THE BOXER: THE AFTERMATH
By AEIU
Ex-judge Milton C. Hardcastle leaned back in his chair as he closed the file on Frankie Kane. Now that the media had picked up the story, he knew there wouldn't be any question that Kane was going to be sent down the river for a long time. The press had always loved the story about Kid Calico, Olympic hopeful and son of ex-boxer Jack Calico. When it was learned that Kane tried to force the Kid to work for him by kidnapping his father, the public's reaction was loud and vocal. The DA couldn't add enough charges to satisfy the outrage about the criminal attempt to end an Olympic dream. He doubted that any jury would take less than a couple of hours before finding the man guilty, sending him to the big house and throwing away the key.
Hardcastle had been graciously accepting the congratulations of friends and former colleagues for sending another miscreant to the grey bar hotel. But only he knew how hollow those accolades really were. Because only he knew how badly he had missed the mark and how close it had come to ending in a disaster.
He supposed things had started going wrong at the very beginning. As soon as McCormick had told him of his prison friendship with Kid Calico; he had wanted to share his deep knowledge of fisticuffs. But McCormick being McCormick had to argue every point. Just like every other guy of his age, the young fight fan saw boxing as some sort of science experiment where boxers danced around instead facing each other man-to man and muscle-to-muscle. He wasn't sure why but the last time, the argument really got under his craw. He couldn't understand how one man could be so wrong about something so simple and so stubborn that he couldn't accept the truth when it was explained to him by someone who knew better. Maybe that's why he finally challenged McCormick to a match in the ring; to make him put his fists where his mouth was. It wasn't the worst decision he had made during the case but it could come in a close second. Hardcastle fixed his stare on the wall and thought back to that moment in the ring.
A Couple of Days Ago…
"McCormick," Hardcastle growled as he watched the pitiful performance at the far side of the ring. "Stop fooling around and get over here so I can hit you. The way you're dancing around over there, I expect Ginger Rogers to come out any minute."
The unenthusiastic pugilist stopped his fancy footwork and moved over to the judge. Hardcastle could see the reluctance in the man's eye but it warred with an equal refusal to back down from a challenge.
"Best get this over with quick," thought Hardcastle as he threw his first blow. Mindful that McCormick lacked the weight and experience to be with him in the ring, he didn't put his full might into the punch. At the same moment that his fist connected with McCormick's face, he felt a similar blow to his chin. His lower teeth cut into his lip and he tasted blood as it trickled from his lip. He quickly shook it off and prepared for a follow-up blow. When he re-focused his eyes, the sight he saw was so surprising that he froze in his stance.
McCormick had taken a few steps back from the fight. His eyes were opened wide as his gloved hands hung loosely at his side. He stood totally defenseless in front of his opponent. "Oh God, you're bleeding," he breathed, the horror evident in his voice.
Without another word, Mark turned on his heels and began to flee the ring; from the look of panic on his face it appeared he intended to run from the gym. Hardcastle stood back in confusion as Kid Calico ran to stop his friend.
"Mark, wait," shouted the Kid. "What's wrong?"
"I hit my parole officer," McCormick hissed. "You don't hit your parole officer."
"But you're in the ring, sparring."
"It doesn't matter. You don't hit your parole officer. It's like hitting a prison guard."
"It was the judge's idea. He's not going to report you to the parole board."
"He doesn't have to. If one word of this gets back to them, I'll be lucky if the only thing they do is revoke my parole."
"It's okay, Mark," the Kid coaxed. "No one is going to say anything. Come on back."
McCormick allowed himself to be pulled back to the center of the ring; ready to bolt at the first provocation.
"Looks like a deer facing down a shotgun," Hardcastle thought. If the fear in his eyes wasn't so real, it's be funny. "You got a good right hand there, McCormick," the judge complimented him. "Let's just call this a draw."
McCormick sighed in relief as he tried to flash a tentative smile. Suddenly aware of an aching pain in his upper cheek, he reached up and gingerly touched his rapidly swelling eye. "You hit me." he said in a surprised voice.
Hardcastle winced in sympathy; even though he had pulled his punch McCormick was going to be sporting a black eye. Suppressing the niggling seeds of guilt, Hardcastle answered, "Yeah, I did. That's what happens when you spar. I didn't mean to hurt you and it didn't mean anything. It's not going further than here. Okay?"
"Okay," McCormick nodded soberly.
Hardcastle leaned his head back in his chair and sighed. He hadn't realized that behind his cocky exterior, McCormick still had a real fear of having his parole revoked and being sent back to prison. Despite everyone's assurances, Mark had been skittish for the rest of the day. It hadn't helped that when they went to the police station; a couple of the officers had commented on the black eye and joked that the parolee had probably done something to deserve it. Hardcastle still remembered the inexplicit surge of protectiveness that welled in him as he sensed McCormick stiffen, uncharacteristically quiet and unwilling to bring further attention to his injury. He had cut their trip short before he laid into one of officers for their accusatory humor.
"Yeah, that fight was a dumb idea," thought Hardcastle, "but not the dumbest one I made." Hardcastle thought back to the mistake he had made which almost cost Jack Calico his life.
EARLIER THAT WEEK…
Hardcastle chuckled to himself as he drove the truck into Gull's Way. It had been worth every penny of his twenty dollar bet to McCormick that he wouldn't be able to pace Kid Calico in a ten mile run. At first, the non-athlete had balked at the idea of running so far but when it was framed as a bet followed by a suggestion that he couldn't do it; then the guy was willing to kill himself trying to prove he could. McCormick had huffed and puffed the entire way and, now that it was over, looked like they'd have to carry him into the gate house.
"What's wrong with you, McCormick?" Hardcastle shouted at the exhausted man lying in the back of the pickup. "You were slowing the Kid down. How's he going to make the Olympics with that kind of performance?"
"That's twenty you owe me," gasped McCormick as he clutched his aching sides.
"I don't know," pondered Hardcastle playfully as Jack Calico laughed at the look of outrage that flared on McCormick's face. "You were, at least, ten feet short of the entire ten miles. Looks like you owe me."
"Aw, come on, Mr. Hardcastle," piped up Kid Calico as he helped McCormick from the truck. "You know Mark did the whole ten miles."
"Well, if you say so, Kid," Hardcastle agreed reluctantly as he walked over to more closely examine the panting man. "Want to go another twenty on pulses?"
McCormick shot him a dark look and said, "No why don't you save this twenty and you can use it to bury me later."
"Can't take a simple ten mile run?" tsked Hardcastle.
"Said the man who rode the entire way in the truck," retorted Mark.
"Okay, boys why don't you hit the showers and meet us in the main house," ordered Jack Calico. He and Hardcastle watched as the two young men walked into the gatehouse; the Kid propping up a limping McCormick.
"Let's go in and get some coffee," said Hardcastle to Jack. "So we can talk."
Hardcastle savored the bitter taste of the coffee as he gestured toward the gatehouse with his cup. "The Kid's looking good out there today," he said.
"Yeah," agreed Jack Calico, "maybe too good. The word on the street is Kane is still claiming my boy will be fighting for him tomorrow. You know he's going to make another play to get him to go professional. And if he don't, Kane's not the type of guy who takes no for an answer. He'll want revenge and that ain't no way for us to live. So what are we going to do about Kane?"
Hardcastle breathed a sigh of relief. He had the same thoughts but wasn't sure how to broach his idea. "I've been thinking about that. At the moment we don't have anything solid on Kane. We need to catch him red-handed with something major."
"Like what?"
"Kidnapping."
Kidnapping!" exclaimed Jack Calico. "There ain't no way in Hell that I'm going to let no low life like Kane take my boy!"
"He's not going to take your son; he's going to take you."
"Why would he want an old washed up has-been like me?"
"He's going to want leverage against Kid and that leverage is going to be you. I'll bet he's got a couple of goons hanging around the estate trying to figure out how to grab you. So we let them."
"Then what?"
"With an ego like Kane's, he'll want to rub our noses in it. So he'll call the Kid and set up a deal to have him fight. But we'll have the Kid insist that he wants to see you before the fight to make sure you're okay. Kane won't want a distracted boxer fighting on his card so he'll bring you. We'll have the meeting in a public place so there will be a lot of witnesses who will see Kane bring you in."
"What about the fight?"
"The way I figure it, Kane will want to be at the fight so he'll have his boys take you back to his place. McCormick and I will follow them and get you out. Then we'll call the police and Kane will be history."
"But we can't go to the Olympics if we fight professionally."
"You can if the fight is done under duress. Once you testify, Kane will be out of your hair and you'll be able to train in peace and bring home that gold medal. Heck, we might even have you at the arena before the fight is over."
"When do you want to do this?"
"The sooner the better. Kane's got to be getting desperate. But you got to be careful. Kane will want to keep you alive as leverage but he might hurt you if you give him too much lip."
"Don't worry about me but how are we going to explain this to them?" Jack asked as he nodded towards the gatehouse.
"I'm thinking we don't tell them about this particular plan. They might not be so keen on the idea."
"Then I'd be worried what you're going to say when you tell them Kane's got me. But it's the only way we're going to be free of him. Let's do it."
A short time later as he watched the Kane's thugs' car drive away, Hardcastle had mixed feelings. The snatch had gone off without a hitch. He and Jack had made a seemingly innocent stop for a hotdog and, the next minute, Jack was being shoved into the kidnapper's car. Kane's men were, probably, congratulating themselves on how clever they were. He knew Kane had to keep Jack Calico alive if he wanted to keep the Kid fighting for him but there was still that small feeling of fear knowing he wouldn't be there for backup if things went wrong. After fixing the tires that had been shot out, he returned to the estate to face McCormick and the Kid. As soon as he parked his car, Hardcastle went straight to the gatehouse.
"You're back early," said McCormick as he sat on the couch rubbing his aching feet. He shot up when he saw the troubled look in the judge's eyes. "What's wrong?"
Kid Calico sensed the tension in the room as he exited the bathroom toweling his wet hair. He cast an anxious glance across the room and asked, "Where's my dad?"
Hardcastle found he couldn't face the naked fear in the boxer's eyes so he turned his head away.
Kid Calico grabbed the judge's shoulder roughly and demanded in a louder voice, "I said, where's my dad!"
"Fane's got him," Hardcastle admitted.
"What? How?" asked Kid Calico as McCormick moved to the Kid's side in support.
"Two of Kane's men grabbed him when we made a stop," explained Hardcastle.
"You just let them take my father," accused Kid Calico. "You said you had everything under control. You said that we'd be safe here."
"We'll get your dad back," promised Hardcastle.
"There ain't no we here," said the Kid as he pulled his fist back ready to strike out at something. "This has all been your plan and now they got my dad."
McCormick placed a calming hand on Calico's closed fist and said, "Take it easy, Kid. Hardcastle wouldn't have let anyone just take Jack."
Calico hesitated as he turned his eyes to Mark. "Kane will kill him."
Though grateful for McCormick's intervention, Hardcastle kept his voice business-like as he explained the situation. "Kane won't hurt your dad. He's too valuable. Any minute now, Kane is going to call and set up a deal to have you fight for him tomorrow. We'll record it and you'll insist on a meeting before the fight so you can see your dad. Tell Kane you want to make sure he's unharmed. Kane will have to say okay."
"What good is that going to do," asked Calico.
"I get it," explained McCormick. "Hardcastle and I will already be at the meeting place. After they take your dad out, we'll follow them and see where they take him."
Impressed with McCormick's grasp on the situation, Hardcastle continued, "Right. You go ahead to the arena for the fight. McCormick and I will free your dad, call the police and shut down Kane's operation for good."
"We can make this work," promised McCormick.
Kid Calico shrugged off McCormick's hand and thrust his finger into the judge's face. "I'll do this because I don't have a choice," shouted Calico. "But know this, old man, if anything happens to my dad; I'll spend the rest of my life making you pay." With that, Calico stormed out of the guesthouse.
Hardcastle let loose a guilty sigh as he turned to face McCormick. Instead of the condemnation he expected; all he saw was sympathy.
"Don't worry," said Mark as he patted the judge's shoulder, "I'll talk to the Kid. I know you did everything you could."
As he thought back, Hardcastle realized that McCormick's quiet support and trust had made him feel as bad as Kid Calico's accusations. But he had meant what he had said. He had truly believed that Jack Calico would be safe. He never imagined that Kane would be so corrupt and out of control that he would rather have the pleasure of punishing the Calico family than reaping the benefit of having a winning, though reluctant, prize fighter. The wire they had planted on Kid Calico had picked up all of Kane's instructions for the afternoon prize fight. At first, he didn't know why Kane was ordering the Kid to throw the fight so Kane could win a few dollars on some side bets. But he understood when he watched Kane's gorillas drive Jack to an isolated field and force their kidnapping victim from the car. Kane had ordered the Jack's execution to get revenge against the men who had defied him. Jack Calico had only been a few minutes from death when he and McCormick had raced to the rescue.
It was too reminiscent of the Tina Gray incident, just a few weeks earlier. He had lectured McCormick long and hard for the boneheaded play which had left the young man facing two armed killers. But now he had done the same thing. It was worse, because it wasn't him facing certain death; it was an innocent man who had trusted in his plan.
Hardcastle closed his eyes. "Maybe I'm not cut out to be the Lone Ranger after all" he thought bitterly.
His mind remained fixated on the dark image of what could have been, Jack Calico lying dead in an open field, until it was interrupted when a can of cold beer was plopped down on the desk in front of him. He looked up to see McCormick standing in front of him holding another beer and a bowl of popcorn.
"Stop moping," McCormick ordered.
"I'm not moping," denied Hardcastle as he noted the fading bruises around the young man's eye.
"You've been staring at that one spot on the wall for over fifteen minutes. Unless there's a John Wayne movie there that I can't see, I say you're moping." McCormick dropped down in a nearby chair miraculously not spilling any of the popcorn in the bowl and fixed his gaze straight into the judge's eyes. "You did good. Kane's going to the land of communal showers, Kid has more offers of sponsorship than he knows what to do with, and everybody's safe."
"It was a close thing. Jack almost bought the farm."
"He knew the risk when he agreed to your kidnapping plan," McCormick laughed at the look of shock that bloomed across the judge's face. "What? You didn't think I'd figure it out."
Figure what out?" Hardcastle hedged.
"That you and Jack set the whole kidnapping the up to get the goods on Kane. I knew there was something wrong the minute you told that story. Stop for hotdogs," McCormick scoffed.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Why didn't you?" McCormick countered. "You could have told me what you were planning. We are partners."
Still angry at himself for the perceived mistakes he had made in this last case, Hardcastle turned some of his ire on the parolee. "We're not partners, McCormick. You've only been here a few months. I'm not even sure how much I trust you."
McCormick leaned back in his chair and studied the judge with a cool eye. "You trust me," he said knowingly. "You just don't know it yet."
Hardcastle had no response to the words that McCormick seemed so sure to say so he tried a different tack. "What would you have said if I did tell you about the plan?"
"That you were crazy. Kane's a homicidal lunatic who's too quick to pull the trigger on anyone he thinks disrespects him. Plus it wasn't fair to do that to the Kid without letting him have a say."
"And you'd have been right," conceded Hardcastle.
"So you were wrong. You're not perfect. I've known that since you threw me in jail for driving my own car."
Hardcastle was pleased that he didn't hear the bitterness in the ex-con's voice that he had heard during the other times McCormick talked about their shared history in the court room. "But being wrong can get a person killed," he explained.
"And what would have happened if you hadn't gotten involved. They might both be dead or living under Kane's thumb. Plus you saved a whole lot of other young athletes from a similar fate. You got to take the bitter with the better and there was a lot more better than bitter. Now in about five minutes, Rio Bravo is starting," McCormick said as he smoothly got out of the chair, "and I don't know about you but I want to see Angie Dickinson in that saloon girl costume."
"Yeah, I'll be there," Hardcastle said. As he watched Mark leave, he realized the man was right. A lot of good had come out of the case. Mistakes had been made but too many recriminations weren't going to help anyone. Sometimes McCormick had the unique ability to help him see the forest instead of the trees. "Partners?" he said softly under his breath. "Maybe."
"I heard that," said McCormick still standing by the door.
"Then you were hallucinating," responded Hardcastle, "because I didn't say anything.
"Donkey"
Hardcastle grinned to himself as he went to join his friend in the John Wayne fest. Sometimes to be the right Lone Ranger, all you needed was to have the right Tonto.
THE END