “And I’m in a hurry to get home with him. So, if you don’t mind…”

  The woman sniffed at Hattie, the motion sending her face into a hawk-like visage of disapproval.

  “You lie,” the woman said simply.

  “I beg your Goddamn pardon?” Hattie replied with a stab at DeBarre’s salty self-importance.

  Vincent stood stiff, his eyes growing narrow. It was a cautious look, one of warning. This woman must have been made of stern stuff indeed for Vincent to be so vigilant around her.

  The woman turned fully to face Hattie. “You are no buyer. You are a woman.”

  Hattie held a breath.

  What?

  She checked the flow of magic washing over her face. It was intact, there was no question about it. As was the peacock pin stabbing through her necktie.

  She turned to Vincent. “No. You cheat, so you go back.”

  “I’m not going back,” he stated flatly. “And neither are you.”

  Hattie made one more check over her illusion. It still felt fine. Robust, even. How was this woman able to pierce it?

  Gertha sneered. “And you will stop me?”

  Vincent nodded. “If I must, I will.”

  “Vincent. Let’s just go,” Hattie urged

  “We can’t let her blow the whistle.”

  “It’s her word against ours. Ithaca isn’t going to make themselves look the fool by letting out that they were had, and Corbi will be too busy frothing at the mouth over New York trying to steal his pincher to care.” Hattie told him. “Let’s just leave. Now.”

  Vincent nodded, then pinched time. Hattie felt the winter breeze fall to a muddled roa
r before falling silent. The light glinted off the frozen ice pack along the ridges of snow drifts in the prismatic manner that a time pinch could muster. The countryside transformed into a landscape of pure magic, and Vincent turning to Hattie with a nod.

  Gertha stepped forward and landed a punch in his kidneys that dropped the man to his knees. Twisting through the time-thickened air, Vincent just missed getting kicked.

  The time pinch dropped immediately, likely from some sort of reflex on his part. Hattie caught her breath and reached out with as much magic as she could muster, waving a hand in front of her face while muttering the word, “Disappear!”

  The light angled around Hattie and Vincent. She could feel it, as well as the increased load on her magical reserves. The illusion went off but this woman stepped forward, staring directly at Vincent.

  “Get up,” she said, making full eye contact with Vincent.

  Hattie shook her head in confusion. The load tugged at her guts, and the peacock pin at her chest began to heat up.

  She dropped the illusion, baffled at this strange woman before her.

  Vincent stood and reached for his jacket, unbuttoning it, sliding it off his shoulders and casting it aside onto the nearest snow bank. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way, then.”

  “Vincent!” Hattie pleaded.

  He lifted a hand to her. “No way around this.”

  The statement bore a strange gravity, a resigned inevitability that sent chills down Hattie’s neck.

  Footsteps approached behind Hattie. She looked over her shoulder at Sadie. “How is she doing this? Vincent. Me. None of our magic works. Not even the talisman.”

  “She’s a Null.”

  Hattie took a step back, nearly into Sadie. Of course. That made perfect sense in a place like this. If one were to torture pinchers for a living, even under the effects of some water pincher’s power-sapping elixir, you would want the practitioners of pain to be immune to their retribution.

  “Shit,” Hattie muttered.

  Vincent rolled up his sleeves and stretched his shoulders with a few wide swings of his arms. Gertha followed suit, the two circling one another in a dance of pit fighters. Vincent’s right foot slid a bit on the road slush, but he maintained his focus. Gertha threw a lightning-fast jab, which Vincent barely ducked, her knuckles skimming his ear.