AUTHOR #1
“I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars.” –Ernest Hemingway
My pistol was fully loaded. The only way to travel, especially in this part of town, with my profession. Before me, in the dark, I could make out where the brick ceased and there was an alley. This was the spot.
Cautiously, I made my turn, stepping from the sidewalk into the darkness of the alley. It was claustrophobic, dark as a tunnel, at the end of which I saw light escaping from a partially unhinged wooden door. This, I nodded again, was the spot.
Suddenly, there was loud metallic discord, like I had walked into a trash can. This, in my startled state, was my initial belief, before I had the senses to realize that my foot had touched nothing. I had withdrawn it in fear. A brusque shadow had emerged from behind the scattered debris of the alleyway. Before I had a chance to move, he was holding a gun inches from my face. One of McAllister’s goons no doubt, checking for weapons in the pockets of my coat.
“A warm reception, as always,” I murmured. It was so black in the alley that the clumsy thug did not notice as I removed my hand from behind my neck. I wrested the gun from his hands and, grasping the barrel, struck him in the jaw with it. A blow to the stomach and a kick to the head later, I was on my way through the wooden door to meet his boss.
McAllister sat on the only nice chair in the room, if you could call it sitting and not just heaping his shapeless form, hundreds of pounds in weight, upon the furniture. An ambiguous smirk was on his face. Four other hired hands stood about the room, serving dubious purposes. “Aha, our friend the detective arrives at last,” McAllister spoke to me cheerfully. “Tea, Mr. Jennings?”
“Your man just pointed a gun at my head in the alleyway and that’s sorta put me out of my highest spirits, I’m ‘fraid to say. Now either get straight to the details or all my services are denied.”
“And a pity that would be. However, if it arises we shall certainly make arrangements for you to stay here as long as need be.” The ambiguity vanished from his smarmy grin, sizzled and steamed in the air. I hated him. “I have proven myself the hospitable type, no?”
It’s hard for a P.I. to always be on the top of his game. I could have had a biting response. I could have lashed out at him. But I only responded in a calm and even voice. “Just tell me, McAllister, about the Flying Fish or I blow your head off. Your thug didn’t do a good job disarming me.”
“Now, now, cool that fiery temper. The Flying Fish is indeed the topic I have brought you here to speak about. I assume you know this much: it was a Spanish galleon. What’s more, it was a galleon transporting what I suspect might be the largest gift in the history of the world. It brought with it gold and rare animals from the New World, all of which were to be presented before the Pope, to thank him, to exalt him, and more than anything else to demonstrate to the world the wealth of the Spanish Empire. The ship fought off pirates, but terminally was destroyed in a storm and never reached its destination.”
“And today we’re searching for what? The galleon? The gold?”
“The galleon has been lost forever in the deep. One item, however, escaped in a smaller boat. Today it is in Los Angeles, right in the heart of the city where we now stand.”
“And how are you so sure of this?”
“I brought it here. But people are tricky creatures. It was stolen. I want it back before it’s sold. This is what the rather handsome sum I have offered you is intended to cover.”
“And just what is this item? And what do you want with it, to give it to the Pope?”
McAllister’s face wobbled about as he laughed the laugh of a man who has smoked one too many cigars. “No, my faith in the Catholic church ended some time ago, Mr. Jennings. I intend to sell it myself. As for a description, I will only tell you what will help you to find it. We do not need you growing greedy as well, now, do we?”
“Greedy? You’re paying me an awfully lousy sum to find the ‘greatest gift in the history of the world’ and then you turn around and call me greedy? I’m afraid I’d need to know what this thing is, McAllister.” I removed my gun from my coat pocket. “I’ll be taking my leave now. I’ll see you again, I’m sure. As late as possible, mind you, but I’m sure you’ll be around the next time some nightmare breaks out over the city.”
As I walked out of the room, McAllister began to speak again. “If you do not help us, I suppose we will have to fall back on Berkley. I hear he’s got some nasty stories about your past, Jennings. A tantalizing supplement if there ever was such a thing.”
These words mean nothing to me, until I see one of McAllister’s men open a closet and pull out a bound figure. Berkley. My partner. I’ve been double-crossed again. Double-crossed every which way until my professional life ceases to have any logical order at all. I’m swimming in a flustered sea of shadows and confusion. I’ll never know what’s going on.
“Berkley!” I shouted, and turned to McAllister. “You’re blackmailing him!”
MacAllister’s men took the gag from Berkley’s mouth and were untying the ropes when the knock came. McAllister sat up straight, his expression grim. Berkley was tossed immediately back into the closet. Police. I had been followed.
It was I who rather cheerfully opened the door. It was I who spoke to the police, and it was McAllister who sat behind me, trembling. What I told the police was true; Berkley had, indeed, killed a man. My heart pounded as I spoke this condemnation. I had worked with and respected the guy for seven years. But McAllister was right, Berkley had dirt on me, too. He had to be put away, lest his failures allow him to fall into the wrong hands again. I could do nothing about McAllister, but without help he would pose no further threat.
I had destroyed the only man in the room that was worth a grain of sand, the only one I could count as my true brother. He would serve at least twenty years for my betrayal, but I would be safer for it. The city would be safer for it. This was my gift to the state.