SILENT GUNS (19 page)

“
You guys go find someplace else
to bullshit!” a body raised its head, grumbled and rolled back
over.

Chief Wilson cracked a smile. “Well. Good luck in
retirement, Newby.” He cleared his throat with a series of small
coughs. “Let’s see the rest of the ship.” His severe demeanor
returned as he stepped out.

“
What’s in here?” The Chief
stopped.

“
Captain’s cabin.”

“
Where is he?”

“
Sacked out, I guess. He’s a
pretty old geezer.”

“
Is it locked?” the Chief reached
for the doorknob, a growl came from within.

“
What’s that?” he pulled
back.

“
The Captains’ got a German
Shepard. He lives aboard. The dog ran me off first time I came
aboard,” Newby answered, managing to cover a grin. “Ornery bastard.
Watched him chase another guy ‘til he ran him over the side
headfirst. Really watches out for the old man.”

The Chief scowled, then pulled his hand back.

“
Let’s see the holds.” He walked
aft.

On the other side of the door, Graves lay hunched
over, holding Hauser by the collar and pressing him up against the
door. Harper sat square on the Captain’s back. The Captain
struggled to throw off the lighter man and tip over a chair. Chief
Wilson moved to the forward hatch where Maxie waited.

“
Unship the hatch,” the Chief
ordered. Two seamen bent over and unloosened the hatch, lifted it
and set it to one side. “Hancock, check below.” The sailor snapped
on his flashlight and dropped into the hold. Chief Wilson turned to
the sound of a sharp snarl and anxious scratches on a wooden door.
The door was heard to hinge open and slam shut. Hauser came
hurtling down and off the foredeck, growling and snapping his jaws.
The second seaman reached for his .45, but fell away. Hauser
stopped short at the open hold and snarled.

“
Nothing down here, chief,”
Hancock reported, playing a light, “except some wooden boxes. They
look like coffins.” Trent closed his eyes.

“
What’s in them?”

“
I don’t know. They’re shut and
covered with dunnage.”

“
Well, then open ‘em up and
look!”

A foot lurched out and planted itself square under
Hauser’s rear end. The dog yelped and flew over the coaming.
Spinning in mid-air, Hauser, and with a quick, twist of his body,
the huge beast managed to land on all fours. Fangs were bared. And
he was mad. “Jesus!” Seaman Hancock rocketed up the ladder and
jumped to the deck. Vicious growls and snapping commotions echoed
around the almost empty hold. Maxie lifted his eyes to his
forehead.

“
That’s dandy, Hancock,” the Chief
groused. “You’re a freaking, real hero.” Putting his hands on his
hips and shaking his head, he ordered, “Check the aft hold.” Maxie
and Newby looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders: they
had emptied their bag of tricks. No one moved. Trent knew only God
could help them now…a light tarpaulin covered the powder and
weapons in the aft hold. Lift the corner and it was all over. Trent
deflated, perilously close to ‘fessing up’ when the helmsman jumped
aboard the
Helga
.

“
Chief,” he said. “There’s a
message from base.”

“
What is it, this time?” His tone
was miffed.

“
A ship broke loose and is
drifting towards shore.”

“
Tell’em we’re not done
here.”

“
Lieutenant’s orders. He says
pronto. He don’t want no screw-ups. I hear he’s in for a boot up.”
The Chief’s cold look burned like dry ice on skin. The
Helga
was Chief Wilson’s rare opportunity to assert his
authority.

“
Let’s go, men.” Chief Wilson
strode to the fantail, re-boarded the Patrol Boat and backed
off.

Maxie and Newby collapsed, exhausted in startled
disbelief. Madden and Harper shot out of the cabin. No one recalled
who started laughing first, but it was contagious. They laughed at
pure silliness, a look, a movement, and a word…anything. Tensions
blew away like dry dust after two long days of enough activity to
last a lifetime. Hauser licked Graves’ face. “A steak for you,
Hauser,” Hauser barked. The stars twinkled down, and tonight they
were lucky stars. Trent looked to the heavens.

~ * * * ~

CHAPTER 13

It was early morning, and not surprising, a definite
turn in the weather had settled in over Puget Sound. Banks of
ponderous, heavy laden dark clouds menaced boat traffic as far as
the eye could see. The
Helga
’s funnel exhaust quieted to a
muted whisper as she glided out from the sheltered waters of Rich
Passage.

Trent remarked, glancing skyward, “We should be
across before the storm breaks.” The
Helga
steamed steadily
on out into the unprotected waters of Puget Sound. Gentle swells
rolled up from the southwest as the winds tore free of the Olympics
to whip up waves. Lifted from beneath, the
Helga
seemed to
enjoy cavorting with each passing swell. Newby braced himself,
hands behind his back, outside Captain Larsen’s door. Maxie spelled
Graves’ at the wheel. Graves, Madden, Harper and Trent went below
and gathered around the mess table. Bruises and sore muscles were
nursed while replaying the day’s events. Trent dragged out a
long-over-due bottle of whiskey and set on the table. “Real hard
stuff,” Trent declared as he cracked the bottle. Graves sat back
and rubbed his hands together. Sighs sprouted as glasses rattled on
the tabletop. Lips smacked. Harper abstained.

Madden downed a quick one, “We damn near lost the
ball game. Didn’t anybody see that Patrol Boat coming?”

Trent stiffened and glared stonily. “My fault. No
way did I figure #41 would cover for #22.”

“
When the Chief ordered the hatch
cover pulled, I about shit,” Graves said. “Maxie saved our bacon.
Three cheers for Maxie.” They raised their glasses.

“
That idiot Hancock thought they
were coffins.” They laughed. “Did he think we were going to put
bodies in them?” Graves spilled his drink. “Easy Graves, that stuff
doesn’t grow on trees,” Madden decried. “Sneaky Maxie slipped down
into the hold and placed the box covers over the shells. He just
couldn’t nail them down for the noise.”

“
Maxie, did he have to boot Hauser
that way, did he?” Graves implored, a tone of concern. “I think he
screwed up his sex life.”

“
What took you guys so long on the
barge? Trent asked.

“
Man. We had couldn’t find the
right shells. The slate colored ones weren’t where Newby said they
would be,” Harper answered. “Slate-colored, what?” Graves
exclaimed, “You mean we were screwin’ around in there pickin’
colors? Christ! I woulda grabbed anythin’ just to get off that
creepy barge. It gave me the willies.”

Harper explained, “Slate is Common shell. It’s the
same shell as armor-piercing, except no soft steel cap and the
metal shell is thinner.”

“
It does make a difference,”
Madden counseled.

“
Graves grinned, “Who cares? After
one round, the City will be scared shitless no matter what we lob
at ‘em. We could throw ‘em a rock.” Madden shook his head, “Don’t
be a callous bastard, Graves.” Graves shifted awkwardly, “Those
shells came off the
Missouri
in ‘53. Do you
suppose…?”

“
Don’t worry, they last forever,”
Harper shot back.

“
Even if it didn’t blow up, I
guess a ton of metal sitting in anybody’s back yard is scary
enough,” Graves playfully tugged at his chin.

Harper said, “I found a box of primers, but had I no
luck on the firelock. We can’t fire without one. Newby said he had
checked the manifest, they have to be on board, somewhere.” Graves
added, “Too late, now. Suppose we don’t find one.” Graves eyed him
gravely. “Maybe we can come up with something that’ll work?”

“
I doubt it,” Harper said frankly.
“Manually or electrically, a firelock is a complicated, tricky
device.”

Graves lurched heavily to his feet, his legs
adjusting to the slow, prolonged rolls. The hull structure
protested and the deck vibrated more insistently as the thrust to
the screw was increased. “The dolly worked out real good,” he said,
straightening up, and flexing his back. “Almost like a shopping
cart in a grocery store.” He looked up, steadying himself against
the canted bulkhead. “What the hell is Maxie doin’ up there? He’s
gonna get me seasick.”

“
You had too much to drink. This
caper is so damned crazy, we just might just get away with it,”
Harper’s voice was edged with excitement. Suddenly, laughing eyes
were staring at him.

“
Whoa! Whoa! Listen to Mr. Downer,
himself.”

“
We’re a long way from home,
Harper.” Trent grunted, chilling his ardor. “But for Hauser and one
unshipped hatch cover, we wouldn’t be here celebrating.”

Graves added, “And if Maxie hadn’t shorted out the
ship-to-shore set and cut the line to the whistle, Captain Larsen
woulda spilled the beans on the spot! Hey! Commander. How about a
weekend pass? Eh! Maybe? I ran into this…”

“
Not on your life,” Trent replied
harshly, “not with the Captain confined aboard.”

“
So, what do we do with him?”
Harper asked, fingering a slice of salami. “Or the
Helga
for
that matter?”

Trent paused, and then rapped his knuckles on the
wooden table. “We guard the Captain around the clock. Confined to
quarters. Make sure he doesn’t get off the
Helga
. Madden,
make up a duty roster.” Suddenly, Trent stood up and threw on his
jacket. “It’s time for a serious talk with the Captain.” As he left
the cabin, Trent said, “Graves, you better relieve Maxie.”

On deck, the salt air invigorated him. The rush of
waves tumbling aft in a pell-mell splash of white soothed him. A
peaceful, luminescent glow of green and blue hues radiated from the
surface. Distant Seattle city lights winked through a low-lying
haze. Low hanging clouds, bleak, wet, and inhospitable, scudded
before a weather front bullying its way across the Sound. The
Helga
moved gracefully, a real lady, praised Trent. Lisa
intruded on his thoughts, he recalled how she looked, how they made
love.

“
Tony,” It was Maxie.

“
What do I say to the NARDO
people?”

“
Lisa knows we’re due in tonight.
She will be waiting.”

“
The money’s hidden. Only I know
where. Flora doesn’t know anything. I stashed it in ‘Frisco. I
didn’t want to gamble it away. It’s for Flora when I’m
gone.”

“
Are you thinking of making a
break for it?”

“
I don’t know! I could get past
them but—there’s Flora.”

“
They won’t let you skip town
unless they think you will lead them to the money.”

“
I can’t make it
alone.”

“
Are you well enough?”

“
The pills work good, but I can’t
keep on running.”

“
The pills?”

“
Heart.”

Trent said, “Even if everything works out perfectly,
we still need to get off the
Missouri
.” Trent eyed him
sadly, “You can figure the odds.” Maxie was a gambler and he
understood odds and he knew they weren’t very good. Yet, Maxie did
have choices, none of them good – and, he knew he wasn’t adept at
making the right call. Maxie was born a habitual loser.

The door to the Captain’s cabin burst open. Captain
Larsen charged out, a buff-coated figure, cursing fluently. Coiled
up like a spring his face reflected the anguish of a man about to
lose his all...his ship. The Captain’s principles had been tested
and not found wanting. He could not be faulted for his reactions.
Trent turned and faced him. Larsen stopped abruptly.

“
Captain Larsen,” Trent said,
calmly. Big, hunched over and menacing, the Captain stood squared
off. “Shall we go into your cabin? Maxie, bring us some coffee.
Captain, have you eaten?”

“
I’m not hungry,” the Captain
said, dourly, his voice one tone lower. He re-entered his cabin
leaving the door ajar. Maxie, with mouth agape, headed with haste
to the galley. The Captain sat uncomfortably on the edge of his
chair. Hauser wagged his tail, then curled up at the Captain’s
feet. Trent chose to stand.

“
Captain. You are confined you to
your cabin until we finish unloading.” The Captain had been
drinking. Two empty bottles rolled with the ship’s movement.
Courage found in a bottle.

“
You’re a liar,” the Captain
slurred his speech. “If it ain’t you lying, it’s people like
Schiller.” His face was set and sullen. “You are all scum!” He
poured himself another drink, the liquor missing the glass spilling
onto his trouser leg. Hauser shifted to the other side of the
cabin.

“
I plan on releasing you with the
Helga
and $55,000. You can tell the authorities whatever you
want,” Trent said. “However; give me any trouble - No money! No
Helga
! Is that clear?” The Captain signed that he had heard.
Downing his drink, he shattered the glass against the bulkhead. “Go
away and leave me alone!” Hauser pulled his ears back and slinked
away behind a chair.

Maxie showed up with coffee and reported, “Locks
dead ahead.”