The Loyal Lieutenants Act Seven Scene Two Sub Scene Two

 

Act Seven

Scene Two

Sub-Scene Two

Egypt does not muddle.

 

“The very first food trucks date back to the chuckwagon. These covered wagons sold perishable food to cowboys and loggers in the wilderness. There you will find beans, cured meat, coffee, and biscuits. It would also carry water and wood to build fires. Some also functioned as mobile barbershops and dentist’s surgeries.” Elliot sat there by the truck, listening to the truck operator lay out his tale. He turned towards Albert and then to Castella. The latter was keen to invest in the business upon his retirement.

“Thank you, Mr. Roscoe. Please tell us what you know of the name Moses.” Elliot decided to move the subject.

“Oh, yah. I heard that name.” The food trucker smiled. “He was seated where you are now. He was with one other guy, named Lucas. They were met by this handsome guy. Mardian was his name. I saw him around.”

“Roscoe here has a good memory of people.” Castella smiled. “I was introduced to him by some friends who knew of Moses here.”

Some of the older guys retired here and were looked up to by Castella. He asked Moses, and they told him he was there.

“Moses, yes. Nice guy. He was here.” The food trucker smiled. “I took two bites of my hot dog and ordered two more to takeaway.”

“Mr. Roscoe, what did you remember of Moses?” Elliot felt like he was wasting his time.

“Moses? Ya, Moses. He was here with that other guy named Lucas. They spoke with this Mardian about some numbers and how they were going to go down. Roman numbers, it was.” Roscoe smiled. “Do you know the Egyptians invented the first ciphered numeral system, and the Greeks followed by mapping their counting numbers onto the Ionian and Doric alphabets?”

“Yes …... But what are Roman numbers?” Elliot pressed on.

“He did not make any sense then, but I knew the meeting was to take place that evening at the Mardi Gras Club.” Roscoe said. “They went there soon after.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roscoe.” Elliot got up from the seat. It was then that Castella saw the old boys from Rome rushing towards him. He met the older guy midway.

“Castella, I was just told that Rodney was shot as a warning to us. Leave Egypt alone. They know.” The older guy told Castella in between breaths. “Rodney told me before he died at the infirmary. Leave Egypt now.”

The older guy then pushed Castella and walked away. The former approached Elliot and told him the message.

“How do they know we are here?” Elliot asked.

“It is the same for us in Rome. The words will spread when any of the other gangs arrive. They will be met by one of us and asked questions.” Castella looked over his shoulder. “Egypt knew of us then.”

“Let us return to the hut.” Albert told them. “We need to be ready.”

“For what?” Elliot asked.

“To pack our things and leave, or get ready for a shoot-out.” Albert looked at Elliot.

“We could seek the coppers for assistance.” Elliot explained. “I could tell them my badge.”

“Mr. Ness, I am not keen to be killed by the coppers or Egypt. I am going back to Rome.” Albert shook his head. Castella and Chapin nodded in unison, but Elliot was not leaving.

“Go on ahead. I am staying here. I am going to Mardi Gras Club now.” Elliot walked his own path.

“Can I shoot him in the back?” Castella asked Albert.

“I will call Rome and ask for instruction. Meanwhile, Chapin. Gather all guns into the bag and meet us outside of Mardi Gras Club. Castella, you tag along, Mr. Ness.”

Mardi Gras Club adhered to the Spanish Mediterranean Revival style of architecture, with decorative columns, arched windows, clay barrel tile roofs, rough stucco walls, wrought iron, and spindle gates guarding picturesque courtyards. The only exception were the guards at the gates.

“I am Elliot Ness, a Treasury Agent. I am here to inspect the place.”

In almost all the cities then, the bootleggers flooded cities with prohibited booze during the Prohibition Era. The differences at Mardi Gras were the flappers: a woman with a short “bob” hairstyle, cigarettes dangling from her painted lips, and dancing to a live jazz band. There was also the "Pansy Craze," where gay, lesbian, and transgender performers graced the stages of nightspots. Female impersonators were the mainstay of the shows, enjoyed by all, including the straight gender.

“This is a private club, Mr. Agent. You need to get authority to come in.” The guard there stopped Elliot.

“Mr. Ness. Please do come in. I am Senor Pancho Santos, the club manager. We welcome you to Mardi Gras.” The gentleman approached Elliot. He was dressed in the white three-piece suit with the greased hairdo.

“Please come in and enjoy the cool air we have inside.” The manager offered the entrance to Elliot. “Mr. Mardian will join you shortly.”