Target Practice
"Two Friday Specials!" Ivy ordered, pinning the sheet up to the over the window.
"That the last one for the day?" I asked, watching the clock. It was two minutes until 3 p.m.
"Yep!" She said, running tow glasses over to the fountain.
Two minutes on the dot, I've got a pair of our daily specials. Farmer's soup and club sandwiches. After completing a lot of the kitchen renovations, and cleaning up from the incident the other night, we were back in business and the customers were anxious to get back to their regular meals at the Little Daisy. Half an hour later the kitchen was clean, and the tables had been polished shortly after bidding our last customers of the day a good afternoon. Ivy counted the till whilst I did some minor repairs and sorted out the pantry. In the next day or two I'd need to restock our supplies.
Just then, we both heard a knock on the window out front. Standing there was Rocky, car parked on the street. Ivy rolled her eyes and got up to unlock the door. "Rocky, how many times do I have to tell you to go around back? We're supposed to be discrete."
"Yes, yes, I know. But I just couldn't wait to see how my favorite smugglers are doing!"
"Compliments won't help you, Rocky. Around back like everyone else, now." Ivy said, though a smile was on her face."
"Fine…" The tabby said, giving up and getting back in his car. Ivy locked the door again, looking out at the street to make sure no one was paying too much attention. "I still don't know why he insists on coming in through the front…" she said, shaking her head. I leaned my head out from the kitchen.
"Well, I would normally pin it on the brain damage, or perhaps the medicine I've been feeding him. But I take it he's always been like that."
"Frustratingly, yes. But what would we do without him?" Ivy asked. I stepped out, taking off the apron and washing my hands in the front sink. "Couldn't say for sure Miss Pepper. I suppose we'd all have to settle for an honest living…" I replied, giving her a wink as I opened up the book case. "But dishonest living is a bit more thrilling. Wouldn't you say?" I gestured to allow her down first while she shut off the lights.
"Yeah, almost getting shot in the face is thrilling alright." She retorted, "but at least I've got a couple of gunmen to do the dirty work."
"Indeed Miss Pepper," Rocky confirmed, bursting in from the garage, scaring us both half to death with his sudden entry, "Freckle is our muscle, and Ethan here is… what do you call it? Assassin? Sniper?"
"Oh, what was it Mr. Arbogast called you in the barn?"
"Lad?" I questioned, somewhat confused.
"No, it was, jeez what was it. Oh yeah, now I remember. You are our rapier among scythes. What does that mean, anyway?"
"Yes, that. Almost forgot about that one. It means that while our enemies and rivals try to cut us down like a farmer cuts hay, a rifleman is disciplined, precise, deadly. Like the duelists of old."
Rocky laughed. "Well, that's a bit too wordy even for me. How about I just call you, our rifleman?"
"Suits me just fine. Now, speaking of muscle, I assume you've brought our 'muscle' with you?"
"…Hi…" Freckle said, standing in the doorway to the back offices.
"Freckle!" Ivy exclaimed, hugging the poor boy half to death.
"Good, we're all here. Mind leading the way, master strategist?"
"Certainly. Ooh, this will be so exciting! I can't wait to see what you can teach Freckle."
Down the stairs, we entered the Lackadaisy. Riley was sitting off in the corner, doing her best to conquer that horrid subject known as algebra. She noticed our presence almost at once. "Ethan! Ivy!" Before I could tell her to keep studying, he was already up and hugging the freshman.
"Riley! Do you want rescue from… what are you studying anyway?" Ivy asked. Riley got a disgusted look on her face while crossing her eyes. "Math…" She said, driven to boredom by perhaps the driest textbook ever written.
"You might hate it now little lady, but you'll be thankful one day when you have a respectable job and not running around in the dark and rain like you're poor brother." I said, trying my best to make an ten-year-old understand the importance of school subjects, but even I knew that would be a losing battle.
"Oh come on, Ethan, let her join us." Rocky said, putting an arm around both girls. "Surely your sister has a natural talent with guns too."
"Not talent, Rocky, experience. But fine, I suppose a break from studying would help cure the boredom for the day."
"Yay!" my sister exclaimed, grabbing me around the waist.
15 minutes later we're in the back of the cave, isolated from the speakeasy by a network of limestone tunnels. Down here the sound wouldn't travel far, and a ricochet has minimal chance of causing any damage to something other than rock. My pupils, as well as the band members, are sitting and standing around the smaller room we're all in. Targets are behind me about 20 yards off against the back wall of the room.
"Alright, if this is the sort of work we're going to be doing, then it helps if you all know how to use a gun… except for you Riley, don't even think about asking to join us on a bootlegging run."
"Ah… but what happens if we are attacked again?" Riley asked. I walked over to her, crouched down to her level, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"If that ever happens, which it won't, right guys?" I asked, looking for some sort of confirmation from the rest of the crew, "then you are to run and hide." I then pulled out the 38 special. "But you ought to know how to use this as a last resort. Understood?"
"Okay…"
"Good. For now Riley, just try to have some fun. Let the rest of us worry about fighting the bad guys."
"Wait… aren't we the bad guys?" Freckle asked, raising his hand like a school kid.
"Is making a living a bad thing, Calvin?" Mitzi asked as she walked into our little meeting. Freckle didn't have a reply.
"Miss M, glad you could join us. Want to get in on the fun, too?" I asked.
"No, the ammunition would be wasted on me, dear. But after our success the other night, I wanted to see just how competent my rum running crew is."
"Very well. Now where was I?"
Ivy raised her hand. I rolled my eyes, being reminded that I'm basically dealing with kids right out of school. "Yes, Ivy, you can speak freely."
"You were about to show us how to use a gun." She commented.
"Yes, that's right. We're going to start training regularly with the firearms that remain in our arsenal, but a revolver like this one is the one all of us are going to need to use." I explained, holding up my pistol.
"This one is a Smith and Wesson, chambered in 38 special. Not particularly powerful, but packs enough punch to do the job and, more importantly, the ammunition is cheap." I then looked over at Rocky as I continued. "Good strategy will keep us out of danger, but pistols are the next best thing. We can conceal them just about anywhere, and this cartridge is so common that tracing a bullet back to one of us will be nearly impossible."
Riley was fascinated, Freckle was nervous, Rocky's pupils were dilated, but Ivy and our audience was looking a bit bored. Time to show them what competent shooting looks like. "With practice, each of you will become a competent shot. Then you can do this…" I whirled around, grasped the gun with both hands, and aimed for the first glass bottle. Five shots let loose in quick succession, each one bursting a bottle as I moved from one to the next. The cave amplified the sound within our confined space, better simulating how loud a shootout can be. My hands were shaking slightly afterwards, and I had to take a deep breath not to let it trigger any memories. Turning back around, everyone was covering their ears from the shock, but at least I had their attention.
"Was that really necessary, dear?" Mitzi asked, uncovering her ears.
"Yes, Miss M, it is. I want everyone to understand, right here and right now, that these are weapons. Guns are loud, they will give away your position the instant you use them. If you shoot, expect someone to be calling the police. Never treat them carelessly, or you will get hurt. Am I clear?"
Now everyone, even the band, were nodding their heads. "Good. Now, in time we will hopefully be able to do a lot of live fire practice. But for now, let's run through some dry firing and then we'll go through a box of ammunition once everyone looks comfortable. Rather than emptying the gun, I left the spent cartridges in the cylinder, so the hammer had something to hit.
"Okay, Miss Pepper. You're up. Show the boys how it's done."
Ivy got up, dusted herself off, and grabbed the pistol from me. Trying to replicate, we heard five consecutive clicks as the hammer dropped down onto the spent primers. Eyes steady, looking clearly down the sights, firm grasp of the handle.
"Excellent form, Ivy. You'd make a drill instructor proud." I complimented.
"Thanks. I've had some practice."
"In that case, I'll have you help Riley while I deal with the boys."
With Ivy and Riley going over the basics behind me, I pulled out a similar revolver from my other pocket. "Okay you two, time to learn how to use one of these things properly."
Calvin started to raise his hand, but I could guess what he was going to say. "Yes, Freckle, I know you've had some training. But we're going to try to do what the academy won't, show you how to keep your cool."
"Go on, cousin, it's unloaded. Perfectly safe!"
Freckle looked nervously between me and Rocky, with Rocky giving two thumbs up in approval. He also turned around to see the band hiding behind a rock. Mitzi had her arms crossed but gave the boy a smile. "Go on Calvin dear, you'll do fine."
Placing the gun in his hands, I gave him a pat on the back. I could see his face twist and curl. He was trying to stifle his hyena laughing when I took the gun back. Momentarily, Freckle was a hyperventilating, nervous wreck.
"Alright then. Well, you managed to stay calm for three seconds, so I'm going to go ahead and say that must be a personal record. Rocky, you're up! Let Calvin relax a bit."
Rocky jumped up at the opportunity. Now the band was really trying to hide behind their rock, and even Mitzi was trying to find some kind of cover. I looked Rocky up and down. He looked ready to… do something. Something reckless, dangerous, and stupid. His gaze was locked on the pistol, and I could almost see his imagination conjuring images of him being a feared gangster.
"Hey, Rocky, snap out of it and pay attention." I said, waving my hand in front of his face to bring him back to reality. "Remember, this is not a toy. It is a deadly, precise instrument. Abuse it, and it will bite you back or hurt someone you care about." I then place the pistol into his excited hands.
"Yes, yes. The band back there just as little faith in my abilities."
"Rocky, I don't know anyone who has faith in your abilities with a pistol. That's why we're practicing down here where a stray bullet won't fly halfway across the city and hit someone."
"Yeah, being in a confined space with Rocky and a gun is so much safer!" Sy said.
"Well if you cowards want to leave, then by all means, go ahead. You don't see the ladies hiding anywh—" As I gestured over, I see Ivy shaking her head as she holds Riley behind her and backing up. Even Calvin is making for the exit.
"Guys, the thing isn't even loaded."
As I say that, I remember that I gave Rocky the other pistol, which was very much still loaded. Five shots ring out as everyone hits the deck, tails puffed out. I freeze, closing my eyes as I hear a couple pieces of lead whizz past me and embed themselves somewhere in the ceiling of soft rock. Opening my eyes, no one appears to be hurt, but Rocky is quite surprised. Five completely intact bottles are still on the next set of pedestals.
"Huh, it must be broken." He ponders.
"heh… oops." I say, shrugging my shoulders as everyone else face palms. I turn my attention back to Rocky.
"Okay, lesson one. Don't trust your instructor to know if the gun is loaded or not. Always check it yourself first."
An hour later, and Rocky, Riley, and Ivy are dry firing well. Rocky is still somehow more scatterbrained than the child standing next to him, but at least he's keeping it down range. The band and Mitzi have left us to our work, and probably so that they don't catch a stray bullet from the grey tabby.
"Rocky, remember your form. Shooting in that stance is the reason why you didn't hit any of those bottles."
"Aw… but it's much cooler to fire from the hip!"
"Even Wyatt Earp says it doesn't work like that. Precision instrument, remember?"
"Fine…"
"Good, now try it again. Draw, aim, pull the trigger just like you've seen Ivy do it." Finally confident that he's not going to hurt himself or someone else, I return to Freckle who has been sitting on the ground, lost in thought at the bottle in front of him.
"Trying to destroy the target with your mind, I see…"
"I-I just… it's impossible to explain. When I get a gun in my hands…"
"You go crazy… yeah, that's a problem. That's why we're going to try this instead." I pull out an old rifle stock I found in the back of the armory. "This is just a piece of wood, but it will let us drill with it like it was a rifle. So if I give this to you…" I place it in his lap, and he just looks up at me confused.
"Ta da, you aren't going insane!"
"Yeah, it's just a piece of wood…"
"Exactly, but it's a piece of wood that looks like a rifle. At least now we can get somewhere. Now, Calvin, get up and point the wood at the bottle like you're going to shoot it."
Freckle did as he was told. "Good, good. Not going crazy yet?"
"No… just feels kinda silly."
"Trust me, it isn't. You'll be doing live fire soon enough. Now then, you've got good natural form, but move your feet apart a little more, and bring the buttstock up further into your shoulder pocket." Calvin complied.
"Now this is how you should be shooting. Even that Thompson will be more effective if you are using the sights. We can't afford to waste ammunition, so if we drill like this then in the field you won't be burning through a whole magazine at once. Still silly?"
"A little…"
"Well, it won't be for long. Now, if you are calm and collected, let's practice drawing, aiming, and firing a rifle."
I demonstrate, starting with my Springfield in a neutral position just like the old army manual pictured. In one smooth motion, I bring the buttstock up into my shoulder pocket, comb coming to rest firmly against my cheek. Cycling through the bolt in a fraction of a second, my spent casing is loaded from the stripper clip. The sights settle on the target as I exhale, pulling the trigger the click echoes through the room before I cycle the bolt once more. Empty brass flies out from the chamber as another spent case is loaded. I repeat the cycle three more times in eight seconds.
"Woah…" Freckle stares on amazement. How did you get that fast?
For a moment, I'm back in France again. Germans are advancing on our position. We've been cut off from the rest of our division, and we're stuck on a hillside, desperately clinging on to what little ground we still have left. The other two soldiers in my hole, also Montanans, are dead and the enemy thinks this will be easy. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. I go through a stripper clip in ten seconds, hot brass falling at my feet as five soldiers meet their fate.
"It's, uh, practice. Yeah, just lots of practice Freckle. Trust me, if we drill like this enough and eventually you'll be as competent a shooter as any cop in the country."
Freckle nods, a baby face hiding the hereditary insanity.
"Alright, keep drilling. Okay Riley, you ready?"
"For what?"
"Live fire, of course!" I could see her eyes light up. "But first…" I pull out some cotton I had stashed in my pocket.
A minute later, Riley is aiming at the bottle with two stuffed ears. I'm behind her, sitting on the ground while she stands directly in front of me, leaning into my torso for support. Ivy is kneeling, giving her instruction. "Alright sis, whenever you're ready. Just line up those sights on the bottle and squeeze the trigger."
Bang
The bottle explodes into a million pieces of glass.
"Haha, great job!"
"That kicked… a lot." She said, shocked by the power.
"Which is exactly why you aren't going to be using a pistol unless you absolutely have to or we are practicing, right?"
"Yes, Ethan."
"Good job kid. Rocky, let's see what you can do."
He holds out his hand confidently as Ivy, Riley, and Calvin hurriedly make their exit. I place a single round in his palm, much to Rocky's disappointment.
"One shot is all you get for right now, buddy. Make it count."
Rocky loads the revolver, clicks the cylinder shut, and takes aim.
The Marigold Situation
On the other side of town, smoke fills Asa's office as he puffs on a cigar. Mordecai stands nearby, the warm glow of the lamp reflecting off his glasses. He's been listening to phone conversations now for the better part of an hour but having some distance between him and the Savoys is a good thing after that close call the other night. There was just barely enough time to get the jewel thief hidden away. Serafine especially seems suspicious, he has to tread carefully and perhaps do something to earn their trust. But the click of the telephone brings him back from his thoughts.
Asa takes a long draw from his cigar before leaning back in his chair, looking over his shoulder at Mordecai. "Well, it appears we have two agents missing and two dead." Mordecai is surprised to hear the news, his ears perking up. "What happened?" He says, flatly.
"They were looking out for anything suspicious. Anyone who could threaten our suppliers in the area. Police found two of them this morning, car seems to have rolled into a ditch."
"So it was the weather then." Mordecai surmised.
"You'd think so, except they both had bullet wounds and half-empty guns. Meaning—"
"That there was a shootout."
"Exactly."
Mordecai now sighed. "I suppose you'd like me to divert all of my attention to this… inconvenience."
"Not completely. My superiors have sent someone over here to deal with the problem."
Just then, there is a knock on the door. "And he's here now…" Asa then took another draw from his cigar as a figure is let into the room. Mordecai looks him from head to toe, trying to get an understanding of who this new person is. An ally? A rival? A killer like him. As the cat walks out of the shadows, he removed his hat, revealing an unassuming face with the slightest hint of a scar on his right cheek under the coat of plain, grey fur.
"Adam, I trust you've had a pleasant journey from Chicago?"
"Express trains keep getting faster every year, Mr. Sweet. My boss said you have a situation."
"Ha, well, probably not one that requires a man of your talents, but always happy to have some extra hands ready. I can't rely on the Savoy's to do a clean job, and my shadow over there already has a lot of other matters to take care of. That being said, you two may need to work together, so Adam, this here is Mordecai Heller. I call him my shadow, but really, he's as useful as my right hand."
Asa then let out a laugh, remembering his meeting at the mill from earlier. "Just try not to do anything to annoy him. Can't stand wrinkled table cloth!"
Mordecai hardly found it amusing, but this Adam certainly looked the part of a competent hired gun. Asa then continued. "Mordecai, this is Adam Moreau. Detective, industrial security, and lately, an enforcer for the Chicago Outfit." Mordecai at once stuck his hand out to meet Adam's outstretched hand.
"I'm sure it will be a pleasure to work with a more… civilized professional."
"Thank you. I've been hearing stories about you, Mr. Heller. A rising star in St. Louis. I'm sure it will be a privilege to work with a talented young man like yourself."
Asa then clapped his hands together before taking a sip from his whiskey. "Great, and now with pleasantries out of the way, we had better get down to business."