Dieselpunk: An Anthology (2 page)

“
Let there be—”

The dark exploded in blinding light from down ahead.

“Jesus!” Sal yelled.

Kennedy snapped his Zippo shut.

The light grew brighter. An engine rumbled in the distance.

“
We’ve been made,” Sal said.

A slamming door acknowledged Sal’s deduction. Both men shielded their eyes from the glare ahead, squinting into the brilliance towards imminent contact. Kennedy caught the clippety-clop of heels moving at a brisk pace — a woman’s pace — towards them.

“Ms. Shaw? Is that you?” Kennedy asked.

“
Who are you?” Her voice was sweet, yet with a firmness that told Kennedy he was definitely dealing with a professional.

But professional
what
?

“
Kennedy and Marchegiani, ma’am. P.I.’s. We’re supposed to ensure that Ms. Shaw has an uneventful ride home.”

Click.

Kennedy and Sal both knew the sound well. A revolver, most likely a service issue .45 at Daddy Shaw’s requisition from the LAPD. The shoe in Kennedy automatically did the math: fully loaded, she had only six shots with her hand cannon. She also had the upper card since they were two very brightly lit deer in her headlights and couldn’t see her for shit.

“Well, you failed.”

“
I’m okay with that,” Kennedy said.

Sal chimed in using his conversational singsong, “Sorry to bother you, miss. You want that we should just give your old man the news that you went separate ways or something? Perhaps shopping for bath salts down at the Third Street markets? They have this
exfoliatin’
effect that’s just
remark
—”

“
I can’t let you leave.”

Kennedy took a step forward.

“Stop.”

“
So, what? You’re just gonna off us right here?”

Kennedy and Sal both ducked down as the first shot split them, impacting against the rock wall and sending fragments into their backs.

“Jesus! Lady! Can’t we just talk reasonably about this? I gotta wife and three girls—”

“
There ain’t no reasoning with her, Sal! She’s just some spoiled rich broad—”

The next shot went to the right of Kennedy, a chunk of rock nicking his ear. He took it in stride, but felt a warm trickle of blood streaming.

She said, “That’s far enough! You don’t have any idea what you’ve wandered into, Mr. Kennedy.”

Two shots fired, four left. Her voice was starting to crack, too. Kennedy’s confidence grew. He had her.

He took another step. “You know what your old man does to people, doll?”

“
Stop or I’ll shoot you square, Mr. Kennedy. I swear to God—”

“
I’m sure you will, but that’s not what I asked you—”

“
Stop it!”

“
Jesus, boss! She ain’t playin!”

Kennedy ignored Sal. “Well, I’ll tell you what he does. He sits back while that scum wop Dragna sets his damned goons out all over L.A., ruining neighborhoods with their cathouses—”

“I mean it.”

“—
taking in protection money so that shopkeeps can barely feed their own—”

“
Please.”

“
Come on, boss, give her a break.”

“
Can it, Sal.” He turned his attention back to the woman. “But it
doesn’t
stop there. See, after Dragna’s goons take the money, then they go and bust the places up that don’t have enough to pay. That’s right, Daddy Shaw sits back and lets Dragna’s chopper squads loose all over Old Town in their gunboats till there ain’t nothin’ left but Hoovervilles—”

The shot slammed into the ground at his feet. Kennedy spat rock, but continued. She would’ve already shot him if that was her intent. His ears were ringing too much to tell, but he was sure that Sal was already on it, playing his own part out to the tee-of-the-word.

“I’m warning you, Kennedy. The next shot goes right into your eye,” she said, her voice quivering with anger.

“
Yeah, sure, doll. Oughta make Pops mighty proud of his little girl. Say? You know he’s probably got the PD casing you, too, doncha? I mean, how can a sweet thing like you
not
get around without getting rolled in a city crawling with scum like the ones payin’ off your father? You’re quite the Sheba, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

Silence. He was fifteen feet from her and could make out the curvy-girl figure of Charlie Shaw in full detail now. A faint sniffle answered for her. There was a part of him that felt pretty bad about making a beautiful dame like Charlie Shaw cry. But they needed her distracted.

Kennedy took two more steps. She had three rounds left and he was all too aware that he was dangerously close. She couldn’t miss if she tried.

He pushed it with a sneer.

“So what part do you play in
Daddy’s
twisted machine—”

PPPOOWWW!

Kennedy hadn’t really expected her to do it! A sixth sense told him to turn just before the hammer-fall, so that he caught the bullet in the back of his right shoulder instead of a head-on blow to a more vital area, but it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch! He grunted, keeping the pain stifled as best he could. His perspective suddenly changed; this was no poker-faced ante-up with some Dumb Dora. Ms. Charlie Shaw was playing for keeps.

Despite the ringing in his ears, he heard a chopped scream and abrupt
thunk
. That’d be Sal’s take-down.
Attaboy, Sal.

Kennedy turned back towards the light and ran, hand to his bleeding tricep.

Charlie Shaw screamed, “Stop! Get off!”

“
Boss, you okay?” Sal yelled over her.

“
Yeah, I’ll live.” He reached the Italian bulldog pinning the beautiful Charlie Shaw to the ground. She looked so helpless beneath Sal’s weight.

“
Hey, I’m good, Sal. Go on and let her up.”

Sal glared at the squirming girl, but pushed off of her.

“You make one move, doll, and your ass is goin’
right back
to the GROUND!
Capiche
?” He straightened his street coat, looked over at Kennedy’s bleeding arm with hurt in his eyes. “Ah, jeez, boss. She got you good.”

“
Ah, she grazed it. I’ve
seen worse, huh?”

Sal cracked a weak smile.

“Sure, but it seems like it’s always some broad, don’t it?” The shorter Italian bear swiveled back to glare at the young woman now in tackled disarray.

Kennedy flinched. It was true. He’d been shot eleven times in fifteen years of both police and private investigations. All eleven had been by some trigger-happy girl.

His eyes scanned over to Charlie, now standing with her hands behind her back and head lowered as she leaned against her Buick cab.
Cab?

“
Hey, wait a minute. I thought you took a hack like we did,” Kennedy said. “Where’s your cabbie at?”

“
I drove myself,” she spat.

“
Drove? But  …  how?”

“
I bought the cab from the driver.” Charlie continued to stare at the ground, her beatific features granite. A hint of angel still radiated from within her somehow, and once again Kennedy had a hard time believing how such a creature could’ve been a product of Shaw.

“
Just like that. Bought your own cab off the street?” He shook his head. “Must be nice.”

Charlie raised her eyes and he got to see them for the first time. They were deep green, like two emeralds.

“Well ain’t that just the bee’s knees
…
one way to save on fare, I guess,” Sal muttered.

“
Ms. Shaw, what in the hell’s going on here?”

Charlie’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right.”

“I’m
right
?”

“
About my father. He
is
a monster. The reason he paid you to follow me is because he wants something I have.”

Kennedy and Sal now hung on the words that would fall from that sensual mouth in the next handful of seconds. Charlie took a deep breath, then let it out.

“He knows,” she said, “that I have a force in hiding, prepared to take back what is rightfully ours.”

“
Wait a minute. You’re talking about the water? From Owens Valley? That’s preposterous!”

“
No, Mr. Kennedy. I’m talking about our city.”

Kennedy smirked. “Yeah? You and what army, toots?”

“
My
army, Mr. Kennedy. The one I helped create.”

It was a lot to take in. Charlie Shaw sat half in the passenger seat of her Buick taxi and Kennedy knelt down beside her with his jacket off, her heater safe in his pocket. Sal finished patching up the hole where Charlie’s bullet had taken a bite out of his arm and then helped him back into his coat. He slipped his hat back on and stood, Charlie’s eyes following him like a tracking tigress.

“Thanks, Sal.”

“
You know it, boss. But what do you wanna do with her?”

Kennedy looked at the small tunnel opening so far ahead of them. What
could
they do? Frank Shaw had paid half in advance to have her tailed. And that was the truth. Kennedy hadn’t been entirely up front with Sal. It was no parental escort/interdict job; it was
spying
. The money was just too good to turn down. And it was supposed to be an easy job. Hell, Sal and Marie
needed
that money.

But Sal had scruples, more so than Kennedy. He would never agree to treating an innocent girl like Charlie as if she were a criminal. Not being a father of three beautiful princesses himself.

So Kennedy had made that call, changed the script a little, and now here they were.

But he had no intention of following through. Not now. Charlie wasn’t just a mark, she was  …  different.

And then there was the
character
that was Charlie Shaw. Total loon. Adorable, but bats-in-the-belfry nuts-o. An army! Sure, toots. Whatever you say.

“
I’m curious about this army, Ms. Shaw.”

“
Then you have a problem, Mr. Kennedy.”

“
Yeah? Well, seems to me that you are going to fix that for me. Let’s go see it.”

Charlie glared at him.

“Well?”

She crossed her arms and pulled her legs into the passenger seat of the cab.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?”

She slammed the door in his face, almost taking his nose off to add to the missing chunk of ear and arm.

Sal laughed and Kennedy turned towards him. “You’re not helping, pal.” Then back to Charlie, “Hey, we’re not done talking about this—”

Somehow the small
thwup
of the door locking from inside was enough to silence his preloaded tirade. Sal was now leaning against the car backwards, laughing so hard that
no
sound was coming out of him, though his face was beet red and his eyes were two clams.

“
Aw, c’mon! Charlie! Open the — never mind.” Kennedy moved with as much grace as he could muster to roll across the hood, making a deliberate reach for the driver’s side door.

Charlie scooted over quick and slapped the lock just as Kennedy dashed for the handle. He tried it first with vigor, then frustration. She jutted her jaw defiantly at him, tight-lipped, from the other side of the glass.

“Dammit!” he said, slapping the door.

“
Well, boss—”

“
What!”

“
Ea-sy. Down, tiger. Hey, she’s a dame, but she’s still a woman, right?”

“
Yeah? Your point being?”

“
Girls tend to think more with their hearts than their minds—”

“
Dr. Feelings, yada-yada! What’s that got to do with us now?”

“
It’s that I’m not entirely sure just how well her plan has been thought out,” he said, holding up a set of car keys to dangle before both the now smiling Kennedy and the fuming Charlie Shaw. She pounded the glass and then sank down into the seat.

“
Whenever you’re ready, doll. Lemme know so we can talk about this army of yours.
Bueno
?” Sal called.

“
I think I may just give you that kiss myself, you big ape,” Kennedy said.

“
Yeah, well that’s kinda
funny
so we’ll keep it between us. Don’t tell Marie.”