When he knocked on the side kitchen door of Beck’s bar after coming in through the warehouse at the end of the street, and making his way between buildings as Beck had instructed, Phineas looked like a man ready for either a physical or an intellectual brawl, the sooner the better.
Alex Liebowitz opened the door for the heavyset Phineas, who stood five ten, dressed in brown corduroy pants, a green cashmere turtleneck sweater, and a long brown fine wool overcoat. Phineas just about filled the width of the doorway. He stepped in and embraced Alex in his usual bear hug.
“Laddie. Trouble afoot for the good guys, ey?”
“Apparently,” said Alex.
“When I drove up Reed to get into the warehouse lot there were a half-dozen coppers milling around back there.”
“Not nearly as many as before. We gotta stay closed down so they don’t come busting in here looking for James.”
Phineas took a peek out the front window. The hulk of the burned-out SUV, surrounded by scorched sidewalks and cobblestones was still out front, as well as a single patrol car staking out the entrance to Beck’s building.
“That’s what I’m here for. Nobody gets in without a proper warrant and plenty of time for us to get organized. God’s Christ, you look totally wrecked, boy. When was the last time you slept?”
“You mean like eight hours in a row slept?”
“I mean slept at all.”
Alex waived off the question. “Can’t remember. After today I’ll be able to sleep.”
“Good. Good. Where’s James?”
“Don’t know. But he’s due back soon. Certainly before nine-thirty.”
Phineas walked all the way around to the back of the bar. “Nine-thirty? Why nine-thirty?”
“Markets open at nine-thirty.”
That didn’t explain much, but Phineas responded as if it did. “Ah. I see. I might even get the warrants quashed by then. James says he’s already taken care of one witness, and doubts the second will ever show up.”
Phineas began assembling the makings for coffee. While it brewed, he set his mug on the battered old bar and poured in a dollop of Jameson.
“You want some coffee, lad?”
“No thanks.”
“Is it just you?”
“At the moment.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the side door. Alex went to answer it. A few moments later, Doctor Brandon Wright appeared in the barroom. Phineas topped off his coffee and waved him in. Behind him came a diminutive woman pulling a wheeled twenty-four-inch suitcase, filled with surgical supplies.
“Good morning, Doctor. I see you followed James’s instructions about avoiding the front door.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve taken that route.”
“Coffee?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The tall, lanky doctor wore jeans, work boots, and a plaid shirt under a fleece-lined Carhartt canvas coat. He carried a large doctor’s black bag. Brandon introduced the woman with him.
“Gentlemen, this is Ruth Silverman, my nurse. Ruth, Mr. Dunleavy and Mr. Liebowitz.”
She nodded.
“How do you do,” said Phineas, politely shaking her hand. Alex raised a hand in her direction.
Phineas asked Brandon, “When did you speak to James?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“I see,” said Phineas.
Brandon asked Alex, “What happened out there?”
“We were attacked.”
“How many?”
“A lot. Cops came.”
“And our boys?” asked Phineas.
Alex said, “James had a plan. He can give you the details. I stayed in here.”
Phineas peeked out the window again. “Well, if they’re still looking for James, I’d say he’s fallen down pretty low on their list. Looks like they had a lot of other things to take care of last night.”
Just then a loud bang sounded as the kitchen side door opened and hit the wall, accompanied by grunts and voices.
From back in the kitchen, Manny Guzman yelled out, “Is it clear?”
Alex yelled back. “All clear.”
Ciro and Manny appeared in the bar, each with one of Joey B’s massive arms draped across their shoulders. The big man was clearly in excruciating pain, barely able to walk.
Blood covered Manny’s right shoulder and arm.
The left side of Ciro’s face was streaked with blood. But the strain of holding up Joey B seemed to be more cause for discomfort than their injuries.
Brandon stepped forward calmly. “Has he been shot?”
“No,” said Ciro. “The poor bastard slipped on the ice and went down hard on his ass. He broke something. Can’t walk.”
Joey B added, “Fucking can’t even stand. Hurts like hell. Fuck.”
“Should we lay him down?”
Brandon put up both hands, “No. No. Don’t put him on the floor. It’ll be too hard to get him up. We have to get him on a table so I can examine him.”
Ciro asked, “How about the bar?”
Brandon looked at Joey B and at the bar top. “No, not wide enough.” He looked around and then said, “Okay, come on. Let’s put four of these tables together.”
While Alex and Phineas slid the tables together, Brandon fished around in his medical bag and came out with a syringe and a vial. He filled the syringe, plunged it into Joey B’s huge thigh, right through his pants, and emptied the contents into him.
“You won’t feel much in a few minutes.” He turned to the others and directed Phineas to take Manny’s place. “Just lay him down on the tables.” He turned to his nurse. “Ruth, head upstairs. Manny will show you.”
Phineas, Alex, and Ciro maneuvered Joey B onto the tables. The shot already taking effect, Joey B laid his head back and said, “Jesus, give me some more of that shit, doc.”
“Let me get a little better idea of what happened to you first.”
Ciro asked Alex and Phineas, “You heard from James and Demarco?”
“No. How’d you get Joey in here?”
“Guys from the market let us borrow a panel truck. We drove it right in the warehouse. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it the rest of the way. Manny is stronger than I thought.”
Alex said, “You okay? You got blood all over your face.”
Ciro peered into the cloudy mirror over the back bar.
“Shit.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I think something tore off that SUV out back and it zinged across my face.”
Alex had already wet down half a bar towel and handed it to Ciro, who wiped away the obvious blood and held the dry end against his wounds.