Fixed Fight (Mike Chance series Book 2) Read online

  “How much time we got?” Benny sat up in his seat.

  “Hopefully time enough for me to eat.”

  “You’re being pretty cavalier about this.” Benny shifted uncomfortably. The quiet made him nervous.

  “I don’t know what that word means.” Mike shrugged.

  Lo appeared and dropped a plate in front of Mike. “It means to be unconcerned.” The cook sneered at Mike.

  Mike shifted in his seat. He was losing his sense of humor. Benny checked him with a hand on his hand. Mike didn’t like that. He moved his hand right away, but it settled him. He got to work on his food. Lo went back to the sink.

  “It feels like trouble.” Benny stood up.

  Mike ate fast. He shoveled food into his mouth. He came up for breath long enough to say. “You shoulda seen this coming.”

  “Who says I didn’t?” Benny nodded at Lo.

  Lo moved to a cabinet near the back of the kitchen and yanked it open. As he reached in, an explosion rocked the front of the building. The screams of the waitresses followed right behind the blast. One of them ran past Mike through the kitchen and into the back room. She reappeared almost immediately carrying a bucket that sloshed water.

  Mike didn’t get up from the table. He took another bite of his breakfast. A firebomb had crashed into the front of the saloon and spilled its contents through a crack under the door. Flames carpeted the place and licked at the heels of a waitress that lay unconscious under the front window.

  The waitress with the bucket tossed water on the fire and squelched it, then she grabbed the other girl and dragged her into the kitchen. Another fire bomb slammed against the bar, but this one bounced off and shattered on the porch. Then another hit and more fire snuck in under the door. It fizzled out. The floor was still damp.

  Mike finished his eggs and got up from the table. He hurried across the room to the front window. He ducked lower and lower as he got closer until he was level with the bottom of the frame. He peeked outside. In the darkness, he could make out a couple of shadowy figures. They had potato sacks over their heads with rough cut gashes for eyeholes. A third guy hadn’t bothered with a mask. He had a torch going with a big wild flame. His two companions held Molotov cocktails out for him to light and he lit them with his torch. His smile was maniacal.

  Mike scurried along the front wall toward the door. He whipped the Red 9 out as he moved. With three bullets he could end this quick, so he kicked the front door open. As it swung wide, Mike glimpsed a fourth guy with a Tommy gun strapped over his shoulder. He stood square to the saloon with his legs spread apart. Mike didn’t try to get off a shot. Instead he threw himself to the floor. He was just in time.

  The machine gun shattered glass and pockmarked the front of the place. Two more Molotovs hit amid the bullets and exploded against the front window. Flames spread over the floor and up the walls and licked at the ceiling. Mike stayed down. He could see Benny crawling across the floor toward him. The little guy had a Tommy gun of his own. It looked well oiled and polished.

  Benny shouted over the gunfire. “You all right?”

  “I hope you’ve got insurance.” Mike yelled.

  “This is my insurance.” Benny popped up with the Tommy gun and unloaded. His targets were overconfident and standing out in the open. Benny dropped the one with the Tommy gun first. Benny knew his business. He got a second guy as an afterthought.

  Mike got up as Benny lay down cover fire and ran for the front door. He burst through it and stood on the burning porch. From there, he shot the man with the torch in the back as he ran away. Then Mike charged out looking for the last man, but he had disappeared.

  Mike took cover in a shadowy spot between an old Ford and a California pepper tree. He listened close until he heard the faint flap of hard solid boots on concrete in front of him to his left. Mike readied the Red 9 and crept after the footsteps.

  He made his way slowly. He checked behind cars and under them and up and down between them. He didn’t see a thing and he didn’t hear any more footsteps. Mike figured the guy was somewhere nearby in the parking lot, maybe hiding in his car. Mike kept searching. Somehow his quarry got the drop on him. The fellow crept up behind him with a Molotov cocktails and swung it at him. Mike sensed the blow and ducked to the side at the last second. The man missed his clear shot and the bottle shattered against Mike’s back. Gas spilled all over him, but Mike stayed on his feet.

  The man turned and ran. He fled back toward Benny’s bar and down the narrow alleyway next to it. Mike recovered and stumbled after him. By now there were sirens in the distance, but the firefighters would be too late. Benny and his Chinese had already put out the fire.

  Mike followed the man behind the bar to the alley. He could see the man sprinting ahead of him. When the man was about to turn the corner, Mike raised the Red 9 and fired until it clicked empty. The man almost got away, but two bullets caught him at the last second.

  Mike jogged down the alley to where the man lay face down in the gutter. Mike bent down to check the man’s pockets. The man was playing possum. He moved quickly, rolled over, struck a match, and tossed it at Mike. It landed on his jacket where the gas from the bottle had soaked in and Mike went up in flames.

  He dropped and rolled into a puddle of filthy water. That put out the fire, but when Mike got back on his feet, his victim was gone. Mike scoured around and spotted a trail of blood. He followed it a short distance up the street to an old black Ford. The car’s engine rumbled and scratched, but didn’t start.

  Mike jogged toward the car. The sirens were getting louder and Mike knew he didn’t have much time. He got to the driver’s side and peered into the dark interior of the car. The man slumped behind the wheel with blood pouring from his chest. He turned the key over and over, but the engine didn’t spark. Mike leaned in the window. The man whimpered, pale from blood loss. He turned the key one more time. The engine finally started up, but Mike reached into the car and shut it off and took away the key.

  The man behind the wheel didn’t resist, so Mike left him alone and went to the trunk. He opened it with the key and found a couple of leaking cans of Kerosene rolling around inside. He grabbed one of them. It was empty, so he tossed it aside and grabbed a second. It was almost full. Mike took it out of the trunk and opened it. He poured it over the car as he walked back to the driver. When he got there, he dumped the last of the gas on the man behind the wheel.

  “I’m gonna kill you.” The man mustered some last words.

  “Not likely pal.” Mike answered, then he struck a match and tossed it in the window. Fire flashed up. Mike wanted to stick around and watch, but the sirens had arrived. Mike fled down the alley. As he rounded the corner, the car exploded behind him.

  Mike circled back to the bar at a leisurely pace and sat in the shadows across the street where he could watch Benny deal with the authorities. Curious cops and fireman mingled around for hours talking to the little guy. Mike was too far away to hear what was being said, but he could tell from Benny’s body language that his partner was doing some convincing. Mike enjoyed the show. So did the boys in uniform. By the end of it, they were really yukking it up.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shortly after dawn, the last of the firemen piled into their city machines and pulled away. When they vanished around the corner, Mike came out of his hiding place and trotted across the street. Benny met him at the edge of the parking lot and they fell in together, walking away from Benny’s place, and leaving the Chinese behind to pick up the pieces.

  A few blocks away from the saloon, Benny started trying doors on cars parked along the curb. He hit paydirt with an old La Salle. It had dents in its side panels and its back window was cracked, but the front door was unlocked so they took it. Benny slid behind the wheel. Mike walked around to the passenger side, keeping his eyes open as he did. That was unnecessary, it was early and the streets were deserted.

  When Mike got in the car, he caught sight of Benny’s hands. They were r
esting on top of the wheel and they were blackened from the fire. Benny tried wiping them on his shirt, but the shirt just got filthy and the hands stayed unclean. After a second, Benny gave up and turned his mind to driving.

  When they got up to speed, Mike started talking. “You get through it all right?”

  “Yeah. My hands are fine. Lo’s good too. Lee got hurt though.”

  “Which one’s Lee?”

  “She’s the one that makes the old-fashioneds.” Benny took a hard right and sped toward downtown. He drove fast, taking his frustrations out on the road.

  Mike sat back. “Those old-fashioneds are damn good.”

  “I know. Lo’s gonna take her back to Chinatown to get the bullet taken out, then they’re comin’ right back. Lo and I decided that tonight, we’re gonna open.” Benny was banging on the steering wheel, almost yelling. “No one’s taking my place, Mike. I want you to get these yokels. Get them good.”

  “I’m gonna get’em, all right. I’m gonna reach out and touch’em.”

  Benny steered off Wilshire and down an alley away from traffic. He took back streets all the way downtown to the hotel. When they got with a few blocks, they pulled over and ditched the car. When they got out, the car kept rolling slowly until it stopped itself against the curb. Benny had forgotten to set the parking brake.

  The brisk walk to the hotel was all heads down and focus. Their soot blackened clothes were a dead giveaway, but no cops crossed their path as they made their way to the Richelieu’s back entrance. They found Mitchell there waiting and smoking. Lo had called him and let him know they were on their way.

  “You boys gonna look worse every time I see ya?” Mitchell’s grin was shit-eating.

  Mike and Benny didn’t answer. They stood there waiting.

  “All right, let’s go. Your Chinese sent over the clothes for you.” Mitchell unlocked the back door and showed them the way to the back stairs. Mike and Benny left him and went up. Mitchell back to the lobby and kept watch.

  Mike and Benny went to Mike’s room. They sat down in the big chairs by the windows and smoked cigarettes in the dim light of dawn. Not a word passed between them and eventually they fell asleep and stayed that way until the sun went down.

  A steady knocking on the door woke them up. It was a bellboy sent up by Mitchell and they knew this because he yelled it through the door repeatedly and at high volume. He would not let up and they were glad he didn’t. When Mike finally opened the door, the kid rolled in a cart set with two full breakfasts and fresh coffee. He parked it at the foot of the bed and left without accepting a tip.

  Mike and Benny stood over the cart and ate hand over fist. When they were done, they showered one after the other and put on their tuxedos. It was night by the time they left the room. Their timing was perfect and they met up with Mitchell at the top of the stairs. He looked good in his vested tuxedo, but he was nervous. He jingled his left hand like he had change in it.

  “I got the call. They’ll be there tonight.” Mitchell said.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be easy night.” Benny reassured Mitchell.

  Mitchell chuckled and tried a joke. “Too bad we don’t really know how the fight’ll turn out.”

  “You got the boodle?” Mike got to the point. He could barely tolerate the house dick’s chatter.

  “Relax, pal, it’s in the car.” Mitchell forget himself with his tone, at least until the last word. He swallowed that one.

  “Relax.” Benny stepped between them, but his focus was on Mike.

  Mike didn’t need the intervention. He pushed past them and headed downstairs. Mitchell and Benny fell in line behind him.

  Outside on the sidewalk, Mitchell had a Cadillac waiting with the motor running. A valet stood at the driver’s side door. Mitchell didn’t tip him when he got behind the wheel and the way the kid slammed the door made clear it wasn’t the first time Mitchell had left him empty handed. Benny slid in front after Mitchell and Mike got in back, making sure he sat where Mitchell couldn’t see him. Mike enjoyed keeping him nervous.

  They drove to the pier in silence. By the time they got to there, there was already a mob of tuxedos, mingling and drinking and waiting for the boats to leave. Mike pushed a path through the crowd for Benny and Mitchell. There was a stairway down from the pier to the platform where the water-taxis docked. Mike led them down it.

  At the bottom of the stairs, an old sailor manned a metal gate and kept the people back until the boat had docked. When the boat appeared on the horizon, the crowd started pushing against the gate. Mike had to fight harder to get through them, but once he got there, they didn’t have to wait. The old sailor recognized Benny as soon as he saw him and opened the gate for them before the water taxi was secured to the pier.

  Mike and Benny and Mitchell climbed on board and took the warm dry seats near the front. The rest of the boat filled up quickly as soon as the old man opened the gate to the regular customers. When the boat got under way, it was full and low in the water and laboring against the surf.

  The trip took some time, but was uneventful and Benny didn’t get sick. This time, when they docked at the Rex, they came on board at night and they came on classy. There were no thuggish pat downs and Mike got on board with the Red 9 and Mitchell got on board with the boodle.

  Because it was night time, the Rex was on its best behavior. The lights were bright and the servants were shiny and smartly dressed. Even the worst of the trouble boys had suits on, although some glowered like beat dogs. Benny led them to the casino. He moved like he was in a hurry, but Mike stayed right behind him as they cut around the tables and through the crowd.

  The dealers and croupiers knew Benny and liked him. The pit boss knew him too, but he didn’t like him. Mike could tell that from the look on the man’s face when Benny sidled up to him. Mitchell kept his distance as soon as they walked in. He stayed at a table near the back wall and kept to himself. The boodle in his pocket made him nervous.

  They would see the mark tonight, but only Mitchell would talk to him. The mark would be there with the front man. His name was Frisby and he was a piece of work with a solid reputation. Benny had been eager to throw in with him. The mark would look on as Mitchell handed Frisby the boodle as if he had won it on a crooked fight. It was part of getting him primed for the show.

  Mitchell would point Benny and Mike out to the mark and lay some foundation. All along, Mitchell would assure the mark that there would be another fight and the next one would be crooked too. The mark would want a piece of that action.

  Benny stopped at a craps table and bet light until it came his turn for the dice, then he went heavy. He rolled well and made a nice run, but Mike didn’t let him play after he passed the dice. The fight would be starting on time. Tino ran a tight ship and the crowd started to filter out of the casino like clockwork. Mike and Benny slid in with a rowdy group and headed down to the gym.

  When they got ringside, Mike had to give Tino a tip of the hat. He could tell Benny felt the same. The water had been mopped up and the leaks patched for fight night. The place was lively and the crowd was red-faced and loud. The bleachers trembled under the weight of them. The atmosphere was so electric, the floor sagged a little under the weight of it.

  The Kid emerged from a passageway to a roar. His opponent came out on the opposite side. He got jeers. He was bigger and more muscled than the Kid. He was a real bruiser, but Mike could tell he was nervous. Mike had been in a lot of fights. He could judge men by more than their size. By the time the fighters were in the ring, Mike knew the fight was the Kid’s to lose. Mike fingered the bankroll in his pocket. He wished he had put money on it.

  The bell snapped Mike out of it. The two fighters charged from their corners and met toe to toe in the middle of the ring. The Kid took some heavy hits to prove right away that he could. His opponent stepped back flustered. Mike figured the fellow would be done in a round or so. The crowd clued in as much as Mike and their enthusiasm ebbed and they started to c
hatter.

  The fight ended in the third round. The Kid put a stop to it. He spent two rounds knocking the bruiser around for fun, then got bored with him and put his lights out in the third. As the crowd headed for the exit, Mike saw Mitchell for the first time since the casino. The hotel dick stood with a tall thin man in a tight fitting suit and a pale greedy-eyed short doughy fellow who had to be the mark. The tall man had to be Frisby. He was smooth and professional as he herded the doughy fellow toward Mitchell.

  Frisby introduced Mitchell to the mark and they all shook hands. Then Mitchell handed over the boodle to Frisby. He flashed it good on the hand off so the mark could see it. Mike liked the way the mark’s face lit up. Benny noticed that too. They had him hooked.

  After the hand-off, Benny made a beeline for the casino. Mike had to cut him off. There was no way he was going to let Benny lose all their money to Tino before they even made it. He grabbed Benny by the arm and herded him down the gangway to the water-taxi. The sea was calm on the way back, but Benny didn’t make the trip clean. He spent the last half of it throwing up over the side and, when they got to the pier, Mike had to help him disembark.

  Benny and Mike spent the rest of the night in a bungalow on the bluff that overlooked Santa Monica Bay. They found the place by chance after walking away from the pier in search of another car. A short distance up the hill, they came to a mailbox that was stuffed to overflowing. The house it belonged to was dark, no lights. Benny went around back while Mike sat on the curb and kept watch on the street. Mike heard the tinkle of broken glass and stood up a and went to the front door. Benny opened it and let him in as soon as he got there. They had perfect timing.

  Inside there was dust, whoever lived there had been gone a while. The accoutrements of his daily life suggested a sportsman with more money than skill. He had a wide variety of rackets, paddles, and clubs. Most were barely used. Benny headed into the bedroom and slept.

  Mike gave the place a once over. He got hold of the homeowner’s piggy bank and helped himself to three hundred and thirty six dollars. He also found the keys to a Chevy Master Deluxe, then fell asleep on the couch.