Longarm and the Deadly Restitution (9781101618776) Read online

  Mike Flannery pulled the collar of his dirty coat up around his face. “Sure turned out to be a dark and miserable day. I don’t envy you having to wait outside in this cold here while we’re inside where it’s warm and there’s beer.”

  “Go easy on the beer and avoid the whiskey entirely,” Longarm ordered. “The very last thing either of you need is to have too much to drink. I’ve given you the description of Bully O’Brien, and you shouldn’t have any trouble recognizing him. Whoever else is around him you can assume is part of the Shamrock Gang.”

  “I get that,” Henry Plummer said. “But what I don’t get is how we’re supposed to get friendly with those kinds of low-life criminals.”

  “I can’t give you an answer,” Longarm confessed. “What I do know is that you have to let them approach you, not the other way around.”

  “Easier said than done,” Flannery said drily.

  “You boys are smart and resourceful, so I’ve no doubt you’ll figure out something. But have a story ready to tell them and then stick to that story. Let them know that you hate the law and there is a reward on your heads. Have names and a little made-up background and make it sound convincing. Throw some money around.”

  “And where is that money supposed to come from, given the lousy salary we are paid?” Flannery asked.

  “Here,” Longarm said, handing them each twenty dollars. “I’ll get it back from the office fund. You might want to casually drop the word that you have robbed a bank or two in . . . oh, say Utah or Nevada. Being that the Shamrock Gang is just getting into robbing banks, that would draw their interest and attention. They’d want to hear how you did it and maybe pick up some helpful advice.”

  Deputy Flannery wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m ready.”

  “So am I,” Henry Plummer said.

  “One last thing,” Longarm added before they headed up the street in the lightly falling snow. “If either of you has any sense that they are on to your game, then get out! Don’t even think about trying to arrest Bully or his boys. Just come out and meet me right here. Is that understood?”

  “But what if we get the drop on them?” Plummer asked. “What if just Bully and maybe one other show up and we can easily arrest them?”

  “Don’t.”

  “But . . .”

  Longarm grabbed Henry Plummer by the arm and spun him roughly around. “Do exactly as I say. I know it would be quite a feather in your caps to make the arrests, and I am not trying to rob you of that prize . . . but you both lack the experience and you’re up against hard and deadly men.”

  “All right,” Henry said. “If they take us for the law, then we’ll make a hasty retreat out of the saloon and come running to you like a couple of scared kids.”

  Longarm didn’t like that response, but he let it pass. “Just . . . just stay sober and smart and you’ll be fine. Henry, you did buy a pistol and you do know how to use it, right?”

  Henry Plummer patted the gun tucked behind his belt. “Of course.”

  “Good luck.”

  Longarm watched the two deputies head off into the blowing snow. He was far more nervous about sending green deputies into a lion’s den than he would have been if he’d gone in all by himself. But the chance of someone recognizing him in that saloon was too great to take that risk.

  • • •

  An hour passed while Longarm paced back and forth in the snow. He pulled his railroad pocket watch out every fifteen minutes and watched the door of the Hammer Head Saloon as if he were a sinner pining outside the gates of heaven.

  Men kept drifting into the saloon, and finally Longarm spotted three that could easily be Bully O’Brien and a couple of his henchmen. Longarm’s nerves became tighter than piano wire and he paced faster. An hour dragged past, and he began to wonder whether if he turned up his coat collar and kept his face down, he might be able to enter the seedy saloon and go unnoticed.

  No, he decided, as much as I want to be in there in case something goes terribly wrong, I’d be putting their lives at even greater risk by entering the Hammer Head.

  Even so, as the cold hours slowly dragged by, Longarm would have given almost anything to be inside that saloon and see how his men were handling the situation and what was actually going on.

  “So,” the bartender said, pocketing a generous tip and wanting even more, “you boys are new to Denver and are kind of on the run.”

  “Didn’t say that . . . exactly,” Henry Plummer said quickly. “But we’re keeping our heads down and our guns loaded. Could be some Pinkerton man on our tail, but more likely some asshole from New Mexico.”

  “Always smart to keep a tight lid on things like that,” the bartender agreed, looking around as if he were a close conspirator. “But I get the impression you boys have done pretty well for yourselves riding the outlaw trail.”

  Mike Flannery pushed out his chest a little and raised his voice so that the Shamrock Gang members would be sure to overhear what he was saying. “Well, we have done pretty damned well for ourselves. My feeling is that some fellas are pickpockets and some are no more than petty thieves . . . but the man who goes after the big money is the one to be admired and respected.”

  Plummer had earlier agreed to play the more modest of the pair. “Now, Henry,” he cautioned, “even you have to admit that we were pretty lucky down in Santa Fe last month. That bank was . . . well, never mind.”

  “You robbed a bank in Santa Fe?” a big man who smelled like a week-old dead horse asked, sliding up next to Henry Plummer. His voice took on an edge. “Or are you boys just blowing a cloud of horseshit over the rest of us?”

  Deputy Henry Plummer looked up at Bully O’Brien and smiled. “Mister, me and my partner didn’t buy that last round of drinks on the house with horseshit, now did we?”

  The bartender laughed. “Hell no you didn’t! And to my way of thinking, I’d like to see you men come back any old time you please.”

  “Well thank you,” Henry said. He looked to his friend. “Might be we should be going to get something to eat, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Mike Flannery agreed. “Drink too much on an empty belly and your brain starts to fuzz up.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Bully O’Brien objected, laying a heavy hand on both of their shoulders. “You boys have bought everyone here not just one, but two rounds. So I’d take it as an insult if you wouldn’t allow me to repay you that favor.”

  Plummer took a moment, as if he were really reflecting on the offer. “All right, we’re up for another round and thank you kindly, sir.”

  “Name is Bully,” the man said, sticking out a ham-sized hand. “Bully O’Brien, and these are my friends O’Toole and Hannigan. We’re Irishmen to the bone, and you boys look like you might be brothers of the ol’ shamrock and sod.”

  “Well, I am,” Flannery said, sporting a wide grin. “But my friend here is a damned Welshman.”

  Bully O’Brien signaled the bartender to bring them fresh glasses of whiskey. He surveyed his new acquaintances for a minute, and when the drinks had been refreshed, he crowed, “Here’s to old men, and to bold men, who take what they please and please no man who tries to shackle them to a steady wage!”

  “Or a prison cell!” Plummer added.

  “That’s the spirit!” Bully bellowed, tossing down his drink. “To us brave bastards who plunder till we’re six feet under!”

  Everyone burst into laughter and more drinks were poured. Bully tossed down two more drinks and then lowered his voice to say, “Why don’t you men join us at the table over yonder and we can talk about things that will make us some fresh money.”

  “We never turn away the chance to make money, long as we don’t have to work for it,” Flannery confided.

  “Boys,” Bully said, “you are men after my own heart. Bartender, bring us a couple of bott
les! They’re buyin’ one on them, and the other is on Bully and his Shamrock boys.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When the bottles were delivered, Henry paid for one but noticed that Bully O’Brien didn’t pay for the other.

  “Now,” Bully said, leaning across the table, “tell us about that Santa Fe job and how you pulled it off. I’d always heard that Santa Fe has soft and willin’ women but is a hard town to rob a bank in.”

  “Whoever told you that,” Flannery replied, “is full of horseshit.”

  “Ha!” Bully cried, grabbing a bottle and pouring. “We are goin’ to have a good time, and I think maybe we can all make this little get-together very profitable.”

  “How’s that?” Plummer asked, as if he hadn’t a clue where Bully was going with the conversation.

  “You boys seem to know a lot about robbing banks, while me and my boys know the layout of this town. Know every place to get money and every place to hide it. If we put our heads together could be we’ll make a fine, lawbreaking team and ride off rich as kings in a few weeks.”

  “Might be we could at that,” Flannery said, trying to look like he’d just been passed a gift of great promise.

  “Now,” Bully asked, his face eager with anticipation, “how many banks have you boys actually robbed and how much cash have you gotten away with this past year?”

  Flannery’s phony smile faded. He and Plummer had come up with a plausible story but had not thought to come up with actual figures. “Well . . .”

  “Come on, boys! This is not the time to be bashful about your accomplishments,” Bad Barry Hennigan urged. “Give us the straight story.”

  Mick O’Toole nodded. “If we’re going to be partners, you got to come straight with us.”

  “Fair enough,” Flannery finally agreed. “Right?”

  Henry Plummer nodded, looking very serious. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “All right then,” Bully said. “Let’s get down to some real serious talk and see if we can come to a meeting of criminal minds.”

  The Shamrock Gang members knew that Bully was making a joke and laughed, but it was all that Henry Plummer and Mike Flannery could do just to dredge up an agreeable smile.

  “Got a bank in mind?” Plummer asked.

  “Any bank that has a bundle ought to do,” Bully said.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Plummer said.

  “We didn’t think so when we robbed a couple. No problems.”

  “Then you were lucky,” Flannery told them. “Did these banks have any armed guards?”

  “No,” Bully admitted. “They were real small banks.”

  “And how much cash did you get?”

  Bully took a drink. “Not too much, but . . .”

  “If we’re going to rob a bank,” Flannery whispered, eyes going to each man at the table, “we’re going to rob a big, prosperous bank.”

  “Higher risk,” Bully pointed out, looking a little worried.

  “Higher risk means higher reward,” Plummer said.

  Bully’s eyes were bloodshot but intense. “How much money are we talking about?”

  “Over ten thousand or it’s not worth the risk.”

  “Ten thousand!”

  “That’s half of what we got in Santa Fe.”

  “Did you boys kill any guards that day?” Hannigan wanted to know.

  “Only one,” Flannery said as if it were nothing. “We did real good that day.”

  The Shamrock Gang exchanged glances, and then Bully said, “We haven’t had to kill anyone yet . . . but we’ll do what is needed providing the money is there.”

  “That’s the part we specialize in,” Flannery said.

  “How?”

  Flannery smiled. “We set up a phony account and check out the bank real good. We put some planning into it, so that when we walk in the door with guns in our hands, we know that we’re not just gonna walk out with pocket money.”

  “That’s right,” Plummer said. “Big risks . . . big rewards.”

  “We’re in with you,” Bully O’Brien said, sticking out his great paw. “Right, boys?”

  All of them nodded, and as they poured fresh glasses and made a toast to a new and successful partnership, Henry Plummer could feel a cold, nervous sweat trickle down from his armpits.

  Chapter 7

  It was just after midnight when Longarm saw his two young deputies stagger out of the Hammer Head Saloon, and by then he was so damned cold he could have pissed yellow icicles.

  And he was mad, real mad.

  He watched deputies Flannery and Plummer boisterously laugh and shake hands with Bully O’Brien and his Shamrock Gang thieves and thugs.

  They drank too damn much, Longarm thought to himself. They used that government expense account money to have themselves a high old time, and by damned they’d better have something important to tell me or I’ll wring both their necks!

  The two groups parted ways, and Longarm remained well in the shadows until his deputies were almost past him. Then, stepping out and grabbing both young men by the collar, he whirled them around.

  “What the hell were you doing in there so long!”

  Both Henry Plummer and Mike Flannery tried to speak at the same time, and when that didn’t work, they plastered stupid grins on their faces.

  “Come on,” Longarm said, shoving both men up the street. “We’re going to get some food and coffee in you, and then I’m going to decide whether or not I should ask Billy Vail to pull your badges for good.”

  “He’d do that?” Flannery asked.

  “Hell yes he would,” Longarm snapped.

  • • •

  An hour later Longarm sat across the table from them in a small all-night diner and listened to what his deputies had to say for themselves.

  “We’re going to rob a bank,” Flannery said.

  “Who is ‘we’?” Longarm demanded.

  “Us and Bully O’Brien and his Shamrock Gang.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow,” Plummer said.

  “No,” his partner said. “Today.”

  Longarm leaned forward. “You are going to go with them and hit a bank today?”

  “That’s right,” Flannery said. “We agreed to meet with Bully and his men at three o’clock this afternoon, and plan to go directly to the Bank of Denver’s South End branch down on South Federal.”

  “I know the bank,” Longarm said. “They were robbed two years ago, and the bank manager was able to grab a shotgun, which cost him his life and that of a customer.”

  “Bully didn’t say anything about that,” Flannery replied.

  Longarm thought for a moment. “How many men do you think Bully O’Brien will have on this job?”

  “I don’t know because he never said. Maybe just the pair he had with him tonight.”

  “We should expect more,” Longarm told them.

  Henry Plummer rubbed his face. “I need to sober up and get some sleep.”

  “Me, too,” Flannery agreed. “Custis, can you . . .”

  “Yeah,” Longarm agreed. “I’ll go tell our boss what the plan is, and he and I can decide who needs to be waiting and how we’ll handle this. Most important thing is that no innocent bystanders get shot in a cross fire.”

  • • •

  Longarm glanced up at the clock in Marshal Billy Vail’s office. “They’re going into that bank in two hours. I think I need to get moving so I’ll have time to get in a good firing position outside.”

  “Deputy Hugh Reed and Deputy Joe Hector will give us enough backup if they’re needed,” Billy said. “I’m coming along as well.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Longarm told his boss.

  �
�And why not? Do you think I’ll botch things up because I’ve been sitting behind this desk too long?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t need to.” Billy hadn’t been in the field for almost two years, and Longarm doubted if he’d fired his gun in all that time. “I’ll pretend to be one of the bank’s customers when they come in to hold it up. Deputy Reed can be acting like another customer, and Deputy Hector can be outside waiting near you. We’ll need to clear out the real customers before the Shamrock Gang comes through the bank’s front door.”

  “It won’t work,” Longarm said. “If they arrive a little early to check out the bank and see that there are only two customers inside and that they are both armed men, then the gang might get spooked. I think it might be best if you stay here. I’ll report back”

  “If we can take Bully O’Brien and his men alive, that would be best. But if not . . .”

  “I know,” Longarm said. “After the gang goes inside, I’ll move toward the front door of the bank but keep a distance. We’ll also have to worry about Deputy Flannery and Deputy Plummer. Especially Plummer, who admits that he’s a poor shot.”

  “I wish that he wasn’t going to be in there,” Billy muttered. “If something goes wrong and he’s killed . . . or even wounded . . . his father is going to raise hell.”

  “What can the mayor do to you?” Longarm asked as they were leaving. “I understand that he could fire anyone under him, but we’re feds.”

  “It all ties together,” Billy said. “Trust me, Mayor Plummer is a good man, but I know that Henry is his only son and if this whole thing goes awry, heads will roll . . . and maybe they’ll be ours.”

  “Right now,” Longarm said, turning to leave. “City politics is the very last thing on my mind.”

  • • •

  “There they are,” Joe Hector said, sliding back out of sight near Longarm. “There are six of them!”

  “Just make damn sure you know which ones are our deputies.”