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The Protectors
“The Pinch of the Claw” by Martin Maenza
A large wooden shelf
along the back wall toppled away forward, sending a couple dozen video tapes
sprawling across the wooden shop floor. The two thugs who had shoved the heavy unit over laughed out loud as the owner of the rental store cried out.
“No! No! Please, stop!”
The third thug who was holding the older man at bay shoved him down to the floor.
“We told you, old man,” the punk in a dark
jacket sneered, “if you don’t pay on time, bad things could happen to you.”
“Yeah,” the fourth and final thug said between stuffing his face with the last bit of a greasy sub sandwich.“You should know how our kind of insurance works…”
“Don’t be a pig!” the third one said to his own, clearly the leader of the group.
“Okay, sheesh,” the eating one said, balling up the stained white
paper his food had been wrapped in and tossing it aside.
It hit the edge of the counter and fell to the floor.
The leader turned back to the man on the floor who was starting to rise.
“And you…” he accented his words by shoving his booted foot into the small of the man’s back. The old man hit the floor again with a groan.
“You missed this week’s payment, which means we’ll be back again in a couple days for collection. And this time, it’ll be double! Got it?”
He kicked the fallen man again, this time in the side.
The man lay still on the floor, his breathing shallow.
“I think he gets the point,” one of the other thugs said as he crossed the floor.
“Yeah, let’s roll,” the other said.He wound back his foot
and kicked one of the fallen tapes, sending it flying across the room.
Three of the young punks left the shop.
The leader followed them out but turned back to see the man on the floor starting to stir. “Remember: double in two days, or else!” He slammed the shop door behind him.
***
Walking arm in arm down 10th Avenue just near 49th Street, in the part of New York City
known as Hell’s Kitchen, on a late September afternoon was a young couple.
The man was a well-built, dark skinned
African-American and had lived in this part of the city for the better part of
a year.The woman was a raven haired Caucasian beauty, tall and statuesque.
They talked amongst themselves as they went along their way.
“So, you got a letter today from Karen?” Crystal Tofana asked.
“Yup,” Jerry Page replied.“My little sister is down in
South America with a missionary group. Said she wanted to try to
help out those living in poverty while she straightened her own head out.”
The woman nodded.“I can understand that…”
Her words were interrupted when a male teenager across the way shouted out to them in
Spanish.“¡Hey señora bonita! ¿Cuándo le acaban con esa carne oscura, por qué no
intentar este enchalada mexicano picante?” The young
man along with the other Hispanic of similar age standing next to him laughed.
Jerry turned and glared across the street at them. “¡Hey, hombre! ¡Retroceda!”
he replied back in Spanish.“Ella está con la inmigración. Usted
tiene mejor sus tarjetas verdes en orden.” The
two teenagers looked at one another and then ran off.
Behind her dark glasses, Crystal suppressed a smile.“So,” she said,
“what was that all about?”
“Nothing,” Jerry said, brushing it off.“Just some smart mouthed punks is all.”
“Really?” she said with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“So,” he said, changing the subject.“Have you given
any thought about what we talked about last night?”
“About your offer for me to move in with you?”
“Yeah. Karen’s room is just sitting there empty, and
there’s no sense in you bumping around Haygner’s manor all by yourself.” He paused and
then said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you bumped around the place.
Heck, you get around better than most folks I…”
Crystal smiled and gave his arm a squeeze.“Jerry, it’s okay.
If we’re going to make this dating thing between us work, you really need to relax about my blindness. I’m okay with it, really.
When I lost my sight back in ’83, it turned my life around for a bit. I no longer
could work for the LAPD as a field officer.
In fact, it made many of my former colleagues so uncomfortable that I
quit the force all together.
“Still, my life turned around after that.I found a new
job and acquired my special abilities. In life, you just have to play the cards you’ve been dealt, you know? Every thing happens for a reason.”She gave his arm another squeeze.
Jerry couldn’t help but smile.He touch and her words warmed
him through out.“Yeah, I definitely see your point,” he said.“I’ll try not to
worry about you.So, you want to be roomies or what?”
“Hmmm,” Crystal said. “I suppose it would be nice to have someone
to talk to.But before I move in, we need to talk about your choice of movie rentals.”
“What’s wrong with my rental choices?” he asked.
“Well, let’s see.First there was Red Dawn…”
“A nice film about defending what’s important,” he interrupted.
“Then Back to the Future…”
“I like stuff about time travel.It’s got a lot of fascinating aspects to it.”
“And when we didn’t rent, you wanted to see if Howard the
Duck was still in the theatres…”
“Hey! That film has levels of subtle parody that the average movie go-er will miss.”
“Jerry, don’t you see the pattern here?”
He smiled. “I don’t look for patterns. I just like what I like.”
Crystal laughed. “Okay, whatever. Maybe we should try something different for a
change.”
“Different? Like…?”
“A foreign film.”
“A foreign film? You mean with all those subtitles and junk.”
“Why not?”
“Why?” he replied.“Who likes watching a film only to have to read everything they’re saying?”
“Some of us don’t need to read,” she said with a smile. Je parle français.”
She paused in between languages. “Ed Italiano.” Crystal spoke them flawlessly
and then added one more.“Y Español.”
Jerry’s eyes popped at that last one.“Uh oh…”
She laughed and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for defending my honor earlier.”
He laughed himself.“Hee hee, you got me with that one,” he said.
They rounded the corner and reached their destination, a small neighborhood video store.
Jerry grabbed the door by the handle and opened it. “After you, my dear.”
“My, such good manners,” Crystal laughed. When they stepped inside, her
foot hit against a small plastic container on the floor. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Jerry said as he entered, surveying the situation.
The gray haired shopkeeper was down on his knees, slowly picking up video tape containers. The dark skinned young man quickly moved to his side. “Mr. Cordelli, is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing, nothing,” the man said, turning his face away to hid his eyes still puffy from tears of pain minutes ago.
Jerry frowned as he looked about.The old man had stacked up
a few of the fallen tapes.They might have been knocked off a shelf or something.
But the fallen shelf at the far end of the corner was clearly a clue as
to something more.“Nothing, huh?” the young man said.He rose to his feet,
moved over to the fallen wooden unit and managed to stand it back on end.
“It’s not like we get earthquakes or stuff out here that often.”
“No…no…” the old man said.“The shelf…it just gave way.”
Jerry checked the wall where the large bookcase fell from.
He could see the wall supports had been forced loose.
He wasn’t buying what Mr. Cordelli was saying.“Gave way…right,” he said as
he lifted the shelf and shoved it back into place. Even without the wall supports, it was still a pretty sturdy structure.“This wasn’t any accident, was it?”
“W-what?” the old man stuttered.“I-I don’t know what you
are talking about.”He quickly moved behind the counter and began to put some of the tapes on the floor there. Under his breath, he uttered softly in his
native tongue “Come sono andare pagare quei quattro truffatori?”
“C’mon, Mr. C, you can’t…” Jerry started to say.
“Jerry, let it go,” Crystal said softly. From the look on her face, he could tell she
was reading a lot more into the shopkeeper than he was.
“Okay,” he said reluctantly.“Can I help you with anything else, sir?”
“No, no, that’s okay,” the old man said.He wiped a few
beads of sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
Crystal sniffed, turned and then bent down.With her hand outstretched, she
felt about the floor and picked up something. “We should go,” she said as she stood up.
“You want to rent something?” Mr. Cordelli asked, trying to change the subject.
“No, not tonight,” she replied.“Jerry, let’s go.”
The shopkeeper let out a sigh of relief when the young couple left the store.
“Jerry,” Crystal said, “perhaps he was worried something more would happen to him if he did say something.”
“Perhaps.”
“Besides,” the young woman continued, “I think we have a few things to go on already.
Number one: he said something about paying four crooks.”
“When did…?” The young man paused and thought. He remembered the languages
Crystal spoke and the light bulb went off in his head. “Ah ha. So it was some kind of protection racket hit. You’re good.”
She smiled. “I know. Number two: what do you make of this?”
Crystal produced the sandwich wrapper that she palmed off the shop floor before they
had departed.
Jerry took the stained white paper and examined it. “Looks like a fresh made sandwich was wrapped in this.” He put his finger to the orange-tinted grease
marks and then put the finger to his mouth to get a taste. “Hmmm, kind of spicy sauce… not
just Italian but something more…”
Crystal nodded. “I thought that’s what my nose picked up,” she said.
“And a cute little nose it is,” he said as he reached up and gave her face a little tweak.
“Easy, tiger, focus,” she said. “So, you know of any place in the nearby
neighborhood that does meatball sandwiches like that?”
A grin crossed Jerry’s face.“Yeah, yeah, I do.” He took her hand and hurried down the
street.“We’ve got to make a stop first. Change into more appropriate attire.”
***
Night fell on the city and with it came the dark shadows - all the easier for some to move about unnoticed.
A black man with a grease-stained white apron over his clothes stepped out into the alleyway behind his shop with a bag of trash. As
he hoisted it into the already overflowing dumpster, two pairs of feet touched
down on the pavement behind him. In surprise, he spun about. “Who’s there?”
“Easy, Cookie, it’s me,” a voice said. From the shadows
stepped a young black man in a green costume and mask. Behind him was a masked woman all in white who kept to the shadows and the silence.
“User!” Cookie Johnson exclaimed. “You done near scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry about that,” the hero said. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted
to ask you somethin ’ is all.”
“Sure enough,” the man said, taking a pack of cigarettes from his sleeve and extracting one of the contents to place between his lips. He lit a match and then the cigarette in his mouth. “Could use a break anyhow.”
“Been a busy day?”
“Always busy when I’m short staffed.”
“Sold any of your special meatball subs, the hot ones?”
“A few, a few.”
“What can you tell me ‘bout the guys who came in mid-afternoon, about five thiry
or so and ordered one?”
Cookie hesitated.“Lots of folks get that,” he said, diverting his eyes.“How’s I
supposed to ‘member every customer?”
User smiled. “Come on, Cookie,” he said. “Don’t play me like that.
You’ve got a mind like a steel trap.”
“Maybe so,” he said, “but that don’t mean I ‘member those four any.”
Night Owl spoke up.“User never said it was four guys,” she pointed out.
Cookie nearly dropped his smoke.“Yeah he did! He said that number clear as day!”
“No,” she pointed out rather calmly.“He said the time of
five thirty, but you were the one who confirmed it was four guys.”
Cookie’s mouth hung open.
“Easy, friend,” User said as he put a reassuring hand on the older man’s shoulder.
“She’s good like that. Nothing gets past her.” He looked the man straight in the eye.
“We’re just trying to investigate somethin ’ that those guys got into later in the day.
Come on and tell us what you remember about those four guys.”
“Okay,” Cookie said, realizing he had been found out.“You’ve
been good to me, helped me out a time or two. I guess I can tell you what I know.”
“That’s the spirit,” User said.
“They were young, in their twenties or so,” Cookie explained. “Still wet behind
the ears. And they was wearing some of those new jackets.
You know the ones - they’re popular with the younger folk.”
“Leather?” Night Owl asked.
“No, no, looks like that parachute type stuff,” Cookie said.
“I gotcha – Members Only,” User interjected.
“Yeah, that’s them,” Cookie said.“But they were special, see. Had a little
silver somethin ’ over the chest pocket. Something extra I ain’t
seen on those that others wear.”
“What’d it look like?” User asked.
“Kind of like…I don’t know…like a hand but all pointy.”
“A talon?” Night Owl asked.
User frowned. “Nope, more like a claw. Right, Cookie?”
The cook nodded. “Yeah, could’a been a claw all right.”
“Steel Claw,” the User said, nearly spitting. “I bet those punks work for him.”
Cookie just shook his head. “I dunno nothin ’ about that.”
He took the last drag on his cigarette, dropped it and stubbed it out with his boot heel.
“Look, User, I gotta get back inside before the evening rush comes.
Sorry I can’t tell you more.” He started to move past the hero towards the door to the back of his shop.
“Thanks, friend,” the hero said as he clapped the man gently on the back as he passed.
“You’ve done enough.” After Cookie went inside and shut the door behind him, User cursed.“Damn! I should have known it was Steel Claw!”
Night Owl stepped closer.“Do you know who this Claw is?”
“Oh yeah!” User said.“He’s scum, the worst kind!”
“And do you know how to find him?”
User’s eyes seethed. “Yeah, yeah I do!”
***
The phone on the desk rang; the receptionist with brown hair teased out answered it with a heavy Jersey accent. “Mr. Dunbar’s office,” she said.
As the person on the other end made an inquiry, she glanced at her long,
painted nails. “Uh huh, uh huh. I see, but Mr. Dunbar’s in an important meeting right now.
Can I…?”
Before she could get out the rest of her question the door to the office flung open hard. In marched a green costumed black man. “I’m looking for Jake Dunbar!” he announced
in a not so friendly tone.Behind the User came Night Owl, a little less anxious but still firm in her resolve to back her colleague up.
The young woman glanced first at the closed door to her right and then bolted up in her chair. “You can’t go in there,” she responded. “He’s meeting with associates.”
User noticed her glance and made a bee-line for that particular door.
“Ask me if I care, cupcake.” And with that, he reached for the knob, gave
it a firm jerk and burst into the conference room.
Seated about the table were a number of men, most dressed in suits and a couple in stylized Members Only jackets. Possibly some of the punks that hit Cordelli’s
shop, the hero thought.
Most of the men, startled by the sudden intrusion, bolted from their seats.
At the end of the table, a black haired man with a mustache sat unfazed.
He was well-dressed, in a blue shirt with an open collar and a tailored vest that matched his pants. “Well now,” he said as he placed his hands on the edge of the table and rose in a calm, collected manner, “what do we have here?” His right hand was a
metal-facsimile of one had lost years ago. “A little early for Halloween, isn’t it?”
The guys positioned about the table laughed at this. They were a
bit more at ease now that their leader was showing a cool demeanor.
Night Owl stood at the left of her friend’s side.“User?” she queried, wanting to know where he planned to take this.
“We ain’t here for no fun and games!” the dark-skinned hero said in best ‘street’ mannerisms. “You’re messin’ in ‘hoods
you shouldn’t be, and I’m here to tell you to clear out, Claw! Right now!”
Jake Dunbar chuckled. “Hear that, boys! The guy in tights is givin’ me orders.”
The others followed his lead and chuckled too.
Dunbar cracked the knuckles on his left hand for emphasis. Then, he gestured with his metallic hand.“And look, he’s got a girl to back him up too. How cute.”
Night Owl was unimpressed. “I’m hardly someone’s decoration,” she said flatly.
“I guess you two fail to understand who’s in charge around here,” Dunbar
said. “I didn’t earn all that I’ve got today by backin ’ down or lettin ’
others walk all over me.” He gave a slight nod, and his men about the room pulled out handguns from within their jackets or from their waistbands. In a few seconds, every weapon in the room was aimed at the pair of heroes.
User and Night Owl made no reaction to this.
“Now, why don’t you two just go back into the night and disappear,”
Dunbar suggested, “otherwise, things just might get ugly!”
One of the thugs moved forward and pressed the barrel of his pistol against the side of Night Owl’s head. “Yeah,” he said as he licked
his lower lip, “it’d be a shame to mess up someone as pretty as you, baby.”
The blind heroine smiled.With lightning fast reflexes,
her left hand shot up and grabbed the gunman’s wrist. A quick application of pressure, and the gun fell to the floor.The man went down after it, his wrist and arm wrenched behind his back. “I’m not your baby, buddy,” she said coldly.
This put some of the other gunmen on edge. Fingers started to
inch for the triggers.
User grabbed the end of the table with both hands, lifted the whole thing a foot or so into the air and then tilted it onto its side as he shoved it to the right.
The guns went off, but the heavy piece of furniture took the shots and pinned the weapon wielders against one of the walls.
The hero in green, meanwhile, had reached out and touched one of the metal footings of the table leg. As he did so, he concentrated and took on the metallic appearance and properties of it. “Okay, Steel Claw,” User said with a
determined look, “its time for you and me to go mano-a-mano !”
“I don’t think so,” Dunbar said calmly.
With his foot, he pressed a button on the intercom box that had fallen
to the floor when the table was shoved over. Normally a little light would come on.
When it didn’t, he proceeded anyway. “Stephanie, please phone the police immediately.”
He glanced up at the heroes and smiled. “Tell them we have some trespassers in the
office.”
User fumed. “Coward!”
Dunbar smiled even more so. “Sorry, hero, but you’ve got nothin ’ to pin on me,” he said. “That makes me the winner of this round without having to lift a finger.”
“I’ll finger you…!” User started to lunge forward.
Night Owl placed a hand firmly on his shoulder and held him back.
She leaned in and whispered in her friend’s ear, “He’s right.
We can’t do anything now. We should go, quickly.”
User considered and swallowed his pride. “You’re right,” he
said.He then turned to Dunbar.“Don’t think this over, buddy!” He moved
towards the large plate-glass window. “I promise you that your empire’s gonna come
crashin’ down, even if I have to do it one brick at a time!” And with that, his steel fist
smashed through it.
He stepped out on the ledge and Night Owl moved to follow him.
Some of the thugs were about to take aim. Dunbar saw this, gave them a stare down and shook his head no. They lowered their weapons.
Dunbar moved over to the window and glanced out.
He could see the woman carrying the man off into the distant sky.
One of the men approached him. “Boss, what’ll we tell the cops when they show?”
“Not a thing, Louie,” he said. Seeing the perplexed
look on his lackey’s face, Dunbar laughed. “I bluffed ‘em!
The intercom was busted in the fall.”
Louie smiled after a moment, the whole thing registering.
“Heh , good one, boss. But what about those two stickin’ their nose in your affairs?”
“Not to worry,” the criminal leader replied.
“They can’t do nothin ’ if they can’t pin it on me. Most likely, they’ll
get so caught up in other things that they’ll forget all about me.”
The lackey nodded silently.
Across the city sky, Night Owl strained to carry her friend.
“User, uh,” she puffed, “think you can, ugh, ditch the man of steel look?”
“Oh, sorry,” the dark skinned hero who hung from her arms apologized.
He concentrated and reverted back to flesh. “Better?”
The heroine in white felt the weight more manageable. “Much, thanks,” she said.
Night Owl focused on flying them in the general direction towards
home. Then, after a few moments, she broke the silence.“You know, that
wasn’t the smartest move back there.”
“I suppose,” User admitted. “Building to the right.”
“I made that large shape out, thanks,” she said, having altered her flight path slightly. “Don’t change the subject. Why confront Dunbar tonight? I know you were upset.”
“I was. It’s just that I don’t like creeps like him
coming in and threatening the people in my neighborhood, you know?
People like Mr. Cordelli can’t or won’t defend themselves. They
take the abuse or pay the protection money. That’s not right!These are good
people, honest people. And when scum like Steel Claw come in and bully their way into getting everything they’ve work so hard to get, it just sickens me.”
“I know it’s not right.But my years as a cop, prior to
my losing my conventional sight, taught me that you can’t put creeps like
Dunbar behind bars for good unless you’ve got something solid to pin on
them. Circumstantial evidence won’t cut it.And he’s the type that’ll be
cautious enough to cover his tracks so that nothing can be traced back to
him. You’ve either got to catch him in the act or find someone that’ll turn evidence against him.”
“Or,” User said, “I could force his hand.”
“Force his hand? How?”
The dark skinned hero smiled. “Just watch. Over the coming weeks, I’m
gonna be on him like flies on garbage. If I can’t get to him directly, I’ll undercut
his operations.He’ll have to make a move, and when he does I’ll be there to haul him into jail.”
Night Owl couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s determination. It reminded her alot about how she herself was. I’m thinking this move to the East Coast just might be good after all, she mused to herself.