The Never War (11 page)

F
ive minutes later we were downstairs and climbing into a taxicab with the lady flier. I wasn't totally irresponsible though. I told Gunny we were going out with Jinx. He didn't like the fact that we were leaving, but then thought it might be a good idea for us to be away from the hotel for a while. Since the night before, the place was crawling with reporters trying to find the mysterious waiters who saved the life of the notorious Max Rose. Getting away from that circus was probably a smart thing to do.

As we rode in the taxi, Jinx wouldn't tell us where we were headed. She said it was a surprise, but guaranteed we'd like it. To be honest, the thought flashed through my head that she might have been sent by Saint Dane, or even worse, she might actually
be
Saint Dane. But nothing about her set my radar off. I was pretty sure she was exactly who she said she was: Jinx Olsen, an incredible flier for the Coast Guard.

The taxicab took us over to the West Side of Manhattan and the Hudson River. That's when we saw what Jinx had in store for us. When she said she was going to take us for a ride,
she really meant it. There, tied up at the end of a pier, bobbing on the water, was Jinx's airplane. Or maybe I should call it a seaplane.

It was a wacky-looking contraption, not at all like the sleek planes of Second Earth. The silver ship floated gently on the swells, looking as if it wanted to be in the air instead of pretending to be a boat. It was a biplane, which meant it had two sets of wings, one on top of the other. Between the two wings was a big, single engine. But rather than the propeller being in front, it faced backward. Weird. There were two cockpits, one behind the other, ahead of the wings. They weren't closed in, either. When you flew in this plane, you were going to feel it in your face, and probably in your stomach, too. Painted on the silver fuselage, just under the front cockpit, was the crossed-anchor emblem of the U.S. Coast Guard.

“That's my baby,” she said. “The V-one-fifty-seven Schreck/Viking. She may not look like much, but she's a sweetie in the air.”

She jumped aboard and began her preflight check. I was psyched.

Spader pulled me aside so Jinx couldn't hear and said, “Odd looking speeder, that one.”

“It's not a speeder,” I said. “It's an airplane.”

“A what?”

“An airplane. A seaplane, actually. We're going to take off on the water and fly up in the air.”

For the first time since I'd known him, Spader looked totally dumbfounded. His mouth actually hung open. No kidding. Wide open. I might as well have said we were going to drink every drop of water in the Hudson. That's how alien a concept flying was to him.

“We're going to fly? Up there? In the air? Like a bird? In that thing?” he asked.

“Yup,” I answered.

“That's unnatural!” he exclaimed.

“No more unnatural than putting a clear dome over your head and breathing underwater, but you do that on Cloral every day.”

“Yes, but that's simple,” he said. “Flying is…is…impossible.”

“Want to bet?” I asked.

Jinx handed us each a brown canvas sack with straps that looked like an old-fashioned backpack. I knew what it was, but I was a little nervous about explaining it to Spader.

“Can't go up without a chute,” Jinx said while putting on one of her own. “Just a precaution, like wearing a life vest on a boat.” She then demonstrated how to put on the parachute. Uncle Press had taken me skydiving a few times, so I was familiar with the whole deal. Even though this parachute pack was ancient, the principals were the same. I buckled in the way Jinx showed us. Spader did too. He didn't ask what it was for, until we were all buckled up and Jinx did a safety check.

“Looks good,” she said.

“What is this for?” Spader finally asked. I looked to Jinx. I didn't want to be the one to break the news.

“It's a parachute, of course,” Jinx said as if she couldn't believe he didn't know. “If you fall out, pull on this metal ring. But try not to fall out.”

She winked and headed for the plane.

Spader looked at me with a sick expression, “If I fall out, pull this ring?” he repeated. “What happens then? I sprout wings and fly?”

I laughed and said, “Sort of. Don't worry about it. You won't need it.”

I pushed him toward the plane, and we boarded. Jinx was at the controls in the forward cockpit. I sat in the back with Spader. It was cramped, especially with the bulky parachute packs, but I didn't care. Jinx gave us each some leather flight caps and floppy goggles to wear. It was a good thing she had warned us to dress warmly. If we were going to be flying around in an open cockpit, it was going to get chilly.

“Buckle in!” Jinx commanded. Spader and I both found some cheesy leather seatbelts and strapped ourselves in. Good idea. Remember, the cockpits were wide open. We didn't want to have to use the parachutes.

“Ready?” she shouted from up front.

“Hobey-ho, let's go!” I shouted.

Spader just grunted. I think he was already nauseous.

Jinx turned over the engine, and with a throaty roar, the giant propeller behind our heads began to turn. Man, it was noisy. I'm not talking about loud. I'm talking about teeth-rattling, bone-jarring, makes-your-stomach-throb-and-your-ears-hurt noisy. At least the leather caps helped to cut some of the noise. I wished I had my CD Walkman.

The whole plane rattled from the force of the engine. I had been in a lot of airplanes—mostly big jetliner-type planes. But Uncle Press had taken me in a few smaller planes. Remember, he was a pilot. So between the flying lessons and the skydiving lessons, I was pretty comfortable in the air. But this plane was rickety. It may have been new in 1937, but by my standards it was only a couple of steps ahead of Wilbur and Orville–time. Still, I trusted Jinx. She was a national poster girl for the Coast Guard, right? She knew what she was doing. At least that's what I told myself.

Spader was another matter. He was scared to death. He had never experienced anything close to this. He sat next to me as stiff as a tree. I could almost feel his heart thumping in his chest. But believe it or not, I knew he wanted to be here. He may have been scared, but he was always up for an adventure.

I had never taken off in a seaplane before. It was a bumpy experience. The water on the Hudson was calm, but even on a calm day there was some chop. So when Jinx turned the plane into the wind and gunned the throttle, we were treated to nearly thirty seconds of bouncing, bumping, and rocking as the plane accelerated over the swells. Then, just when I thought my brain was going to break loose inside my skull, Jinx pulled back on the yoke and we rose into the air. The ride became instantly smooth as we lifted up from the river and headed for the sky.

What followed was an hour that I will remember for the rest of my life.

Jinx treated us to an aerial tour of New York City. We flew up the Hudson and over the newly built George Washington Bridge. We rounded the northernmost tip of Manhattan and got a bird's-eye view of Yankee Stadium. We flew down the East River, watching the barges slowly make their way from the ocean to Long Island Sound. We flew over the Brooklyn Bridge and into New York Harbor, where we were treated to a close-up view of the Statue of Liberty…at eye level. Jinx circled the statue four times, then turned back toward Manhattan. We flew north over the island until we got to the Empire State Building, where we did another four turns around.

Somewhere between the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty, Spader began to relax. Up until then he had been
clutching the side of the cockpit so hard I thought he'd bend the metal. But gradually he loosened up and enjoyed the tour as much as I did.

“What a great plane!” I shouted to Jinx over the roar of the engine.

“Isn't she?” Jinx shouted back. “We've been all over the country together.”

“Isn't it hard to always find water to take off and land?” I asked.

“Don't need it!” she shot back. “She's got wheels for a runway. I can fly this sweetheart wherever the wind takes me. Or the Coast Guard sends me.”

The trip ended with a perfect landing on the Hudson, where Jinx guided us expertly back to the pier. She killed the engine and we were treated to something unbelievably fantastic—silence. Once the plane was safely secured, the three of us stood together on the pier.

“Jinx,” I said. “I don't know what else to say but ‘thank you.'”

“Double for me,” added Spader. “I never would have believed it was possible for people to fly.”

“You're kidding!” said Jinx with surprise. “Where do you live, under a rock?”

“No,” answered Spader. “Under the water most of the time, but I'm not sure what that's got to do with it.”

I figured I'd better step in and change the direction of this conversation. “We'll never forget this, Jinx,” I said.

Jinx looked at her plane. I thought I sensed a bit of sadness in her. “I love to fly,” she said. “Hard to believe it's all going to end.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I just got word this morning. After this tour, I'm grounded.”

“What? Why?”

“I think the brass is afraid something might happen to me,” she said with a hint of anger. “I agreed to do all this public relations stuff so they'd let me fly. Now I've become so famous, they're worried if something happens to me it'll look bad for everybody. Stupid thing is, they're probably right. If I crashed, they wouldn't let another woman in the cockpit for thirty years. Here I thought I was paving the way for women fliers, and all I did was take myself out of the sky.”

Neither Spader nor I knew what to say. Jinx then put on her big, trademark smile. “But until they yank me outta the cockpit, I'm going up whenever I get the chance. So thanks, you two, for giving me the excuse to go on this little jaunt.”

We all climbed in a cab and headed back to the hotel. Jinx was her old self again, telling us stories about how she learned to fly, and how she once crash-landed in a pasture in Maine and had to dodge a herd of moose. I really liked her and felt bad that soon she would no longer be able to do the thing she enjoyed so much. I really hoped she would find another way to get back into the air.

When we got back to the Manhattan Tower Hotel, Spader and I thanked Jinx again and left her at the front curb. We didn't want to run into any reporters so we ducked into a side entrance. We made it through the kitchen and the dining room and were just about to climb the service stairs to our room, when somebody grabbed both of us by the back of the neck. It was one of Max Rose's bodyguards.

“I've been looking all over for you two,” he growled. “Mr. Rose would like a word with you.”

Uh-oh. Was this good news or bad news? Was this going to be another chance to learn about Max Rose and his evil plot with the Nazis? Or was he ticked about me not following his order to shoot the gangster and planning to make us both pay the price? The truth was, it didn't matter because we didn't have any choice. We were going to have an audience with Max Rose, whether we liked it or not.

M
ax Rose's bodyguard kept a firm hold on both of our jackets and marched us to the elevator like two kittens being carried by the neck. I can't speak for Spader, but my feet barely skimmed the ground. Dewey rode us up to the penthouse without a word. He didn't look at any of us. I knew he was thinking about the laundry chute. We hit the thirtieth floor and the bodyguard carried us toward the penthouse. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and pulled away.

“Enough, all right!” I shouted. “We're not going anywhere.”

The guy looked at me with fire in his eyes. He didn't like being told what to do, especially by a punk bellhop. For a second I thought he was going to punch my lights out, but he held back. I would have bet anything it was because Max Rose wanted us alive and in one piece. This was good. I started to feel like we weren't being led toward a gangland execution. At least not today, anyway.

We followed the thug into the penthouse and right to the living room where I had set up lunch for Mr. Rose and Ludwig Zell. Max Rose was there waiting for us. He stood
behind a bar, dressed in another silky bathrobe, only this one was deep purple. The bodyguard stood at the door with his arms folded. If we had to make a run for it, we'd have to get through him first. That pretty much meant we weren't going to be making a run for it.

“There you are, Buck!” he said with a warm smile. “And we got your sidekick, too. What's your name? Flash Gordon?”

“Vo Spader,” answered Spader.

“Vo?” said Max with surprise. “What kind of name is that?”

“What kind of name is Rose?” asked Spader. “Isn't that some kind of flower?”

I winced. I didn't think it was a good idea to match wisecracks with a mobster. Max Rose stared at Spader for a moment, then smiled. “You've got brass, just like your buddy,” he said. “I like that, Flash.”

Spader gave me a sideways “Who is Flash?” look. But I ignored him.

Rose fixed himself a drink. He poured some amber liquid into a crystal glass, then gave it a squirt of bubbly water that he shot out of a bottle with a trigger. I'd seen those babies before. The Three Stooges used them all the time. I never knew people used them for anything other than water fights though.

The door on the far side of the room opened and in walked Esther Amaden. Actually, “walked” isn't the right word. She slinked in like a cat. She was wearing another long nightgown with a violet-colored shimmery robe over it. Didn't these people ever get dressed?

“You know my associate, Miss Amaden, right?”

“My friends call me Harlow,” she said as she draped herself on a couch. “You saved Maxie's life. I think that makes you a friend.”

“That's why I wanted to see you boys,” said Rose as he lowered his huge frame into an easy chair. “Harlow's right. I think you've got more guts than most of the knuckleheads who work for me.” He gestured at the bodyguard by the door. The big goon looked down, embarrassed.

“So I brought you up here to say a proper thank-you,” continued Rose. “And to give you a reward.” This was looking good. Max Rose felt as if he owed us something. We had to be smart about this.

“We don't want any reward,” I said. “We did what we had to do.”

“That's a good little spaceman, but I'm telling you, you deserve it.”

“Don't disappoint him,” Harlow said. “He isn't always so generous.”

“You boys name it,” Rose said after gulping down some of his drink. “Within reason, of course. What is it you want? Money? You can't be making all that much dough working at this hotel. Or a car? I can get you any ride you want. What is it you little Martians would like?”

This was our chance. It wasn't about money or cars or any kind of reward. This was about Max Rose feeling as if he owed us something. If we were going to find out more about him and about his connection with the Nazis and Saint Dane, this was the time to do it. I had to come up with something fast.

“What do you think, Pendragon?” Spader asked. I could tell by the look on his face that we were thinking the same way. He saw the opportunity here too. The question was, how to handle it?

A thought blasted into my head. It was a dangerous thing to do, but I couldn't think of anything better in a nanosecond. So my mouth started working before my brain could catch up.

“I'll tell you what we want,” I said, trying to sound confident. “We want a piece of the action.”

Max Rose spit his drink halfway across the room. I swear, he did this huge, wet spit-take. Most of his drink was now on the carpet.

“You want
what
?” he shouted.

“Yeah,” said Spader, sounding pretty nervous. “What exactly is it we want?”

I had gotten myself into this. It was time to start making it work or we'd never leave this room. Max Rose stood up and went to the bar to fix himself another drink.

“We hear things, you know,” I said, trying to sound cocky but not disrespectful. “Can't help it, working in a place like this.”

“Yeah? What is it you hear?” said Rose. He was annoyed. I was going to have to talk our way out of this…or into it. Either way, I had to talk fast.

“We hear you're in for a pretty big score, maybe in a couple of days.”

Max Rose shot me a look, going from annoyed to angry. I was pushing too hard.

“I'm not saying we want a part of that or anything,” I assured him. “We don't deserve nothing like that. I'm just saying we want to be part of your operation. You know, like maybe help you out with whatever it is you got going on.”

Max Rose poured his drink and squirted more fizzy water. I could tell he was thinking about what I had said. The question was,
what
was he thinking? The answer would probably mean the difference between life and death for Spader and me.

“What did you hear about this score I got coming up?” he asked.

I shrugged. I had to keep up the tough-guy act or he'd eat
me alive. “Not much,” I said. “Just that there's some big payoff coming in for something you did, and that there might be more where that came from. A lot more.”

I didn't want him to know we knew about Ludwig Zell and his connection with the Nazis. That would put us dangerously close to the category of knowing too much. Rose looked at me. I felt like he was deciding whether to keep up the conversation or grab his gun and shoot me. I really hoped he was feeling talkative.

“That's all you know?” he asked.

“That's it,” I said. “But you're the smartest, best-connected guy we've ever met. It would be an honor to work for you.” I figured throwing in a little butter couldn't hurt.

“So that's it,” Max Rose said. “You want a job.”

“That's it,” I answered confidently.

“Why should I trust you two?” he asked. “You're nothing but snot-nosed kids.”

“With respect, mate,” said Spader. “We're snot-nosed kids who saved your life.”

Max glanced over to Harlow. Harlow raised an eyebrow. “They've got more smarts than any of the clods you got on the payroll now,” she said. “Maybe you should give 'em a small job to start. You know, as a test.”

Rose looked at Harlow with a mischievous little gleam. “You got something in mind?” he asked her.

Harlow stood up and slinked over to us. She walked around us, sizing us up like a cat plays with a mouse. Of course, right after a cat does that it usually kills and eats the mouse.

“Why don't you send these boys down to see Farrow,” she said slyly.

“What for?” Rose asked.

“To give him a message,” was the answer. “Have them tell Farrow to lay off. You'll give him a pass for sending his hitman up here, but only if he lays low for a couple of days. Let him know that if he doesn't back off, you'll come down on him, hard. If he listens, you won't have to worry about him until after your score comes in.”

“And if he doesn't listen?” Rose asked.

“Then you'll know you've got to take care of business,” Harlow answered. “
His
business.”

Wow. Harlow may have been beautiful and talented, but she had some cold blood running through her. She liked playing dangerous games. Trouble is, I didn't. There was no way I wanted to go meet this Winn Farrow dude. From what everybody said, he was a psycho and more dangerous than Max Rose.

“I don't get it,” I said, trying not to sound chicken. “I thought we proved ourselves last night?”

“Yeah, maybe,” answered Rose. “But you turned yellow, Buck. You didn't shoot when I told you to. If somebody's gonna work for me, I gotta know they got the guts to do what I tell 'em, when I tell 'em, no matter how ugly it is.”

Harlow walked behind Rose and played with his hair while he spoke.

“I got enemies,” he said. “Hard to believe since I'm such a sweet guy, but it's true. That gunman last night, I know him. He works for a competitor of mine.”

“We know. Winn Farrow,” I said. “Your old partner.”

Rose looked up at Harlow. “I told you these boys were smart,” she said.

“Yeah, Winn Farrow,” said Rose. “I have no beef with the man. He's got his business, I got mine. But lately he's been getting a little, I don't know, jealous. You're right. I got a big score coming in. I don't want Farrow doing anything to mess that
up. So here's what I want you to do. Go see my old friend and tell him to back off. That's it. Just tell him to back off. Tell him I'm mad, and by all rights I should hit him back for what he did. Hard. But for old times' sake, I won't. But if he doesn't mind his own business, then I'll come down there and put a hurt on him like he's never seen before.”

“That's it?” asked Spader. “All you want us to do is deliver that message?”

“That's it,” answered Rose. “Do that for me, and you're in.”

“He'll kill us,” was all I could say.

Rose laughed. “I figure one of two things will happen. Either you boys make it back in one piece and I'll know I won't have any problems from Farrow, or you'll come back in a bunch of little pieces, and I'll have a war on my hands.” He then broke into a grin that can only be described as evil. “So, how bad do you two still want a piece of my action?”

Gulp. I knew the answer to that. We were going to have to accept Rose's offer. But that meant we would have to meet Winn Farrow and his gang of cutthroats. These were the guys who tried to kill Max Rose. These were the guys who tried to kill us. These were the guys who Saint Dane had taken to the flume and used to kill Uncle Press. As suicidal as this mission was, we had to go.

At least we were getting closer to the truth. I had no doubt in my mind that when we met Winn Farrow and his gang, we'd find Saint Dane. I just hoped we'd stay alive long enough to do something about it.