part 4
Martinez started to slow down, then he took in a deep breath. Chief heard it and was ready when the man launched himself at him. They'd taken the weapon he made from him after the last fight and there hadn't been enough time to make another one. Chief dropped back, turning away so the shiv Martinez thrust at him missed his chest and just left a stinging graze on his arm. He grabbed the man's shirt in his hands and as he fell he curled his back and brought his feet up levering his opponent over his head to sprawl on his back in the middle of the prison's kitchen garden. Using his momentum Chief rolled up onto his feet, snatching one of the wooden stakes out of the ground on his way up. By the time Martinez was on his feet he was ready for him.
The older con glanced at the wooden stake the kid held in his hand and laughed. This was going to be a piece of cake. He had this guy by thirty, forty pounds and at least six inches. His reach was longer, he had more experience and he had a metal shiv not some crumbling garden stake. He started circling to his left and smirked as the kid turned, following his move... He'd get him turned so he was facing the sun before he made his move. He'd never see him coming... they never did. In a couple a moves he'd be King of the yard. He'd have a cell all to himself stocked with cigarettes and booze and the best chow in the place just like the warden promised. It was just a matter of time.
Chief waited, they were almost in position. Martinez never held it together until he had the sun directly at his back, he was too nervous. And he always dropped into a crouch, then took a deep breath before he launched his attack. You could put money down on it and Chief could hear the men doing just that. Chief was a smart fighter but the betting was going against him... he'd been the yard champion for too long now and he'd had eight fights in less than two weeks. It was just a matter of time.
Martinez dropped and Chief heard the air whistle as he took his breath and then shoved off. He waited until the man was almost on top of him before he dropped to his knees. The shiv sailed past his ear and momentum carried its owner right onto Chief's up raised stake. He felt it go home and stared up into the look of surprise in the other man's eyes. Dropping his arm he let Martinez roll onto his back on the ground and he continued to stare at him, not even blinking.
Shrill whistles broke the crowd up and rough hands grabbed him and turned him out of the bright sunlight of the yard into the dim light of the cell block. He'd be in solitary for a couple of days, maybe a week... that's the way it usually worked. If he was lucky there'd be something in the cell to make into a weapon, if not, like today, he'd have to find something in the yard. The guard jerked him to a halt and the other one stepped forward to unlock the solid metal door. As the door swung open Chief's heart dropped. The cell was bare, not even a mattress on the floor and he had no doubt his meals, if he got anything, would be delivered in one of those heavy paper boxes.
The door slammed shut and he heard the key grate in the lock. Chief leaned back against the door and slid down to sit on the bare floor. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Martinez face materialized for him.... He'd been alive when the guards pulled him out of the yard. Still looking at him with that surprised expression on his face, still holding the stake that was buried deep in his gut.
Didn't matter if the guy died, Chief knew he'd be back out in the yard soon enough. There was big money to be made on the fights. The warden's invited guests paid top dollar to see one man try and kill another. They'd throw another opponent against him, and another one, and another until he finally lost and they had a new champion.... It was what they did here. It was the way the game was played. The only way out was through the cemetery.
"Get on your feet Indian, the warden wants to see you."
The shouted order was followed by two sharp raps on the metal door he was leaning against. Chief pushed up onto his feet and turned to face the door as it opened. It was too soon! They hadn't even given him enough time for the sweat to dry. He'd never survive another fight.
"What about?"
"How should I know!? Some Army joker showed up with your file in his hands and you got sent for." He threw a towel at the con's face and reached in and grabbed a handful of his shirt pulling him out into the hall. "This guy must be some kinda VIP or somethin'. I got orders to see to it you're all cleaned up nice and pretty for him."
Chief started off down the hall towards the showers. He'd heard of men being traded, transferred to other prisons where the same kinds of fights went on... but the Army? As soon as they shoved through the swinging doors he started stripping out of his things. No matter what the reason getting a chance at the showers was a gift. Usually the inmates only got a shot at them every seven to ten days and then they were herded in in batches of up to twenty. He turned the valve on full blast and gasped as the frigid water seemed to pierce his flesh with icy needles. There was only one bar of soap, gray and gritty with the grime of other bodies but at least he didn't have to struggle to get his hands on it this time. He scrubbed it over his chest and then ran it over his arms and legs, taking pains to clean the shallow cut on his arm before scrubbing it through his hair. It made a poor lather but it cut through the dirt and the sharp tang of carbolic was better than the stale smell of sweat. He stepped back into the freezing torrent, sluicing the harsh soap off his skin before he turned the water off and reached for the rough towel.
Keeping his back to the guard Chief toweled the water off his body. Wrapping the towel around his waist he turned to find the screw staring at him and he stood, glaring back at him, that same lidless stare, daring him to make a comment or make a move.... That's how this all got started. He hadn't been in the place more than three weeks before one of the inmates made a move on him and even though he was younger, smaller, he'd managed to defend himself. At first he made good betting. To look at him anyone would think he never have a chance....until they saw him fight. He'd gone from a long shot to even money, now the warden was probably having trouble finding a man willing to bet against him. That's why the number of fights had picked up, the number of days between them had dropped... and now he was being sent out there without any kind of a weapon.
"Alright! Get a move on, pretty boy."
The guard leaned against the door to the dressing room and motioned him through with the club he held in his hand. Even with the kosh he stepped back as Chief walked past and the young man saw the glint of fear in his eyes. He stepped across to the racks of clothes that lined the far wall. Shorts, and shirts and pants lay folded in stacks, socks were rolled together and tossed in a laundry bag. If you were lucky the stuff you pulled off the shelves fit, if you weren't...well at least you weren't naked. This was a gift too, being in here on his own meant he could take a minute and find the stuff that would fit him, not just take whatever was left. He dressed quickly and sat down on the bench to lace up his boots. That was the only thing that you kept through the shower ritual, if you were lucky. He'd come from the cell with them on but usually the inmates left their boots or shoes in the cells and hoped they were still there when they got back. Living in solitary since making his debut as a fighter his usually were. But they could still be taken out in the yard, if someone was foolish enough to try it.
He stood up when he was dressed. There were no combs so he just pulled his fingers through his wet hair smoothing it back off his face. There were no razors either but it didn't matter, his heritage, if not his age, left him beardless. Chief stepped over to the door and waited for the guard to signal the man on the other side to unlock it and let them through. He didn't even wonder what was waiting for him in the warden's office. Whatever it was it didn't matter. He'd already decided his luck had run out, he'd already accepted the fact that he was going to die.....
The door opened on the end of an argument...
"I'm sure there's been some sort of a mistake, Lieutenant. This can't possibly be the man you're looking for."
"And I'm just as certain he's exactly the one I'm after." The Army officer looked up as the door opened and the guard moved the prisoner through. He glanced at the file he held in his hand, he'd tracked this one down through a prison transfer. Tossing the file on the table so the young man could see it he asked. "That you?"
Chief looked down at the mug shots that were clipped to the top of the file, then back up at the military screw. "Yeah. What of it?"
The Army officer shared a glance between the warden and the guard and jerked his chin towards the door. As soon as the men started moving he settled his hip against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well if it is, I've got a proposition for you."
g
Steps in the passageway outside the door jerked Chief's attention back to the present. He set the wine bottle down on the keg and taking the stairs two at a time made it to the top landing in time to challenge Garrison with his knife as he came through the door. The lieutenant took little notice, brushing past as he made his way down the stairs to the cellar.
"Alright, everything's set. Come over here and I'll show you what you've got to do."
That's all it took to set Wheeler off. He brought his challenge right to the screw, pushing for the job to be abandoned, calling for all of them to follow him and take off. They all took the middle ground, staying neutral til they saw how the power was going to shift. Garrison didn't fall for any of it. He stood toe to toe with Wheeler and calmly told him he couldn't leave and he wouldn't let him go.
Chief took another hit off the wine bottle he had in his hand and decided the safecracker was right. One, or better yet, both of these guys had to go. Wheeler was right too. It was after eight, they didn't have much time. He hit the switch on the knife and shot the tip into the top of the wine barrel that sat next to Wheeler. If Actor was right and there was enough wrong with the lieutenant that Wheeler came out on top they could always kill him and claim they'd done it in revenge of the screw's death. If it was Wheeler that got it..., he was a big enough brawler, he'd might do enough damage that it would be easier for them to get away from their new warden. Either way, the knife would hurry things along.
Craig watched Wheeler fondle the knife, then shot a glance at the cons scattered around the room. So this was it. Jergens warned him there would probably be a showdown, some sort of test, but he'd hoped they'd be worried enough about the mission and getting out alive that it wouldn't come until they were on the way back. Appealing to the men got him nowhere so he concentrated on his attacker and hoped he would only have to face them one at a time. He backed away as the man advanced on him, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent's face as he slowly stripped the tunic off to make it easier to move. Wheeler was too sure of himself, concentrating on baiting him he made the mistake of letting him get set.
Wheeler watched as his quarry backed away from him. The knife felt good in his hand. He'd leaned forward and sliced the ribbon that decorated the screw's uniform, laughing when all the guy could come up with was to feed him some lame line about him being his only friend. Right! He watched as he slid out of the heavy jacket he wore.... That was good too. Get all that padding out of the way so the knife'll go in real easy. And he felt a thrill when he caught sight of the bandage through that nice white shirt. It ran down the guys right side along his ribs, disappearing under his belt... and the warden was right handed too. Beautiful...
They were back in the middle of the room again, just waiting to see who'd make the first move. It was Wheeler. When his eyes slid to the left to check out the other cons reaction to his challenge Garrison feinted with his left, using the jacket he'd wrapped around his arm to knock the knife from Wheeler's grip. His right hand shot out and before the blowhard could move he had him by the neck, his fingers curling in on either side of his throat. The get away driver's face flushed red immediately and then started to turn dusky as he was deprived of oxygen. His knees folded and Garrison held him up by that one hand, turning him this way and that for they others to see.
"Is that enough? Is that what you wanted to see, or is there more?" The men had taunted him when Wheeler had the knife but they were silent now, waiting to see what he'd do next. Even Chief, the wine had loosened his tongue just moments ago but it seemed to fail him now. Craig pushed Wheeler away, shoving him off into a corner, and bent down to retrieve the knife. Alright! If that's what they needed, he'd explain it too them, in their own language. As he glared around the room he let an image of what he'd do to them if they crossed him again form in his mind. It was so clear, so real they couldn't help but see it too. And then he showed them he could back that threat up. When he turned and whipped his hand forward and let the knife fly it buried itself in the barrel a fraction of an inch from Chief's hands. He ordered them into middle of the room so he could lay out the new plan but they still didn't move. The only thing that broke their trance was Duchamps staggering through the door at the top of the stairs. And as soon as the man opened his mouth the plans went out the window.
ggg
They'd gone over it and over it, but he took them through it one more time as they leaned against the ambulance and watched the activity in the station. The plates were still in the tank, Casino would go after them during a blackout that Goniff would create when he shorted the wires to the siren and caused it to go off. Garrison figured they'd have less than ten minutes if they were lucky before someone got through to the station and told them it was a false alarm. Actor would convince the soldiers left guarding the tank to get to the shelters leaving the way clear for the safecracker to make his attempt. Chief would set fire to the money the Germans had loaded on one of the box cars, destroying the stockpile of bills so they'd have to use the coded plates and providing them with a diversion that would allow them to get away. But it didn't go exactly as planned.
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Wheeler watched the action from the front seat of the ambulance. The place had turned into a ghost town as soon as the sirens sounded. He saw the know-it-all con man order the guards off the tank and watched as that loud mouth safecracker climbed in so he could go to work on the lock box. He didn't know where Garrison was but he took a chance that he'd be concentrating on the tank as he slipped out of the truck and headed for the car full of money. He still had a chance of getting the others to fall into line. Wave enough money under their noses and they'd follow him alright. Wheeler waited in the shadows for Duchamps to march away from the car as he play acted being one of the guards. Sliding the door aside he stepped inside, pulling it closed behind him. There were too many crates to count and he could smell the money.
Chief had been busy sloshing gas over the crates and getting ready to set it alight. He hadn't let himself think about what the crates contained or what it could get him. Garrison had ordered it destroyed and he'd earned the right to have his orders followed but when Wheeler showed up it shook his resolve to do what he was told. When the get away driver laid the lid back off one of the crates and he got a look at all that money he let out a low whistle but when the man wanted him to go along with him and haul four of the crates out his survival instinct took over and all he could think of was the look on Garrison's face down in that cellar, and how accurately he'd thrown that knife. He reached into the crate and grabbed up a handful of bills, stuffing them inside his shirt he advised the group's hot car specialist to do the same. Holding the rag they'd tied around his head in the candle's flame he set it burning then tossed it over the first row of boxes. Wheeler went crazy as soon as the gas caught. As flames erupted around them he frantically tried to beat them back long enough to recover one of the crates. When Chief tried to pull him out of the burning car he'd turned on him. He didn't have any other choice, as soon as the man's fingers curled around the butt of his pistol Chief let the knife fly. Choking on the heavy smoke curling off the crates he pulled the door back and reeled out of the car into Duchamps arms.
Garrison watched the action on the platform. The plates had been switched he counted on that. During the run through Casino had blown up in his face when he asked him again and again how long it would take to get through those locks. Each time he worked on a lock, the safecracker said, it was faster, this was his second time through and it would only take 'a couple a three minutes.' So his task was complete, and the commotion down near the box cars would give him more than enough cover to cut his losses, round up the others and make it back to the ambulance for their get away. If the Frenchman just kept his head and turned his rifle on Chief, taking him as a prisoner he could even pull them out of the fire with a bluff. But Duchamps wasn't used to making split second decisions, he was.
A shouted order caused him to freeze. The crates of counterfeit bills were finally burning, it looked like the tank Major had the locked box the plates were in but he and his men had spotted him as he staggered out of the burning car. Chief could just make Garrison out as he stood watching them from his place up on the catwalk. Mission accomplished, he thought... and he and Duchamps were the perfect diversion, just what the others needed to make their get away. He'd bought himself a little more time and this place didn't look anything like the yard back at the prison. It was going to be a bullet instead of a shiv but he was still going to die. Chief turned and put his hands up, that's when the shots rang out and all Hell broke lose.
Craig sprayed the tank Major and his men with machine gun fire, stayed on the catwalk just long enough to see Chief and Duchamps dive for cover, then turned his attention to the lights, plunging the station into darkness. Ducking and scrambling down the stairs just ahead of return fire he dropped onto the lower landing, just below the level of the main platform. Actor and Goniff were under the platform down near the tank, Casino still inside...if he could just make it across the platform and get them all inside he could take them out in that. Duchamps and Chief could still make it out in the ambulance with Wheeler.
Garrison pushed up from hiding to gage his chances. He took out a soldier closing in on his position, then turned to fire on a man coming up from behind but had to duck for cover again as bullets splintered the platform in front of him. Someone was in control of the gun on the tank, pinning him down. Damn! He'd never get out of there, not without help and Duchamps was too far away. But shots rang out and he could hear them pinging off the metal of the tank. Taking his chances he sprinted across the platform in a running crouch and leapt off the edge just as Actor dropped for cover and the man in the tank returned his fire and sprayed the edge of the platform that protected them with lead. Before he could pull his feet under him and get set to defend their position Goniff popped up, squeezed his eyes tight, pulled the trigger and blew the man off his perch. That was all they needed. Craig sent his men running for the tank while he provided cover. After ordering them inside he spotted Duchamps and Chief running towards them using the vehicles for cover.
"Wheeler?"
"He's not comin'."
"Chief, get in the tank!"
Once they made it out of the station the chaos they left behind covered their escape. Even the sound of a tank rolling through their streets wasn't enough for the locals to risk the slightest breach of the German's curfew and blackout order by pulling the curtains back to see who was passing and which way they were going... they got away clean.
ggg
Garrison wasn't the kind to accept losing a man, even one like Wheeler.
"You're sure he was dead?"
They watched him. It wasn't like they were used to. If you took the fall you either got yourself killed or you landed in the joint. No one came back for you. If you kept your mouth shut through the trial another job might be waiting for you when you got out... They might even try a prison break to bust you out when the heat was off if you were important enough... But no one turned back into a hail of bullets to give you a chance or thought about jumping back into the pot when it was still at full boil. This guy had done it though, and this crazy bastard was thinkin' it. All of them held their breath and waited for the Indian's answer, praying it was the right one and that he could sell the Warden on it.
"He was dead."
Chief said it with such bleak finality that Craig knew it had to be the truth. He'd find out exactly what had happened later when they were safely back in England. Turning he surveyed the men. If they'd been regular Army they'd be mourning the loss of a member of their squad...but they weren't soldiers. They were convicts and they lived by a different set of rules. He'd still be writing a letter back to the states, to the prison where he'd found and rejected Wheeler, and another one to the man listed in his records as next of kin... a brother left behind in another prison in another part of the country. He didn't need to waste his breath telling the men Wheeler hadn't died for nothing, that he'd given his life to further some kind of cause. They didn't care and it probably wasn't true anyway. Wheeler died for greed...
Goniff was telling him just that as he stood and took his cap off. Then the bills fluttered down around the little pick pocket and Garrison had a whole new problem on his hands. He'd actually expected them to make a play for some of the money... just not quite this much. The bankroll he took off the little cockney would have set a family of four up for a couple of years! And if the second story man had that kind of money on him it was a sure bet the others had their share too. He turned on each one and after an attempt to side track him or a staring match they'd finally given up the cash. The only real surprise was the bundle Goniff had planted on him.... He'd never felt that, never seen it coming. The guy had more talent than he'd given him credit for.
Garrison ordered the men on their way, they still had to meet up with that squad for their trip out, but he stood a moment and watched the smoke curl off the little bonfire he'd created from the counterfeit bills. They'd done the job, just like he knew they could. They'd improvised, almost from the start and fought him every step of the way, but they'd done the job. As soon as his report was filed he hoped command would finally see the value in his little proposal. Even with the fighting and arguing, even with the extra cost in housing and guards to keep track of them, this group would more than earn their keep. He could prove it with just two little pieces of evidence.
Craig shouldered his rifle and turned, calling out to the group retreating so meekly....
"Casino!"
Goniff pulled up in the doorway blocking the east coast con's way out. Garrison reached them in three easy strides and put his hand out. When all he got was an guiltless stare he snapped his fingers, tapped his palm with the other hand and just stood waiting. By this time Chief and Actor had turned back to see what was delaying the others.
The way out was blocked, and the way back into the bombed out building was full of expectant Army lieutenant. The group's explosives expert held his ground as long as he could but after several moments Casino finally folded, heaved a sigh and reached into the inside pocket of his tunic. Drawing out the plates he gave the small packet wrapped in soft leather one last long look before shrugging and slapping it in Garrison's outstretched palm.
"Worth a try."
Garrison nodded as he stowed the plates back in the safety belt at his waist. When he looked up he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "I like the way you guys tried to divert my attention with the bills though... proves you can improvise."
Casino gave a short bark of laughter and started on his way again only to be held back by Goniff.
"Hey! You was holdin' out! Cheify here divvied up."
"Only 'cause we made him! Look, soon as the Warden here turned his back I was gonna let you all in on it..." Casino landed an almost friendly blow on the pick pocket's shoulder. "We're partners, right?
Goniff gave a half believing laugh and glanced at Actor and Chief, they weren't falling for that any more than he was. "Right you are, mate! Partners."
ggg
Rawlins fixed his eyes on the door of the truck as it opened, "Glad to see you made it back, sir." A report had already reached him, he knew there was one less man on the back of the truck.
"You mean surprised to see we made it back, don't you Sergeant?" Garrison returned the Sergeant Major's salute and started for the back of the truck calling over his shoulder. "So, who won the pool?" He'd already sent word through the underground. It was no surprise to the crew here at the mansion that there was one less man, no surprise which one hadn't made it back.
"Pool, sir?" His NCO flushed red to the roots of his hair. "I don't know what you mean, sir."
The Lieutenant turned and leaned against the truck, "Come now, Sergeant! You aren't going to stand there and tell me you didn't know about the pool?" It was a bit of black humor most special units engaged in... settling a bet on the odds of a group or an individual's chances of making it through an assignment alive. Even though playing out this little scenario wouldn't bring Wheeler back it would help the ones left behind deal with it. Wheeler wasn't a soldier, he wasn't even liked by the soldiers who made up the detail out here, none of the men were, but he'd gone out and he hadn't come back. That brought things a little too close to home for comfort. Making a joke out of it helped them feel like death couldn't touch them. Garrison understood that even though he knew it wasn't true.
"Well, yes, sir, I knew about it, but..." Gil watched the American officer for a moment. They hadn't worked together very long, he wasn't sure he could read him yet. He knew he'd been in North Africa. Rawlins knew he'd lost men before. The look on the Lieutenant's face was dead serious...still... He decided to take a chance. "But I'm surprised you knew about it, sir."
Garrison finally laughed, "Knew about it? I'm in it!" And as they fell in side by side and continued to the back of the locked truck he confided. "Took some talking to get Corporal Santos to let me in, but I convinced him right before we left."
The transport from the airfield had backed into the steps leading up to the manor, guards were posted on either side of the truck and pairs were spotted along the stairs with the last one stationed in the entry. The base was a strange one, set up more to keep the men housed here in, than to keep curious civilians or threats from the outside out. The house had been fitted with bars on the windows of the rooms the men would use, and the heavy antique locks supplemented with new modern ones that only operated from the outside in deference to the supposed skills of one of the inmates...ah.., members of the special team. Other modifications had been put in place that made the house and grounds feel much more like a prison than a military base and some of the men who had been assigned here had been selected because they had experience either as guards in prisons, or as peace officers, here in England or over in the States. Sergeant Major Gilbert Rawlins had neither...
Rawlins had been talked into this job because of his skills as a training instructor and success as a commando. The Yank Lieutenant waiting for him to unlock the truck had come to him while he was still convalescing and explained a little bit about the assignment, told him there was a team of 'specialists' coming from America to do a job for the military. They'd need an intense course of training to get them ready for their mission, he said, and he told him he was just the man for the job... neglecting to mention until it was too late that the 'specialists' were all criminals let loose from prisons across America.
As he reached into his pocket to retrieve the keys to unlock the tall tailgate that covered most of the back of the truck Gil looked up at his commanding officer. "Beggin' your pardon sir, but about your bet?"
"Yes, Sergeant Major."
"What number did you bet, sir, if I might ask?" The pool was a grim joke the men assigned to the base started when they learned just who the 'specialists' were and found out a little bit about the mission.
"Can't see any harm in telling you, Rawlins, since I won't pick the same number again." Craig smiled at the change in the Sergeant's complexion.. He'd gone from red faced embarrassment to slightly pale disbelief. Guess he didn't really believe this job would run longer than the one mission either, he thought. "I had Zero, Sergeant."
Gil froze with his hand half way to the lock and turned to stare at the young man standing next to him. "Zero, sir?!"
Reaching out Garrison retrieved the keys that were dangling from his British NCO's hand and started working the lock. "Well, the spot was open, and you'll have to admit I had a pretty good chance of hitting it big."
"But, ... Zero, sir?" Rawlins swallowed hard and moved forward to take the keys back and finish his job. He followed the Lieutenant with his eyes as the young officer stepped back. The men had their doubts about ever seeing this group again... At least not all of them, that's how the betting got started. But for the Lieutenant to be the one to buy the spot that turned on none of them getting back... And to stand there and make a joke about it? "I don't believe the men will be having another pool, sir."
The Lieutenant shrugged slightly and continued to smile at him. "Might be wise, Sergeant, it'd be too hard to figure. I don't think this group is going to follow the odds."
Gil finally relaxed and smiled back, "No sir," and turned back to the forgotten lock, only to stop again and frown at the young officer standing there. "Sir? Just how were you going to collect on your bet if you'd won?!"
Garrison ignored the question and threw the canvass flap back as Rawlins let the tailgate down. He stepped back and waited for the men to jump out of the truck as each of them was released from the handcuff that secured him. He watched as they lined up and waited for the Sergeant Major to secure them to the chain for their trip inside. After following the group up the steps into the mansion Craig made a detour to use the phone and another stop to talk to one of the guards before taking the stairs to the upper floor. He arrived just as Gil had ordered the men to their cots so he could attach the leg irons.
Craig moved up behind the Sergeant, laying a hand on his shoulder as he knelt in front of Actor. "That won't be necessary Sergeant Major. I don't think we need to use these any longer."
"Blimey! That's great Warden! You won't be sorry, mate."
They'd done what they had to do over there and completed the assignment. They hadn't given him any trouble on the trip back.... And he'd probably just made the biggest mistake in his career by officially volunteering to head the group up. "I hope not Goniff." but before the little burglar wasted one of his grins on him he continued. "The chains are off, for now, but the tracks stay in the floor. .... Just in case." And he turned on his heel and left them to their plotting.
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Garrison waited outside the door and took the chains from Rawlins, stowing them in the cabinet that stood in the hall while the other man locked the door on their little group of experts.
"Did the men give you any trouble over there, sir?"
Craig shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle, Sergeant." Then he wandered across the wide hallway and pushed open the door to the room the guards had been using when it was their turn to keep an eye on the cons through the night. Jergens appeared at the top of the stairs just as he'd finished his inspection and stepped back out into the hall.
"This'll do just fine. Clear this room out and have the men move my things in here will you Corporal?"
"What's this, then?" There was more than just a hint of suspicion in his voice as Rawlins asked the question
"Oh I decided it would be better if I was a little closer to the action for a while...." Craig said as his mouth quirked up in a quick smile. "At least until they settle in."
Rawlins smiled to himself. He knew the Lieutenant's assignment as head of this group had been temporary, the brass leaving it up to his discretion to turn it into a permanent arrangement. And the younger man had confided his indecision to him during one of their many discussions about how the men were doing on their training and what they might do to increase the chances that they'd survive their mission. Gil had even heard him on the phone, just before they left for France, telling his commander he still didn't have an answer and that he was going to let the group's interaction in the field guide him. Seems he'd finally made up his mind. "And just how long do you expect that will take?"
"Two days ought to do it."
"And then what?" Gil rested his fists on his hips and considered his new CO, it seemed their bet was back on.
Garrison shrugged. "Then I imagine I'll have a meeting in London."
"And I suppose it will keep you over night?"
Craig smiled at his NCO, "I expect so."
Rawlins continued to study the young man for a moment. "Lieutenant Garrison I suspect you are not a very honorable man."
"You may be right Sergeant Major Rawlins." They stepped back out of the way as a group of men entered the room and watched as two of the cots were manhandled out and down the stairs. "I'm not sure I've ever been one."
g
It was late. It had been after midnight by the time the squad they met up with delivered them to the harbor, then there was the ride out to the sub, transfer to that little sardine can and the trip back to England. Once they got on shore the Warden had to do a song and dance for the brass while they cooled their heels on the truck with the guards. So it was late..., or early, depending on how you looked at things, and they were beat. They stowed what little gear they had away but instead of hitting the sack the men assembled around the table that had been moved into the room and set up where Wheeler's bed had been. There was a case along that wall now and it held glasses and cups and a bottle of brandy with just enough in it for a couple of rounds of drinks... if they shared.
Casino turned and picked four glasses up in the fingers of one hand and snatched the bottle off the shelf with the other. He slid a glass across the table to each man and sloshed a measure of brandy into his own before shoving the bottle towards Goniff. Waiting until they all had a drink in their hand he raised his in a silent toast and took a sip, watching as the others followed suit. As soon as the ritual was over he knocked the rest of his drink back and rested his elbows on the table...
"Alright. Now Wheeler's outta the picture let's get down to it." He shot a look around the table then turned on the con man. "You really think we can get away from that guy and make a go of it on our own over there Actor?"
The European con man considered the men around the table but before he could answer Chief put a cautioning hand up. There was someone just outside in the hall. After a slight grating noise the door swung open and the Lieutenant stepped in, scanned the room and settled his gaze on them as they sat at the table nursing their drinks.
"You fellas better get some sack time, you've got a big day tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" Casino checked his watch. "It's tomorrow now."
"Which means you'd better get to it."
"What do you have in mind for us Lieutenant?" Actor interrupted before the others could get started on their arguments.
"Oh, I thought a little more time on the obstacle course." With a little live fire overhead to convince them to drop and take cover when he told them to, but he didn't mention that. "And Goniff needs some work on the firing range."
"Hey! I did pretty good over there." The little pick pocket protested. "I got that bloke on the tank didn't I?"
Garrison's mouth lifted in a quick half smile. "Yes you did Goniff, but your eyes were closed."
Casino turned on the cockney theif. "Jeeze! Your eyes were closed?!"
Goniff fidgeted in his chair a moment then looked up, "Yeah!" He huffed a bit of steam on his fingers and buffed them against his shirt. "That's natural talent, that is. The rest a you lot'd need t'be lookin' at what you wanna hit... I just hit it."
Craig lifted an eyebrow as he considered them, then shook his head. "Well, you'll get a chance to test your natural talent out tomorrow." And he called over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "But you'd better get that sack time because the party starts at oh-seven-hundred."
If they'd been regular Army recruits their day would start at five, but they weren't regular Army. The prison day started between six-thirty and seven and he didn't really care if they kept to that later schedule, it would give him time to get some work done before he had to worry about keeping track of them. And he would probably let them slide into seven-thirty, or eight tomorrow because along with that live fire drill they'd be practicing hitting their targets on the run through the course too, not just playing fast draw on the firing line. He wanted them sharp for that. Garrison pulled the door closed behind him and stood listening for a moment before moving across the hall.
Casino, Goniff and Chief all caught it...the Warden hadn't turned the key in the lock! They were up from the table and made their way silently across the room but they left it to their cat burglar to get the door open, that was his specialty. He carefully turned the knob, and with his eye already pressed to the crack, pulled the door open so he could see out. Goniff watched Garrison's back as he moved to the door up the hall and across from theirs. But he rocked back on his heels, colliding with the safecracker, when the man turned and gave him a little wave before going in and closing his door.
"What?"
"Blimey! He's moved his digs up here......."
The End
