Casino's Not Much of a Birthday
Chapter 1
"Aw, come on, Warden. I can jump. No problem," objected Casino watching the men putting on their jackets and picking up their gear.
"No, you can't, Casino," said Lt. Garrison. "Major Kaiser did not clear you. You're grounded." The young officer turned to the grumpy man, and his voice lightened a little. "If you hurt those ribs worse trying to handle a 'chute, we'd have to scrub the mission. Besides, we aren't opening any safes on this one."
"But, Warden . . .," Casino wasn't buying it.
"But nothing, Casino," said Garrison firmly. "You're not going and that's it. Now give it a rest."
The safecracker looked around at the other men; his friends. They were studiously ignoring him, including his buddy, Goniff. Realizing he couldn't talk or bully his way through this, he walked around the group. They were going to be gone a week on this mission. And if that wasn't enough, his birthday fell in the middle of it. No party, no celebration, no eating in a restaurant. No nuthin'. He threw himself into Chief's chair and had to concentrate hard to not show how much that stupid move hurt his ribs.
Now there were calls of "Bye, Casino," "Don't have too much fun without us," "See you later," as the men went out the door. Yeah, like they even cared? Nobody said anything about his birthday. Terry hadn't even mentioned it.
Garrison remained behind and looked at his sister, sitting on the stairs, arms crossed in front of her, mouth in a tight straight line. The Lieutenant nodded with his head toward his office. "Last minute instructions," he said. He walked into his office, not watching her slowly lever herself up and stroll in. She did close the door behind her.
Craig turned and spoke quietly. "Can you handle him?"
"Of course," was the girl's reply with a slight smile. "Unless he tries to sneak out the window and down the trellis to the Doves."
"Then take him," said Garrison.
"I intend to," Terry replied. "And the Fox, if I have to go in for any reason."
"What if you're given a mission?" continued her brother, watching her reaction.
"Craig, unless it's a direct order out of General Eisenhower's mouth, I'm already on one."
Garrison ignored that remark. "And you won't forget that other thing we discussed."
Terry eyed him narrowly. "What is your problem, Big Brother? You know I won't forget something like that. I'll take care of it. Now get out of here."
Craig grinned broadly. Once in a while it was good to jerk the girl's chain. As she looked around quickly for something, that wasn't too hard, to throw at him, he gave her an overdone grin and skirted past her out the door.
Terry sighed and left the office, closing the door again. She might as well get the dishes washed now the others were gone.
"What was that about?" asked Casino.
Terry stopped and looked back at him in the chair. "He gave me a list of things he can't get to. I get to do them for him. Paperwork, a couple phone calls in the next couple days, intel . . ." She gave a quiet un-lady-like snort. "Merry Christmas." She looked at him with a slight frown. "Why do you guys always come back on Christmas? You'd think the brass could at least give you one holiday."
"Don't ask me," replied the safecracker. "Bet they don't work on Christmas."
Terry hitched a shoulder. "Guess that depends on the Krauts."
"What's for Christmas dinner?" Casino asked.
"I don't know yet," replied Terry, not bothered by the conversation. "Any requests? And don't say 'pork chops.'" She smiled.
"Ham?" ventured the injured man. "If you have some. And no 'whistle pig' like you threatened for Thanksgiving." Casino cocked his head in contemplation. "I've never seen one. What are they? Rats?"
Terry shook her head. " No, they're giant fat ground squirrels, without much of a tail."
"So, why do you call them 'whistle pigs'?" he continued.
Terry grinned. "When they call to their friends, it sounds like a shrill whistle. I don't know where the 'pig' part came from."
"And you can eat 'em?" asked Casino, curiously. "Have you?"
"We have them where we live, but I've never heard of anyone eating them. We don't get that desperate." Terry chuckled. "Hey, I need to wash those dishes so I don't have to in the morning. If you want to talk, come into the kitchen with me."
"I'll dry," offered the safecracker, beginning to lever himself carefully out of the chair.
"No you won't," disagreed Terry. "You're going to rest those ribs. That's another of the instructions to me."
She turned her back and headed for the kitchen, knowing he would follow. She basically ignored him as he sat, just as carefully as he had getting up, at the kitchen table. There was still a pot of coffee staying warm on the hob. Terry took a clean cup from the cupboard, walked around to the stove and poured coffee in it. She set it on the table in front of the safecracker and took the sugar bowl off the counter from behind him, putting it next to the cup, before retrieving a spoon from the silverware drawer. She decided to allow him to use as much of the precious sugar as he wanted. It might put him in a better frame of mind.
Casino eyed her cautiously before putting some sugar in the cup and swirling it around.
"There's about a half cup left in the pot," said Terry, turning the hob off. "You want it? Otherwise I'll throw it out. I can wash the pot then."
"Yeah," replied Casino. "I can finish it."
Terry took a potholder and laid it on the table with the pot on top, within his reach. Casino watched her go back to the sink and start washing, back to him.
"I don't get it," said Casino with just a tinge of his usual annoyance. "I've had broke ribs before. Never stopped me from going on a mission. Why now? What's going on?"
The girl never turned around. "You never had cracked ribs on both sides of your chest before. If you jumped out of a plane and got jerked by the chute opening, you couldn't compensate for it. All it takes is one rib to break and puncture a lung. Ask Actor how good a chest tube feels. And how much longer it would take to heal." She cocked a look at him. "And the same goes for getting into a fight and taking a hit or twisting just wrong to do the same thing."
Casino gave a snort. "And just who am I gonna get in a fight with? You?"
"Wasn't planning on it," she shot back.
He couldn't see the tiny grin on her face. He drank half his cup down and filled it with what was left in the pot. "You can wash it now, Babe."
Terry turned and reached for the pot, setting it on the porcelain part of the sink beside her. Casino sipped his coffee and watched her. When she finished the glasses and cups, she took the dishtowel from the bar inside the door under the sink and began drying them, putting them in the cupboard when she was finished. The pot and pieces of the percolator went into the basin of soapy water next. It was easy to clean and she didn't want to wash it after the slightly greasy dishes. That done and set aside to dry more, Terry put the plates in to soak.
The phone rang in the other room.
"Terrific," said the girl, wiping her hands quickly on the towel and heading for the phone in the common room.
Casino just sat there. She wasn't being very talkative. He wondered if she was mad because she had to babysit him. Naw. When she was mad you knew it. He noted the dishcloth on the counter next to the sink and reached for it. It pulled on his ribs. Yeah, that didn't feel good. Still, he wiped the part of the table in front of him he could reach and tossed the cloth into the basin. Domestic wasn't his thing, but it was better than just sitting there doing nothing.
In a couple minutes, he heard boot heels clicking a staccato on the floor as Terry returned. Yup, now she was mad. Casino just kept his mouth shut and watched her skirt around him and look for the dishcloth.
"Basin."
She reached down and picked it out of the water. Terry paused and crooked her head around to look questioningly at him. He gave a slight shrug.
"I wasn't doing anything. I washed my part of the table," he said.
"Thanks," she replied. After wringing the cloth out, she washed the rest of the table. "I have to go to the Fox for a few hours," she said. "You feel like sitting there while I tend bar? I won't charge you for your drinks."
Casino thought he'd feel her out. "What if I say no?"
"I'll call Kit back and tell her I can't." Terry turned back to the sink.
"Warden told you not to let me out of your sight?" he asked in disbelief.
"Something like that," she admitted. Now she graced him with a wide grin. "Come with me and I'll let you sit on Beautiful's seat and keep me company."
He gave her a sour look in response, then grinned. "Yeah, I can keep you company. I promise not to get into a fight. Just don't call me 'Actor'."
"Won't happen, Babe," she said, still grinning.
GGG
An hour and half later, Casino was sitting at the end of the bar in the Blue Fox, on Actor's stool, nursing a half-pint of ale. Terry was working the bar with Kit. It was boisterously loud; so much so they couldn't hear the juke box. The place was full of American airmen. There was laughter, and drunken happy yelling. The Brandonshire regulars had bailed out of there before Terry and Casino had arrived.
"What are they doing here?" asked Terry, not disgusted by the amount of booze they were consuming, but by the noise. "There's a perfectly good pub outside the base." Again she was washing glasses.
"I think somebody, probably my brother, suggested they take it a little farther afield so they don't offend the locals," said Kit in disgust.
"I thought we was bombin' the heck out of Germany every night," said Casino. He didn't know which way to look. The rapidly getting drunk Yanks were as interesting to watch as the two girls running their tails off.
"Must be the RAF's turn," speculated the flame-haired sister of the airmen's commanding officer.
A lieutenant approached the bar and slammed down a pitcher with a little excess force. "Another one, please," he said with a grin.
Kit was busy mixing hard drinks for another group, so Terry turned around from the small sink, wiped her hands on a bar cloth and smiled at the man. She took the pitcher and began filling it from the tap. The young officer leaned on his forearms on the bar top and eyed her.
"What are you doing later, Doll," he said to her.
"Going home with my husband," replied Terry, cocking her head in Casino's direction.
Right on que, the safecracker gave him a squinty-eyed look. The officer straightened and put his hands up in capitulation. Terry topped off the pitcher and placed it on the bar in front of the officer. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and counted out some cash, putting it on the wooden bar.
"Keep the change, Ma'am," he said. Picking up the pitcher, he glanced at Casino. "Sorry, Buddy. Can't blame me for trying."
"Yeah, well, don't try it again," warned Casino.
The officer shook his head. "No problem." He didn't wait for any kind of response before turning and heading back to his friends.
"I'm married to you now?" asked Casino. "What's in the beer? I don't even remember proposing."
"We're married until we leave to go back to the Mansion, Charlie," said Terry with a grin breaking through her countenance. "You got a problem with that?" she asked.
Casino shook his head. "Don't worry. I know it would never happen in a million years."
The group went out, almost en masse, an hour before the regular closing time. The girls closed and locked the door. Terry grabbed a wet bar towel and set about washing down the tables. Casino got up and grabbed another one following her. Terry turned and snatched the towel from him.
"Sit down!" she ordered firmly.
"I can . . . ," he started.
"No you can't!"
"Um, why can't he?" asked Kit in confusion. She was all for more help to get out of there early.
Terry glanced at her friend. "He's got broken ribs," she said, and significantly added, "Both sides."
Kit's astonished face shot around toward the safecracker. "Sit down! And don't pick up anything heavier than a half pint."
Terry stifled a laugh. Especially when Casino looked at the red-head dubiously.
That was a little overboard, thought Terry, but it worked.
"Okay, Babe," said Casino to Terry, "I understand you knowin' about ribs, but her?"
Simultaneously, the two girls said, "Rodeo." They looked at each other and laughed.
The safecracker shook his head and went back to Actor's stool. Face it, he was outnumbered. Rodeo? He guessed it made sense.
GGG
The house was silent when Casino awakened the next morning. Painfully, he rolled over to look at the alarm clock next to his bed. His eyes widened. It was a little after eight o'clock. Pushing the covers back he slid his pajama-clad legs out and levered himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Might as well get up and dressed and go see if or what Terry had made for breakfast.
A few minutes later, he was coming down the stairs when the front door opened and Terry came in, with a shiver. She closed the door quickly, but not before Casino felt a swirl of cold air.
Terry looked up at him and smiled. "How are you doing this morning?" she asked.
"Not bad," replied the man. He watched her take off his bomber jacket. He had long since given up on telling her to keep her paws off it. It was probably warmer than her own jacket. "Where have you been?"
Terry hung the jacket on the coat rack and headed for the kitchen, with Casino following. She cocked her head slightly over her shoulder. "I haven't been exercising Italia enough lately. I took him down the road a ways." She gave a shiver again. "I hope it's warmer wherever Craig and the guys are."
"Belgium," answered the safecracker. "And I doubt it."
Terry pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. The hob was on low to keep the coffee pot warm. He took a seat at the table watched her retrieve two coffee cups and a couple plates from the cupboard. The plates were set on the table and the girl filled the cups with steaming coffee. She placed one in front of him and the other farther down the table. The sugar bowl was placed next to him.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Terry asked. "I only got two eggs out of the girls this morning. Too cold. You can have them and I'll make scrambled eggs from the dry for me."
"Why don't yuh save the real ones and we can both have scrambled powdered eggs," Casino suggested before taking a sip of the hot coffee.
"Bacon and toast?" the girl asked.
"Sure," Casino replied. He gave a dirty grin behind her back. "Did Beautiful leave any cheese?"
Terry glanced back at him as she reached for the skillet hanging above the stove. "There's some there. You want an omelet?"
Casino shook his head. "Scrambled's fine with a little cheese on top."
Twenty minutes later, the two were sitting at the kitchen table eating eggs and bacon.
"What are you doin' today?" Casino asked.
Terry shrugged. "To cold to hang laundry out. It's supposed to be warmer tomorrow. I'll do it then. I wasn't kidding before. Craig left me intel to do."
"Sounds like fun," said the safecracker in a voice that sounded like it was anything but. "You have to work the bar tonight?"
"Actually, I enjoy the intel, and no I don't have to work the Fox," replied Terry. She paused to take a sip of coffee. "Doves tonight?"
"I'm game, if you are."
After breakfast was over, Terry went upstairs and changed the linen on all the beds, taking it down to the storeroom where the washing machine was, dumped it on the counter and went back up for the dirty clothes. Casino watched her and wished he could bounce around again like she did. Instead he laid out his second game of solitaire for the day.
Terry came around the corner of the stairs and paused at the entrance to Garrison's office. Casino looked up and waited.
"I'm sorry, Charlie, I'm going to close the door," she said. "I don't know how many languages Craig left me. I do better without any interruption when I don't have my two interpreters around. If you need anything just yell loud or knock."
"No problem, Babe," he replied. He cocked his head. "Before you lock yourself up for the duration, just how many languages do you speak?"
The girl made a face, thinking. "Generic Italian, some Roman dialect, French, German, a little Mexican Spanish." She eyed him, "I know you speak and understand some Italian, and I don't think it came from your cellmate. Give. What do you speak?"
Casino debated telling her, but she had always been pretty straightforward with him. "I understand some of that 'generic' Italian. My dad and uncle were from Sicilia. I learned it as a kid. Other than what the Warden has taught us, I don't speak anything more'n English."
"Mob?" asked Terry leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Her tone of voice was interested, not accusatory.
Casino grinned. "That's why they left Sicilia. You know about the stills and the rum running. Dad and my uncle worked for Capone."
Terry's eyebrows rose. "And they taught you to make stills, blow up things, and not get caught?"
Casino nodded. He could see the gears turning in her head. "And how to rob banks when we needed money."
The girl straightened. "How old were you?"
He grinned again. "Teens and early 20s. Old enough to know not tuh get caught."
Terry shook her head. "Uhn uh. You broke out of prison twice before Craig got you out. It's in your dossier."
"Nosy dame, aren't you?" he said with a laugh.
Terry put on a face of innocence. "I just wanted to know who I was living with."
Casino nodded toward the office. "Go get your intel done. We can talk more at lunch. My turn. I wanna know more about you and that Shiv in New York."
Terry grinned and went in the office, shutting the door behind her. She went to Garrison's desk, pulled open the bottom left drawer to retrieve the packet of raw correspondence he had left her. Laying that on the desk top, she picked up the telephone and called the Fox. The conversation with Kit was brief. Hanging up, she took out a pad of paper and a pencil and opened the packet. There were pages in three different languages. She started out with the Italian.
In the outer room, Casino went back to his solitaire. So much for telling the guys he wasn't Italian. But then again, Terry probably wouldn't say anything to the others.
9