Valentino Will Die Page 17

  Baldy took the initiative and punched Oliver in the stomach. He doubled over, every molecule of air knocked out of his body, and struggled to draw breath before Baldy walloped him in the back of the head with the gun butt and knocked him senseless.

  ~ Bianca Calls out the Cavalry ~

  It is hard to make a stealthy escape from a crowded room when you’re famous. Bianca was accosted in a dozen ways as she hurried through the casino on her way to find Fairbanks. Several people called her name, and a few asked for autographs. People in the business wanted to talk to her. Twice she felt a hand pat her on the behind and someone tugged at her skirt as she passed a table. She ignored them all.

  She gathered up her long skirt in one hand and skipped down the stairs, bursting onto the lower deck with such an agitated look on her face that when Fairbanks caught sight of her, he stood up from the table where he sat with Donahue, concerned. “What’s wrong, Missy?”

  The two men had made short work of the bottle of Canadian whiskey the waiter had brought them, and Bianca noticed that Fairbanks was a little tipsy. Still, he was in better shape than Donahue, who was passed out cold with his head on the table.

  “Doug, it was Cornero! Cornero had Rudy killed.” She gripped Fairbanks’s arm, excited.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She leaned in to stage-whisper in his ear. “Remember how I told you that both Barclay Warburton and Jean Acker said that the imposter magician who poisoned Rudy had two different-colored eyes? Well, I just saw him. He works for Cornero! He’s upstairs in the casino right now. Come on, come on!”

  “Wait a minute, little lady. What do you think we are going to do about it right now, right here on Cornero’s ship? We need to get out of here. There should be a water taxi leaving for shore in a few minutes. We have to go to the police or the feds.”

  Bianca was practically jumping up and down with impatience. “No, no, I know that. But first we have to help Oliver. Cornero and his hatchet man cornered him in the casino. I was able to follow them out onto the deck. It’s dark and they didn’t see me, so I hid beside a lifeboat and overheard them questioning him. Cornero knows that Oliver works for Dix. They smacked him in the head and dragged him off to the boiler room. Come on, Doug, I talked him into working for me on the sly. I can’t let Cornero hurt him!”

  Fairbanks covered his eyes with one hand. This is what happens when people mix you up with the parts you play, he thought. He dropped his hand and emitted a sigh. “Aw, shit. Well, come on then, let’s try to rescue your boy.”

  ~ Cornero Puts the Screws On ~

  It was impossible to know how much time had passed before Oliver began to swim back to consciousness, if one could call the images that drifted in and out of his awareness “consciousness.” A sensation of movement, a rough surface under him. Was he being dragged across a floor? Wait, he had been on a boat. The deck? Then there was nothing but darkness for who knew how long, which finally gave way to the smell of something nauseating, like dead fish or rotting seaweed. Someone was saying something. In English, he thought, but his brain couldn’t yet decipher what the words meant. A burst of pain in his head caused a lightning show of bright colors before his eyes as he was jerked up into a sitting position, and then more darkness.

  With a mighty act of will, he tried to gain control of his muscles, but it was no use. His hands were immobilized behind his back. He was leaning against a narrow, metal object. He gulped in a lungful of fetid air, and his vision cleared enough for him to see that he was in a large, dark space. It was hot. It was noisy, a continual pulsing beat. It was damp. He was sitting in something wet, and he felt an instant of alarm before he realized that it was water and not his own blood. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, shapes began to appear. A maze of pipes. A metal gangplank overhead and metal stairs. Motors, pumps. He was somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship, sitting on a narrow walkway above two huge machines. Turbines? Generators? Oliver didn’t know anything about ships. He couldn’t guess how long he had been down here. His head was pounding, and his mouth felt like cotton. He tested his bonds and was dismayed to realize that he was tied to a pole of some sort.

  This was a predicament.

  His vision began to clear enough for him to make out two figures standing over him. One of them bent down to look him in the face. “Welcome back, Mr. Nash.”

  Cornero.

  Oliver tried to speak, but he had no air. He gulped another breath and croaked, “You said you weren’t going to hurt me.”

  “I said I wasn’t going to kill you. You should pay better attention. Now, tell me what Dix is after and then you can lie here and rest in comfort for the rest of the night.”

  “All right, all right. She wants to know who rubbed out Valentino.”

  “Rubbed him out? I thought he died of a perforated ulcer.”

  “She seems to think different.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying Dix thinks I croaked Valentino? Why would I knock him off? He put up part of the money for this casino. In fact, he put up a wad to help me outfit this ship. He ain’t going to help me anymore, is he?”

  “You’re not going to have to pay him back now, are you?” He could tell by Cornero’s expression that this fact had already occurred to him. Oliver continued. “Besides, you have other backers, haven’t you? Jack Dragna? Maybe Miles Donahue? I saw all three of you at Valentino’s funeral.”

  “That don’t mean I bumped off Rudy. I liked the little paisan. Besides, what does Dix care?”

  “Who else knew that Valentino was one of your backers? Did somebody approach you with an offer once Valentino died?”

  “Is that what this is all about? Dix wants to find out who I’m in business with? Why don’t she just ask me?”

  “Look, Tony, Dix doesn’t share her thoughts with me. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s interested in coming in on the business with you.”

  “She never was interested in nosing in on my import business before.”

  “But now you’re expanding into gambling, and that’s right up her alley.”

  Cornero considered this for a moment. “Dix could buy her own fleet of ships and have floating casinos up and down the whole Pacific coast. She don’t need mine.”

  “Why should she start from scratch when you’ve already built this nice little establishment for her to get started with?”

  “I wouldn’t take a thin dime from K. D. Dix. Once she gets her claws into you, she never lets go.”

  No kidding, Oliver thought. “I imagine she’s planning a hostile take-over. Even if you turn her down, once she finds out who your partners are, all she has to do is buy them out. And if they don’t want to sell, she knows lots of very persuasive ways to change their minds.”

  Cornero listened with growing agitation, his face growing red. He took a breath to stave off an angry explosion. “Thanks for the warning, pal. Now you can take a message to Dix from me.” He made a few filthy suggestions, then added, “And the next time I see one of her toadies on my ship, I’ll send him back to her in little pieces.” He slapped Oliver across the face for good measure, then turned to Baldy. “Tie him up good. I don’t want him wandering around the ship.” He stalked away and disappeared up the stairwell.

  ~ The Cavalry is on the Way! ~

  The stairs changed from marble to metal as Bianca and Fairbanks descended into the bowels of the ship. When they reached the bottom deck, they found themselves standing on a narrow central landing with two huge iron hatches, one on either side of them.

  “Which way?” Bianca was distressed.

  “Usually the hold is fore, and the engine room is aft,” Fairbanks said. “Did you hear them say they were taking Oliver to the hold or to the engine room?”

  “No, Cornero said ‘take him to the boiler room.’”

  “That’s the engine room. All right then, that sid
e is the hold…” he gestured to his left, “so this door on the right is the one we want.” Fairbanks heaved open the hatch, and they stepped through onto a small steel mesh platform that served as a landing for an upper level walkway around the deck. A metal ladder led down to the lower gangways. The engine room was dark, hot, and smelled of sea water and diesel. Far below them, Bianca could just make out several huge machines. The deep thrumming noise of engines and hiss of boilers made it difficult to think, much less to hear what was happening on the gangway below. But she could see Oliver tied to the railing and the bald man standing over him with a gun.

  Bianca elbowed Fairbanks in the ribs and pointed. Fairbanks put a finger to his lips, and they communicated a quick plan to one another in an ersatz sign language though they probably could have shouted and not been heard below. Fairbanks took a small folding utility knife out of his trouser pocket and handed it to Bianca before he started down the ladder, and she crept around the upper walkway toward the opposite end of the deck.

  * * *

  Baldy’s gleeful expression gave Oliver a bad feeling. “You don’t have to hang around,” he said to his captor, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Baldy agreed. “No, you’re not.” He drew his .38 from his shoulder holster.

  Oliver swallowed. “What are you doing? You can’t kill me. Cornero said he wanted me to send a message to Dix. ”

  “Screw Cornero.” Baldy pressed the gun to Oliver’s temple. “I don’t work for Cornero.”

  Oliver couldn’t help but lean away from the gun barrel. “Dragna…” he managed. “Black Hand.”

  Baldy laughed. “Dragna’s a putz. No, I seen the goon you’re with. I know he’s Dix’s man. I got a dozen guys looking for him, and when we find him, he can take your head back to Dix. That’s a message she’ll listen to.”

  “Wait! I got a right to know who is…”

  Oliver was interrupted by clatter on the gangway and Baldy spun around to see a man tripping toward them unsteadily.

  It was Douglas Fairbanks in the flesh, complete with trim mustache and gleaming smile, apparently dead drunk. “Pardon me, old man.” He had to yell to be heard over the engine noise. “I must have taken a wrong turn. Where’s the poop deck?”

  Oliver couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Baldy’s back was to him now, so he couldn’t see the thug’s face, but he could imagine his shocked expression. What now? Shoot a famous movie star?

  Maybe. Baldy decided to brazen it out. “Well, look who we have here. Ain’t this a treat! Are you lost, Mr. Fairbanks? If you are, you’d better go back up them stairs and get unlost real fast. This don’t have nothing to do with you, so keep your mouth shut about what you saw.”

  Fairbanks stopped in the middle of the gangway and threw his hands up in a gesture of compliance. “Now, hang on, old fellow.” He paused to peer at the pistol in Baldy’s hand. “Wait a minute. What’s going on here?”

  Oliver was riveted by the scene. It took him a moment to realize that Bianca had dropped down beside him from the walkway above. She was in her stocking feet, and as she crouched down, the slit in her skirt parted, baring one leg all the way up to her garter, from the top of which glinted the handle of a small Browning pistol. She slipped Fairbanks’s knife out of her décolletage and cut through the cord that bound Oliver’s hands.

  Oliver was in danger of his life, and all he could think about was that Bianca was armed to the teeth in the sexiest possible way.

  Fairbanks took a step backward, away from Baldy. “Say, old fellow, what have I stumbled on here?”

  Baldy made a decision. “You, Fairbanks, get over here. You can keep my pal company for a while until I parlay with the boss about what to do with you. Can’t have you blabbing.”

  Fairbanks appeared to have trouble understanding the gravity of the situation. “Blab about what?”

  Oliver gestured for Bianca to hide before Baldy turned and saw her. She ignored him and stood up. He tugged on her skirt, mouthed, You’re not helping. She slapped his hand away. Oliver tried to stand as well but a shock of pain from his head wound knocked him on his ass.

  Fairbanks yelled, trying to draw Baldy’s attention, but it was too late. Baldy to spun back around and leveled his .38 at Bianca. With no time to think of an alternative, Fairbanks gritted his teeth and sent a roundhouse kick to Baldy’s head and sent him reeling over the side of the walkway. Baldy snatched at the railing but couldn’t hold on. He made no sound as he fell, bounced off a turbine, and with a dull metallic thud, hit the deck far below.

  Fairbanks looked down on Baldy’s still form with a mix of astonishment and delight. “Hot damn!”

  ~ A Close Shave! But there’s no time to Savor their Escape. Worse Danger is Yet to Come! ~

  Fairbanks looked like a ton of bricks had just fallen on him, as surprised at what he had done as Baldy had been.

  “Doug!” Bianca cried out and pointed to the landing above.

  Miles Donahue was standing at the rail, stone sober. The gun he was pointing at Fairbanks’s back was no .38, but a Colt revolver the size of a small cannon.

  Oliver got to his knees, which wasn’t easy. He was dizzy and stiff, and entirely confused. Bianca moaned.

  Fairbanks’s eyes widened as he looked back over his shoulder. “You?”

  Donahue laughed. “Actors! What a couple of maroons! How kind you were to listen to my tale of woe, Fairbanks. And then you, you little bitch, came flitting up and the two of you made your ridiculous rescue plan right over my head. I heard every word. You think Cornero killed Vasilino? Hah! Cornero couldn’t kill anybody. He’s a simpleton who doesn’t know the first thing about running a business. Why, that idiot couldn’t find his dick on a dark night. Who do you think is in charge of hiring all the personnel for this rust bucket? Me, that’s who.”

  Bianca gasped. “You’re the one who hired Fabulous Franz to poison Rudy?”

  “Don’t say that pansy boy’s name! They all work for me, all of them, my army of enforcers, accountants, waiters, poisoners, assassins. They do whatever I tell them, including get rid of the trash.”

  “So you had him poisoned?” Fairbanks said. “What a way to kill a guy. Why not have one of your punks shoot him?”

  Donahue shrugged. “I tried to pull off a couple of ‘accidents’ but that didn’t work. I didn’t want to make him a martyr in my daughter’s eyes. Besides, I wanted him to suffer.”

  Oliver dragged himself to his feet and took a few steps forward, positioning himself between Donahue and Bianca. “How are you going to get out of this, Donahue? Kill two of the most famous people on earth?”

  “Yes, well, it’s a shame, isn’t it? The ferry is going to sink and take LaBelle and Fairbanks and some nameless schmuck to the bottom of the bay. The sharks’ll probably get to the bodies before the cops can dredge them up in time to count the bullet holes. Now that you’ve eliminated Foster, I’ll have to get one of my other…”

  ~ A Shot Rings Out! ~

  It took Oliver a fraction of a second to realize that he was still alive. There had been loud report, a cry, a metallic ping, and ricochet, a clatter as Donahue’s .45 went over the side of the rail and hit the deck below.

  Oliver turned toward the source of the shot, behind him, trying to process what he saw. Bianca was standing at the end of the gangway, pointing her Browning over Oliver’s head at Donahue, who was gripping his wrist and spewing the most spectacular invective at her.

  She had shot the Colt out of his hand. Until that moment, Oliver thought that was only possible in movies and Western novels.

  “Bianca!” Oliver cried out her name without thinking. Fairbanks rushed toward them, crying, “Run!”

  It was too late to run. Bianca fired at Donahue again, and missed.

  Donahue disappeared through the hatch, blood dripping from the wounded right hand hanging useless at his side.
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br />   Oliver sat down heavily on the walkway, and Bianca knelt down beside him. “Are you all right?”

  Am I? Oliver wondered, but he said, “What the hell just happened? Donahue had Valentino killed because of his daughter?”

  Bianca’s green eyes were wild, and her face was flushed from excitement, fear, and the steamy heat of the boilers. “I thought it was Cornero! But it didn’t have anything to do with money or gambling debts or bootlegging or any of that. Donahue’s daughter had the hots for Rudy, and the feeling may have been mutual. So Donahue had Rudy poisoned to keep him away from his daughter. The question is what are we going to do about it?”

  Fairbanks had crouched beside Bianca and put a protective arm around her. “We’re not going to do anything about it, Missy. We’re going to find a way to get the hell off this ship as fast as we can. You heard what Donahue said. Everybody on the boat works for him.”

  ~ A Perilous Getaway ~

  Oliver allowed Bianca and Fairbanks to help him to his feet, and the three headed for the hatch. If Donahue managed to alert his goons and send them down the ladder after them before they reached an upper deck, they’d be trapped. But it was the only exit from the boiler room that they could see, so they had no choice.

  Fairbanks led the way, with Bianca behind him and Oliver limping along behind. He almost ran into Bianca when she balked at the foot of the ladder. “My shoes…” she said. “I left them on the walkway.”

  Fairbanks bounded up the steps without a backward look. “You can afford to buy new ones, Missy. Let’s go! Ándale! Chop chop!”

  She grumbled but obeyed, and the sight of her supple feet and slender ankles on the stairs before him almost made Oliver forget his aching head. They had just reached the deck above when they heard the clatter of feet rushing down the stairwell. Fairbanks shoved Bianca through the hatch ahead of Oliver and himself, and the three pressed their backs to the bulkhead, holding their collective breath, until several muscle-bound shapes bounded past the opening, headed toward the boiler room. When the footfalls faded, the fugitives slipped back onto the stairwell and continued upward.