SILENT GUNS (43 page)

“
Sam. You’re not a politician.”
The Mayor’s voice was coldly official. “Sometimes, you have to face
the public before you have answers.”

Mitchell said,” I agree with Sam, Mayor.

Chitterman added, “You said Trent called, Sam?”

Grille spoke into the speaker. “Linda, set up a
media conference immediately after the Navy announcement. Meet us
in the dispatcher’s office in ten minutes.”

Grille hung up, and then said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

The radio blared away filling the turret with the
local weather report. Madden had just tuned out the daily shipping
news, ships arriving or leaving port for distant destinations.
Harper grumped and threw a dogged-eared magazine into a dark
corner.

He complained, “Rain. Rain. Rain. That’s all that
weather guy ever says. Every day he gives the same damn report. I
bet every morning he phones it in and then rolls over in bed.”

Graves grumbled, “Gimme Reno. Cold and dry, so dry
you can tell a native ‘cause they all look like prunes. I ain’t
been dry a day since I got here. Give the damn heater a kick.”

Harper turned, “What’s eatin’ you, big boy, you
could sleep naked in a walk-in refrigerator.”

“
Go take a hike off the bow,”
Graves snapped. “Two days and nothing…not a peep out of those City
creeps. I don’t like sittin’. I want my dough and my ass outta
here.”

Harper propped himself up on his cot and laced his
fingers behind his head and chided, “When we get paid, you get
paid; besides, enjoy the game, we move, they move – it’s like
chess.”

Graves spoke, his voice held even, “Screw games.
Harper, take my watch.” Graves’ eyes narrowed. The vein on his
forehead began to throb as his face reddened.

Harper looked up, his face puzzled. “Screw you. Take
your own watch. And you better get your ass moving, you’re already
late.” He looked away and was not expecting what came next. Graves
grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up off the cot in one
motion. He shook him viciously. Harper clutched at Graves’ fingers,
struggling to tear them apart.

“
I don’t take orders from the
likes of you,” Graves roared.

Harper gurgled.

Graves laughed and slammed him back on his cot.
Harper lay staring up helplessly. Graves’ eyes were burning; they
held a hint of madness in their depths. He backed away, and moved
cat-like to the hatch. He held himself framed in the light for a
split second, then dropped out, his feet slapping the wet, teak
deck.

Harper ranted, rubbing his throat, “He’s gone
Looney.”

Madden said, “Keep cool, don’t let him get to you.
This job is almost over. When we get paid, he can go his own way.”
Then, he added quickly, “Have one of these turrets ever blown
up?”

“
Yeah! One I know of.” Harper sat
up, still massaging his neck, said almost without thinking. “Off of
Makin, ‘43, maybe ‘44, don’t rightly remember exactly. The
Mississippi
was shellin’ the Japs, you know, softening up
them yella bellies so the 27th Infantry could get ashore. The
explosion killed 43 guys: they didn’t have a chance. That’s when
the
Liscome Bay
bought the farm, she was torpedoed by a Jap
sub that slipped under the screen. A real charnel house, she was.
Over 600 guys out of 900 were killed.”

Harper arose and said hurriedly, “One of the things
you learn in gunnery school is to keep your powder cool. And, I’d
tell ‘em to stay out of the turret until the last second. Make sure
the breech is clear of hot debris before you reload. You have to
load just right: one miss-step and blooie! Makes me think about
that Scarese guy. If we had powder bags in here and the grenade had
gone off, we’d gone sky-high.” Harper said, “Why don’t you flip on
the TV, anything, but that As The World Turns. All those people;
marrying, divorcing and screwing bugs me. Then, them kids running
around and nobody claiming them. Reminds me of my own family.
Stayed long enough to get my high school diploma, then I lit out
and joined the Navy. I did, and I was gone-oo.

Madden’s face took on a rapt expression.

Harper exclaimed, “Hey! Listen.”

Stay tuned to this channel. At 6 p.m. this evening,
we will bring you a special announcement by Rear-Admiral Brian
Burns, Commander of the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard on behalf of the
United States Navy regarding the battleship Missouri. At 6:30 Mayor
Joe Grille will join us for a briefing on the latest events. Let
your friends and neighbors know: All citizens are asked to tune
in.

“
Money sez the Navy’s gonna run up
the white flag.”

“
That means payday for
us.”

“
Better let Trent
know.”

“
I need the fresh air. I’ll go,”
Harper said, starting up.

“
Trent. Calling Trent. This is
Chief Simons. Come in, please.”

Harper got up and flicked off the TV.

Madden picked up the mike. “We’ll get him, hang on.”
Madden pushed the button on the walkie-talkie. “Tony, Simons is on.
Better come on down.” Trent pulled up through the turret hatch, his
slicker splattering under a constant downpour. He brusquely shook
it out and threw it over the open hatch to drip.

“
Simons,” Madden whispered, almost
as an afterthought, handing Trent the mike. Trent winced at the
crackle, the masking of Simons’ voice, giving it an eerie, unreal
quality, of fading in and out.

“
I thought you should know. The
Navy will agree to your terms: Burns will make an announcement
tonight at 1800.”

“
We heard on TV.” Trent shouted
over the irritating clutter.

“
The war is over.”

“
Glad to hear that.”

“
Kindler is dead. Shot
himself.”

“
There are others to
testify.”

“
Proust is gone, too. Farr,
Johnson and Denton don’t know anything, except they were sure you
were screwed. Others agree, but they can’t help your case. No
facts. No evidence. No key witnesses. It doesn’t look good for
you.”

“
I’ve nothing to gain, then, by
surrendering, except a prison term. Is that what you’re telling
me?” Trent laughed. “What about Burns?”

“
I’m working on Burns, but no
promises.”

“
Maxie Hirsch is dead; heart
attack. He’s stashed in the breech of the #1 gun. Newby Hatcher is
dead; knifed by Scarese.”

“
Forgot to tell you, Flora Hirsch
died. Schiller’s in Walla Walla on a drug charge. We let your
girlfriend, Lisa, go. She’s pretty broken up,” Simons added. “Are
you going with your men?”

“
No reason not too,
now.”

“
Why was I set up?”

“
Just a murder, a cover-up, and
then a lifetime of blackmail.”

“
Who?”

“
Kindler did it, Proust covered up
in exchange for lifetime security. You were part of Proust’s
security package.”

“
Is it out in the
open?”

“
No. And it may never
be.”

“
Was Burns involved?”

“
Only in that he lied at your
court-martial. And, I think he’s still lying. He had his own scam
going with Kindler. I don’t know what it was. He could have dug up
Proust’s sweetheart deal. More likely, Kindler paid him off for his
testimony with promotions and a promised command of the
Missouri
. With Proust and Kindler dead, there’s no trail
left. Burns knows that and he won’t flush. Most of what I’m telling
you is conjecture on my part. Burns laughed when I faced him off.
He knows we can’t pin anything on him. Whatever he did, he may well
get away with it. Your re-trial will be a farce: so why sweat
it.”

“
Good advice. How about the $30
million?”

“
We have it: three leather,
strapped-bound suitcases. What about delivery?” Simons
asked.

“
Tomorrow. I’ll let you know
tomorrow. I want to enjoy this evening’s performance by Burns and
the Mayor.” Trent hesitated an instant. “Just to be on the safe
side, drop off tomorrow’s papers; nothing like reading the news
first-hand. I will call you.”

“
Are you through threatening the
City?”

“
For the moment, if all goes as
agreed.”

“
You still must
escape.”

“
You must still catch
me.”

“
Don’t spend the money too
soon.”

“
I’ll see you get an invitation to
the party.”

“
Tell me, can you
fire?”

“
Yes. Maxie Hirsch jury-rigged a
firelock. It worked.”

“
Would you have fired, if we
hadn’t met the deadline?”

“
You haven’t delivered yet.” Trent
laughed.

“
Run, but where?” Simons
exhaled.

“
Over and out,” Trent set down the
mike.

The atmosphere in the turret changed instantly, the
air charged with static electricity. The men exploded into cheers.
Graves, who had slipped in behind Trent, jumped up and down,
yelping like an Indian war-brave.

Trent looked at the turret clock, Maxie’s clock,
1733.

* * *

Harper’s stubby fingers tore at the string that
bound the waterproof, plastic sack. Copies of three daily papers
spilled out; the Seattle Times, the previous evening’s paper; the
Seattle-Post Intelligencer, the early morning paper, and the
Journal-American, an Eastside paper, but with a more distant,
remote flavor, impassioned, unlike the two Seattle papers. NPB#41
delivered the bundle then sailed away sprightly for safety.

“
See, what did I tell ya,” Graves
thundered. “We made the headlines. See, it says here, the City’s
gonna pay up.”

“
Give me the P.I.,” Trent said,
turning to page 16.

~ * * * ~

CHAPTER 29

A blazing, afternoon sun peeked through clouds to
emblazon the
Missouri
, the Reserve fleet and Yard beyond in
warmth. The early morning grayness had dissipated, letting a
mixture of blues and patches of billowing white shine through.
Oppressive and humid air, meanwhile, settled in overnight across
Puget Sound. Inside the turret, it was almost airless. The hatch
was left to hang open, swinging lazily to water lapping the hull.
The men waited, unknowing of outside happenings, and gorged on
sandwiches and countless mugs of coffee. No one stood watch.

“
I’m tired of eating this stuff,”
Graves said. “I hanker for a 2-pound steak and a dozen bottles of
beer.”

“
It’s almost 1800,” Madden called
out. The men huddled close to the TV set as he fiddled with the
volume knob.

“
Another beer commercial,” Harper
decried.

Graves shrugged, “How did they know?”

“
Power of suggestion, my man,”
Harper leaned over and whispered, almost conspiratorially. “I’d
settle for a bottle of whiskey, my gut is screaming.”

“
You should be grateful,” Madden
replied. “You’re dried out; almost human again.” Harper shoved his
hands out. “Crap! Look at ‘em shake. When I get my cut, it’s booze
and women, for me.”

Graves cursed, his voice filled with revulsion.
“Harper, you’re a pain in the ass sober. When you’re drunk you’re
even a bigger pain in the ass. Who would want you?”

“
Hold it,” Madden said, pointing
to the TV set. “That’s the conference room at the Navy
Yard.”

Good evening. My name is Rear-Admiral Brian D.
Burns, Commander of the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard facility. I
bring you good news. Tonight, we have reached agreement with the
terrorists aboard the Missouri who have held the City of Seattle
hostage these past few days. The siege of the City has ended. There
will be no more shelling. The United States Navy has agreed to meet
the conditions of the terrorists. The City will pay $30 million
dollars ransom and the United States Navy will grant a re-trial to
Commander Anthony Trent, the head terrorist, who believes he was
falsely convicted by the Navy of hazarding his vessel, the
Missouri, in a collision with the Duluth, sinking her, seven years
ago. We are grateful no civilian has been injured or killed. The
United States Navy appreciates the patience of the citizenry. Thank
you.

“
And now a word from our Mayor,
Joe Grille.”

Thank you, Ted. These have been trying times. Your
City has cooperated with the United States Navy and placed into
action your Police and Fire Department emergency response teams.
They responded in an exemplary manner. A great deal of credit for
bringing this unpleasant incident to a close belongs with your City
Council and other members of the Mayor’s office, my staff and
Department heads. We are making every effort, as a civil matter, to
capture and bring them to justice. These criminals shall not go
unpunished. You may now safely return to your homes and businesses.
You may now sleep secure in the knowledge your lives, and your City
is no longer under threat.

“
Thank you, Mayor Grille. And now.
Back to our regular broadcast.”

“
Well, Commander, now what?”
Harper asked.

“
Tomorrow, we get off this
bucket,” Trent said.

“
Are you going with
us?”