= = = CHAPTER 8= = =
SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH
MAY 5, 1944
Max pushed open the back door of Crash, ignoring the bouncer's eye roam over her breasts. Prick. The area directly behind the club was a typical Seattle alleyway; littered with empty beer crates and cigarette cartons around the empty aluminum trashcans they were supposed to be thrown in but seldom were.
The streetlights across the alleyway cast an impressionists swirl of colors on puddles of spilt bear and semen that were pooled on the cracked pavement. Max's black heel sloshed through this as she stepped away from Crash.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
Max turned around to see Logan standing beside an upturned trashcan watching her with rapt interest.
"That's not how I do things," Max let him know. "If I wanted to bail on your ass I would've told you to your face."
Logan had to smile at her straightforwardness. "Well I'm glad you didn't." She was still gorgeous even in the poor lighting.
"Is that all?" she snapped. "Cause if this is your version of charmin' a girl I'm heading back inside."
"Some girls don't need to be charmed," Logan returned stepping into the liquid scum on the road. "They're already charming enough on their own."
"I'm gone," Max said having effectively lost her already short amount of patience. "Not that this whole gum shoe dealio hasn't been a smash but I've gotta see a bartender about a drink." She turned to leave but Logan grabbed her arm.
"Hey I'm trying to help you!"
"You're the one who's gonna need help if you don't let go of me." Max's words were a dangerous growl; one that said she had taken men out for less then this.
Logan released her arm, or rather Max yanked away from him. Her eyes were now on fire with livid anger. "I know about your connection with Colonel Lydecker Max," Logan told her.
/FLASHBACK: Colonel Lydecker paced in front of Max and Zack who were seated at school desks in a nondescript steel walled room.
"Before today you were nothing but street mongrels belonging to no one." Each word from Lydecker cut through the air like the release of a guillotine's blade. "But thing's have changed." He stopped pacing and leaned over the two kids, staring them right in their faces. "Because now your belong to me."/
"I don't know what you're talking about," Max feigned complete denial to something that she knew all-to-well to be true.
"I find that hard to believe coming from someone who has lied their entire lives."
Max whirled on him like a fast approaching storm. "One dance together doesn't give you the go ahead to start analyzing me."
"I know who you are Max."
"Oh well then please let me in on it cause I've been amnesiac up until now."
"July 1934; you were most likely a nine-year-old girl living a barely there existence on the streets when a convoy of Army officials pulled up on the corner you were sleeping on saying that you needed to be inoculated against the rising threat of Smallpox." Logan watched Max's expression shift ever so slightly but she quickly covered it up with a well-placed mask. "Except that when they took you to their facility you found yourself being subjected to gene therapy and thrown into military confinement with dozens of other kids Colonel Lydecker pulled off the street.
/FLASHBACK: Max looked around her tiny iron prison and into the faces of at least 15 kids all in cells like hers. In the next cell over to her was a blonde boy; 12-yeasrs-old with no shirt on because the countless needle punctures on his forearm had left them tinged in huge bluish-black bruises that hurt too much to make contact the sleeves of any shirt.
The boy met her eyes. His face held a grimace that he didn't dare release but still a lone tear fell down his cheek./
"So you know a few hard facts about me, so what? Are you planning to black mail me for the torture I went through as a kid?" Max's eyes were enraged and defensive. She had no idea how the hell a civilian reporter knew about what had happened to her.
Despite the tense mood of the situation Logan thought that Max's sexiness only heightened when she was pissed off. "I find it hard to believe that you aren't surprised that the Army Colonel who committed these tortuous acts on you was just cozying up to you at the bar."
"If those are cozying up techniques Colonel Lydecker's gonna have some serious issues with landing a date."
"He won't have time for one," Logan responded cryptically. "I did some checking. Your Colonel Lydecker called up a group of young recruits to aid in a covert military unit he calls Class X. But for a group of wartime soldiers they seem to have more of an interest in tracking down a group of street kids that escaped from one of their hosptial wards."
Except that it wasn't a hospital. Hospitals don't have steel cells. Max still held onto her swirling emotions with expert skill. She felt that if Logan Cale kept up his round of questioning she wouldn't be able to keep denying to true nature of what had happened to her all those years ago.
"Why are you telling me this?" Max asked. Denial had become one of her true companions throughout all the shit, and it was a hard friend to try and blow off.
Logan stared at her for an instant as if she had just asked him why he had been born male. But he broke out of his musings to answer her in a no nonsense real warning: "Because I saw three of these Class X soldiers enter Crash with Lydecker to look for you."
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
BACK INSIDE CRASH
The band had started up again playing the beginning base chords of "Minnie the Moocher".
"Ladies and gentleman," Bling's voice boomed sleek and hot into the mic by the piano. He had donned his white suit jacket, which flattered his sizzling coca brown body extremely well. "Give it up again for Miz. Original Cindy!"
The crowd started to whistle as the spotlight illuminated Original Cindy and her sensual voice cut through the air, getting all of the drunkards to abandon looking at their glasses in favor of looking at her.
"Hey folks here's the story about Minnie the Moocher,
She was a low down hoochie coocher
She was the roughest, toughest frail –
But Minnie had a hard as big as a well
Hidey Hidey Hidey Ho-"
The men in the audience echoed back Original Cindy's scat intermingling it with whistles and cast calls.
"Hodey hodey hodey ho-" Cindy growled out throwing her body back in climatic pleasure, thrusting her shapely figure back up against the microphone stand a second later.
"She had a dream about the King of Sweden
He gave her things that she was needin'
A rollin' home built of gold and steel
A diamond car with the platinum wheel-"
Cindy accepted the hand from Bling as she climbed up on the back of the baby grand and began to scat again.
"Hidey Hidey Hidey Hidey Hi-
A Hodey Hodey Hodey Ho-
Skit ta skit ta doodley skit ta zhoy-"
The crowd jumped to their feet in hooting impressed by her quick lyrical tongue. They were all so absorbed in watching the sultry woman throw it down on stage that none of them noticed Colonel Lydecker conversing with a group of young uniformed Army Privates by the bar. Lydecker pointed out Zack to them who had moved across the room in order to buy a stick of gum from the cigarette girl.
"I want him alive," Lydecker ordered in muted tones.
"Yes Sir," the highest-ranking soldier –a Lance Corporal – responded waving the other men over to converge on Zack.
As they pushed their way through the oblivious crowd Original Cindy grinded out the finial verse of her song on stage:
"They took her away – they called her crazy
Now poor old Min she is kickin' up daises
This is my my story – this ends my song
She was just a good girl but they done her wrong-"
"Thanks doll," Zack dropped fifty cents into the cigarette girl's money till for the stick of Wrigley's gum, popping the piece into his mouth.
The girl smiled at him through her cherry red lipstick, sauntering off to give Zack ample view of her legs with the seam line of artificial pantyhose drawn on with lip liner.
Zack had to admit that the girl had nice legs, but he caught the sight of Army green pushing through the crowd to get him and he soon forgot about her.
The lead soldier reached into his pocket on Cindy's cresendoing note:
"Oh yeah, Min-nie!"
Zack reached into his own pocked and drew out a .45 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun and aimed it them the same instant the Lance Corporal pointed his Colt Revolver at his chest.
The other soldiers all drew out their identical weapons and cocked them at Zack.
A woman in the audience screamed at the site of the armed men.
"Glad you got everyone's attention," Zack said cockily. "Now we can make it an official party."
"Throw down your weapon!" the soldier ordered.
"Now that wouldn't be a fair fight would it?" Zack stated.
Lydecker emerged from the crowd stepping right in front of Zack. "Oh I think it would be more then fair." He stared Zack down as if deciding whether or not to off a rabid dog.
The creaking of the back door was so loud that two of the soldiers from the group of four took aim with their weapons at the noise.
Max stepped through the door but stopped in a dead halt at the sight of the guns in her face. "Aww, you should've invited me to the to festivities."
"Come inside-" one soldier warned keeping close aim on Max and Logan as they stepped inside.
Logan quietly shut the door behind him all the while eyeing the Colt revolvers poised at his body trying to move as little as possible so as not to get his ass shot off.
Max took a long step closer to the Lance Corporal looking down the muzzle of his gun. "Is that a gun cocked at me soldier or are you just happy to see me?" Her lips pressed together in a sexy pout that she gave him ample view of.
"This doesn't concern you Miss," the LC hissed.
"What the hell do you mean it doesn't concern her?" Lydecker snapped approaching them pushing through the group of silent on lookers. All the men that had hooted and whistled provocative suggestions at Max now stared at her in stunned silence wondering what she could have done to warrant a gun battle on her.
"She's not what we came here for," the LC clarified to Lydecker. "She's a bar dancing slut for god sakes!"
Lydecker's eyes became even harder at that retort – not for the slut part but because the young tender foot soldier had no real idea what the hell his target was. "Rule number one of this game soldier-" Lydecker remarked glancing over at Max who hadn't moved from her position. "Never underestimate your objective."
The soldier was shocked. "Her?" He shot a sideways glance at Max in her tight black dress and sky high heals. "If she's the threat I have to take down I'll sure enjoy it."
"I've had enough of your bullshit Corporal," Lydecker growled in the man's ear.
"Defending my honor Colonel Lydecker?" Max retorted with her smart mouth despite all the guns trained on her. "You shouldn't have."
"I'm not," Lydecker returned coldly taking out his own gun – a five-chambered Beretta – and aimed it at her. "I'm defending mine."
The sound of another gun cocked – a silver Colt 22 grasped in the hand of Logan Cale. "Then I suggest you put away your gun or else you're going to have to defend a whole lot more then just your honor."
Lydecker wasn't intimidated by the weapon. Logan was only one man and Lydecker had four armed soldiers with him. It was an unfair fight, and that's just the way Lydecker liked it. "What do you plan to do with that gun son? If you so much as hover your finger over the trigger I will fix it so that the next mention of your name in the paper will be in the obituaries."
"What's the matter Mr. Army Man?" Max taunted. "Can't even do your own dirty work?"
Lydecker glowered at her so hateful that a lesser prissier woman would have started balling like an infant. He quickly flipped his gun around in his hand and rapped it across the side of Max's face causing her to reel back from the force.
A symphony of cocking guns echoed around the club as every pimp and gang leader pulled out their personal pieces they had stashed on them.
Lydecker looked around the room at all the weapons pointed at him and his men. "I thought you free thinkers didn't give a damn about reasonable violence."
"Reasonable violence they don't have a problem with," Sketchy aimed a .22 caliber rifle at Lydecker. "It's your whole shockingly rude manners towards a lady that's got them up in arms."
Even the straight up pimp beside his assortment of hookers glared at Lydecker from the barrel of a Smith and Wesson.
"Gentleman-" Max stated stepping in between the guns and Lydecker. "I appreciate you all showin' off your armories to defend a lady's rep-" she spit a mouthful of blood at Lydecker's feet. "But seein' as how I'm not a lady I've got some shockingly rude manners of my own to dish out." Max reached around to the back of a soldier's neck and snapped it with her bare hand. The soldier gasped and fell to the ground before he could even squeeze of a shot from his gun.
The other three soldiers advanced on Max but she knocked two of them to the ground with a kick to their heads from her healed shoes. The third soldier lined up a shot point black at Max's heart but before he could fire a bullet tore through his arm from Zack's gun.
The soldier looked stunned at the sight of his own blood oozing out of a neat little hole in his shoulder before he finally fell to the ground next to the still form of the man Max had taken out.
Lydecker looked down at his dead and injured men, not caring about them beyond the fact that he was now without backup. He looked over to Zack with something of a pleasing expression on his face. "You still have good aim Zack."
"No I don't," Zack corrected setting his barrel on Lydecker. "I was aiming for your balls. I wanted the challenge of hitting such a puny target." He now stood toe to toe with Lydecker, glaring down at him like the Alpha Male of a wolf pack.
Lydecker actually smiled. "I see you haven't lost your attitude either." He stole a glance at Max. "But then again you would do anything to protect another vagabond street rat like yourself wouldn't you?"
Zack pressed the cold maw of his gun against the side of Lydecker's head. "Ask me the question again." He turned his head to the people in the crowd. "You guys wanna lay down some cover for a fellow street vagabond so we can get out of this hot spot craphole?"
"We got your back," proclaimed a young West Indian born well built man in a navy blue zoot suit aiming a black Cobra handgun at Lydecker.
"I'll lead," Original Cindy stated climbing down from the stage slowly so she wouldn't trip over her long skirt but with with a manner of dangerous authority. She stepped right over to Lydecker and bitch slapped him. "That's payback for what you did to my girl. If I catch you knocking on her again I'm gonna skip the light dealio and deal a full blown smack down on your ass."
Lydecker didn't do anything after Cindy had slapped him knowing that she wasn't a real threat. At 5'7" and 135 pounds her biggest threat posed was her mouth. Original Cindy turned to Max mentally cringing at the thin trickle of red that had stained her friend's lip from where she spat out the blood. "Let's roll sugah," Cindy announced starting to walk to through the crowd.
Max started to follow Cindy but stopped when she was Logan following her. "What the hell are you doin'?"
"What? Do you think I'm just going to ditch you after things get a little heavy?" Logan answered. He didn't like the idea of being considered target practice to a bunch of hot head soldiers but he wasn't going to leave Max at their mercy.
"You'd be following in the footsteps of every other male," Max stated.
"Ladies less talk more walk," Zack interrupted.
Max glared at Zack but she was equal to his snide remark and responded: "Yes ma'am." She followed Cindy's trail through the crowd that had parted purposely for them.
Zack brought up the rear re-loading his gun chamber and cocking it at Lydecker. "If you try and follow us I'll make you a woman."
XXXXXXX
Original Cindy led the group following her down a small set of four stairs that led to a while long clapboard wall full of black and white photographs of great jazz legends that had appeared at the club. There was Billie Holiday, Prez, Jabar. Next to an autographed photo of Miles Davis sat a metallic silver sconce that Cindy grasped a hold of and after giving a solid tug the metal complied and bent straight out before pulling back into its former position. The wall that seemed solid just moments before now swung open by hinges that had been made small enough to be cleverly concealed in between the tiny crack slits in between the clapboard.
Cindy stepped down a single step quickly ushering in the others before shutting the door to the hidden room with a loped rope that had been embedded into the opposite side of the wall for just that reason. After the door was closed she started dead bolting it with three sets of tempered steel locks.
"You runnin' a moonshine business on the DL?" Zack asked watching Cindy bolt the last lock shut by the light from a naked bulb that hung from a wire in the middle of the ceiling.
"Original Cindy's not into the backwoods liquor boo," Cindy answered switching on a long beer light bolted over the false wall in order to give them more light. "Place use to be a Speak East durin' Prohibition."
The room was the size of a butcher's meat locker lit only by the two lights and the dimness cast long shadows into the corners where 15-year-old wooden barrels of Scotch sat covered in a thick layer of dust. A puddle of the bootlegged liquor had long ago leaked out of a poorly corked knothole in one of the barrels creating a sticky residue that stuck to Cindy's shoe as she walked over it.
"Sorry," Cindy apologized. "Since this dealio wasn't planned I didn't have anytime to straighten up." She pulled open a removable piece of metal that covered a spy hole in one wall. "This thing covers the bar," she informed.
Zack peaked out through the two carved eyeholes. He could see Lydecker by the stage saying something to his men but the distance muted the words so that he couldn't make any of it out.
"Now I hate to be a party crasher after I just gave you all access to my discrete crib," Cindy began, addressing everyone in the room. "But would someone please explain what the hell is goin' on?"