SILENT GUNS (11 page)

* * *

In fits and starts, a blue truck meandered down
Waters street. Harper watched it stop and park under a mid-block
streetlight. He sniffled as he pulled his collar up against a
bracing, cold wind. He thumped his arms; the thin, poplin jacket
offered no protection against the chill. He slipped a hand into his
inside pocket, just a nip, no harm, he thought, but his fingers let
the pint slip back. Two men got out, set their hand luggage on the
curb, locked up and walked back up to Eastlake, the main drag.
Waters street fell under the spell of streetlights as evening faded
into dark. A stray dog wandered from curb to curb, to nowhere in
particular, poking his nose into cans and loose paper sacks. Harper
felt compassion for the animal, alone, having to fend for itself.
An animal didn’t hate like a human. Feared but didn’t hate. He
hated Trent. He hated authority. He hated the Navy. He hated people
ordering him around. But, with five million in his pocket, he could
tell the world to stuff-it and the thought carried him.

It was shortly past midnight. Harper leaned over the
parapet and caught a single set of bright headlights. They moved
slowly, then hesitated, and then stopped alongside the blue Dodge
truck. A door flew open. A pair of legs showed and a beautiful
blonde emerged from a yellow Corvette with a black hardtop. Her
hair was pulled back tied with a topknot. She checked out the blue
truck then slipped back into the Corvette and sped away. To Harper,
it wasn’t important; she didn’t steal anything. A small nip
couldn’t hurt, he thought, again. No one would know. A coughing
spell shook him.

* * *

“
Hirsch and Graves are sleeping
one off. They will be here in the afternoon,” Trent said as he
slipped out from behind the wheel

“
I checked the truck. No parking
tickets,” Madden said. “Good thing the cops avoid the Point. They
only show up for abandoned or stripped cars.”

“
Where’s Harper?”

“
Sleeping in back.”

“
Get him up.”

Madden jostled Harper’s cot with his foot; Harper
struggled, sat up, put his head in his hands and moaned.

“
Another hangover, Harper?” Trent
asked sardonically.

“
Get off my ass,” Harper
cried.

“
What did you say?” Trent stared
at him in disbelief. Taking a step forward, he rebuked him mildly.
“I better have heard you wrong.”

“
Mind how you handle me,” Harper
stared up, his eyes bloodshot.

“
What was out there?”

“
The street was creepy. Aside from
the blue truck, a good-looking babe in a yellow Corvette drove by.
She looked lost.” Harper rubbed his face. Madden noticed a frown
cross Trent’s face.

“
Was she alone?” Trent
asked.

“
Near as I could tell.”

“
Did she get out of the
Corvette?”

“
Sure did. She checked out the
truck, got back in and took off.”

“
Anything else?”

Harper furrowed his forehead. “Didn’t see too much.
It was getting dark, nice legs. She stuck them way out.” He grinned
wearily at the recollection.

A heavy knock rattled the metal warehouse door.
Trent jumped up, gun in hand. He took a position beside the door.
“It’s us, Graves and Hirsch.”

“
In here, how was the
trip?”

“
The way Graves drives, it’s a
miracle we didn’t blow up.”

“
Trouble?”

“
A cracked water pump; but we made
it to Susanville and got it replaced. The State Patrol pulled us
over for a busted tail light. They got curious and looked in back.
The powder was all in sacks. Graves told them it was fertilizer. I
damn near died,” said Hirsch.

“
If one of them cops had lit up –
Kablooie.” Graves guffawed as he threw up his arms.

“
Were you followed?” Trent
probed.

“
Not so as I could tell. Wasn’t
paying much attention.” Graves replied, his face quizzical. “We hit
some long and lonely stretches. Had to pull off the road a couple
of times, but Maxie kept her running. Don’t know how we could miss
a tail.” Graves said, scratching his chin.

“
How about a yellow
Corvette?”

“
No chance.” Graves replied. “If I
saw one of those babies, I’d remember.”

“
Did you get out of Reno clean?”
Graves looked puzzled. Hirsch gave Trent a sharp look. “What kind
of question is that? We let out the word we had jobs in Alaska, if
that’s what you mean.”

“
What’s going on here?” Graves
snorted, looking around the room. Behind his back, he heard voices,
he turned to see Madden amble in, followed by Harper. Graves broke
into a big grin. Harper was ignored; his face
expressionless.

“
Get the truck inside,” Trent
ordered.

“
Toss me the keys, Graves.” Graves
reached inside his pocket, hauled out a single key and tossed it to
Madden. With the blue Dodge inside, the warehouse doors were shut
and the sacks of powder carefully unloaded onto wooden pallets.
Graves grinned and pretended to spit on his hands. His lips said,
“Come on, let’s get the stuff to where it’s dry and cool,” Graves
pointed, spotting a dry wall to his liking. “That bench will make a
good drying table,” Graves wiped off surface moisture. “Black
powder is dangerous when wet. The sooner we get it dried and
bagged, the better.”

“
Who needs a lecture?” Harper
spoke up.

“
Who the hell are you?” Graves
exploded.

“
Meet Ben Harper,” Madden
interceded. Graves looked Harper over, and then ignored
him.

“
I picked up a couple of rifles,
two M60 machine guns and plenty of ammo. Lucky the cops didn’t look
under the powder.” Graves laughed; Hirsch cringed, shifting on his
short, ungainly legs.

“
Any problem getting the stuff?”
Madden asked.

“
Not in my line of work. I can get
anything I want if I got the dough,” said Graves. “It’s a free
county. Me and the NRA are gonna keep it that way.”

“
You sound like a commercial,”
Hirsch jumped him.

“
Listen, I could start a war, arm
my own army and nobody would say ‘boo,’” Graves’ mouth curled:
there was a quick flash of laugher. Harper’s face remained
impassive.

“
You two check out of the Fairmont
and move in here,” Trent ordered.

“
Hey, I could get used to that
fancy place,” Graves added.

“
We’re a low budget operation,
haven’t you got the word yet,” Hirsch said.

“
How about spending some of the
dough upfront?” Graves volunteered.

“
You’d go soft as mush,” Madden
added.

“
Enough. We have work to do,”
Trent ordered. The rest of the day was spent setting up living
accommodations: bunks, a cook stove, tables and necessary utensils.
A small refrigerator was hauled in and stocked with beer, the only
convenience allowed. Harper added locks and latches and generally
secured the building.

“
Keep them busy, Peter,” Trent
said “I meet Newby in twenty minutes.”

~ * * * ~

CHAPTER 9

The whistle sounded as the Washington State ferry
Hyak
neared its Seattle Ferry Terminal. The ferry from
Bainbridge Island slowed, bumped, reversed, and then coasted,
barely easing under a car ramp that clattered down onto the ferry’s
steel deck. To Trent, the sound brought back memories of oil-hungry
destroyers fighting to hold station alongside the
Missouri
.
Refueling hoses would tear loose and whip about like live snakes,
spewing oil all over the deck. A man would be lost, snapped
overboard by a broken hose. Or a destroyer would get sucked into
the
Missouri
’s massive side, ripping fenders loose and
rending metal plates, steel on steel.

Newby knocked on the window of the red ‘65 Mustang,
opened the door and slid in. Trent sped away.

“
Jesus! What a week!” Newby
exclaimed, looking green under the gills. “The Brass is in a
frenzy. The bids are in. They’ll sign anything to get the
Missouri
ready on time. Nobody expected the recall and after
this weekend, all leaves are cancelled. Good thing for us, though,
Eh?”

“
Well! Do we get a
contract?”

“
How about the number two turret?
We’ll be all to ourselves. Conover wants contracts signed by next
Tuesday. There will be a contractor’s briefing this weekend.
Details, you know. Can you make it?”

“
I have a business trip coming up,
but I can put it off. I’ll bring Madden,” Trent said. “Any work
crews on board yet?”

“
A Yard crew started opening up
the engine spaces. It’s a tough job and could hold up the tow date.
The turret should be straightforward.” Newby held up a folder and
laid it on the car seat, “The diagrams and deck plans are in here.
I’m still running an inventory check of gun parts.”

“
Good. Here’s Harper’s latest
list.”

“
When do we take the
Missouri
?” Newby asked, his skin tingling with impatience.
“After I retire, maybe?” Newby laughed, his skin crinkling about
his eyes.

Trent dropped Newby off to catch the 1100 departure.
He wheeled the few blocks up from the Ferry Terminal to the Olympic
Hotel. Parking in the hotel garage, he shot up through the lobby
and headed for the Holiday Fur Shoppe. Trent whistled at the fur
pieces enticingly displayed on window manikins. The Shoppe’s
walk-in trade had money. Sugar daddies probably found it simpler to
reach for their wallet than say ‘no’. Trent patted his wallet. A
brunette sat perched on a tall stool beside a white counter trimmed
in gold.

“
I’m trying to locate a young
lady. She dropped in here about two weeks ago.” In the strong
sunlight and against the sharp green of a drape, she was
startlingly attractive. She lifted her heel until it caught the
stool rung. She leaned back and crossed one leg over the
other.

“
A friend of yours?” She asked
coyly.

“
An acquaintance. I dropped her
off here. I thought you might remember her.”

“
No, not really,” She muttered,
tossing the hair from her eyes.

“
Long blonde hair, pulled back and
tied in a knot.”

“
Oh! That one! Lisa Mallory.” Her
eyes narrowed to cat-like slits. “She’s not a customer. She works
for some company that collects money, overdue bills, I guess.” She
loosened her skirt and plucked it away from her thigh. “The owner
wasn’t here, so she chewed me out instead.”

“
Does she work nearby?” Trent
asked.

“
I hope the bitch is in big
trouble.” She slipped off the stool and crossed through a curtained
doorway. Trent heard papers shuffle. She reappeared and said,
“There’s no address, just a name and phone number. Let’s see, the
NARDO AGENCY.”

Trent gave a crooked grin then jotted down the phone
number. “How about mine?” she said, sliding up on the stool and
letting the slit in her skirt fall open.

Trent sighed, “Business before pleasure.”

“
Don’t be a dull boy.”

Trent didn’t look back, but checked for his wallet
safely tucked away on his hip.

* * *

Trent passed through Haury’s portals, but not before
catching a glimpse of a parked yellow Corvette with a black
hardtop. He marched up to the bar, a man on a mission.

“
Has Madden been in,
Charlie?”

“
Not since Friday.” Charlie tugged
at a beer tap, the glass frothed up and overflowed. He cut the foam
and slid the glass down the bar to a pair of outstretched hands.
The place seemed crowded to overflowing and the noise off the tin
ceiling almost deafening. Trent shouldered through a milling Friday
night crowd.

“
Hey! Stranger!” A soft voice
floated over gruff bar sounds. Unsure, Trent turned. She was
sitting alone. “Remember me?”

Trent said dryly, “One so attractive is not easy to
forget.” She raised her eyebrows at his comment.

“
Flattery will get you everything.
Join me?” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. They broke into
laughter. He wedged his legs into the booth and signaled for
drinks. He felt the electricity. She tossed her head back,
gracefully folded her hands and tucked them under her chin. Pulled
back blonde hair was tied in a knot. The mingled scents of freshly
washed hair and Lily-of-the-Valley perfume taunted his nostrils.
The aroma was doing a number on him. She looked even more
attractive than at the Olympic Hotel. Feature by feature, Trent
dared not confess she had been guilty of disturbing his
dreams.

“
I guess you wonder what a nice
girl like me is doing in a place like this?” She cooed, her green
eyes flashing.

“
Do you read minds
too?”

“
I wanted to meet you,” she said,
a coy smile parting her lips. “I heard you would be here.” Trent
tucked his finger between his collar and neck and tugged at his
shirt.

“
I will be forever indebted to my
benefactor, whoever it was. I too am flattered; but disadvantaged.
We haven’t been introduced.”