The Loyal Lieutenants Act Eight Scene One Sub Scene One

 

Act Eight

Scene One

Sub-Scene One

The hit on St. Patrick's Day

 

The Roman standing guard at the booze shop was supposed to be ready for any fights or drunks, but being hit by a group of hitmen was not on his agenda that night.

Buggy Moran, the rare Irish to serve the Romans, said, Hey, they pay my bills every other day’. Thus, he was named the Moron by the others, but he accepted his job well. He packed a Browning gun on his shouldered holster and the billy club given to him by his grandfather, who was a 'stoolie’ back in the Isles for the coppers. He was playing both sides and died peacefully in bed. He told his grandson, ‘I never told on God, and God gave me this to shut those who said I did.’ 

That was how the Billy Club came into Buggy’s possession. The weapon is a club or sap, a leather-covered hand weapon, designed to hit or knock you out. The round ones were also known by other names such as billies, billy clubs, billie jacks, blackjacks, and convoys. They are a bludgeoning impact weapon historically used by bouncers, street gangs, thugs, the military, security, and police forces around the world. This is mainly due to the weapon's low profile and small size and their potential to knock a suspect unconscious. Very intimidating and very effective, with lots of stopping power.

That night, the place was crowded—the regulars and some others who all came to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. He had seen like about ten new faces, but who is really counting then? The manager’s name is Saul; he has no last name, but he claimed to be King of Blues, the underrated music genre in the city. It was influenced by work songs and field hollers, minstrel show music, ragtime, church music, and the folk and popular music of the white population: ‘Weird for us to listen to that on St. Patrick’s where we have the Celts songs.’

It brought in the patrons, though. The booze brought them in.

Buggy saw the T-Ford pulled up further down across the street with the lights off. He felt there was something wrong there. The vehicle had a full complement of five inside. They did not alight, and they sat there. He thought to himself, they are either coppers or some boys from out of town. He was right on the that.

The vehicle inched forward slowly, but Buggy knew it was not going to be a good night. He turned to open the door of the shop and was floored by the full band playing their number. When you have the clarinet, trumpets, and saxophones in full blast, you get your shouts stifled by the low noise.

“Saul, we...” Buggy got the words out, but his voice was cut short by one bullet in his left thigh and the other in his left butt cheek. He fell, groaning, but managed to crawl to the nearby parked vehicle. He was about to reach for his gun when he got shot in the right shoulder. It did not end his career, but it saved his life. He saw the blurred sights of the shooters rushing into the club, and just before he slipped into blackness, he heard the gunfire and the screams of the victims.

“I do not condone this act.” Lepidus shouted at the round table, where he was facing Menas and Agrippa. They were at the library at the mansion. “I say we hit back now.”

The report came in before dawn on the hit at Saul’s Club. Nine dead and twelve wounded, with three fatal. Saul was counted as one of the three. The survivors spoke of four gunmen who walked in and sprayed the club areas with machine guns, and then they left. The Roman on guard was wounded and will survive after a long rest.

The coppers are there, and the place is sealed.

“Who took responsibility there?” Agrippa, still in his bathrobe, asked.

“We are still checking. The only possibility is the Visigoths. We have sent out our emissaries. The odd words are either the Parthians or... Muddles.”

“For what?” Agrippa asked. “We have a truce.”

“Truce can be broken.” Menas voiced out. “Jeeves, where is my coffee?”

“We do not act until we...” Agrippa was making a cautious move.

“Do we tell Caesar?” Lepidus asked.

“No, we will handle this ourselves. It could be an isolated act. Saul was planning the music scores for the celebration, and I was told it was the Blues. He may have annoyed some others.”

“So, it had to be the muddles. Who else will take offense to the Blues on this day?” Lepidus was to exert his need for action.

“No, we wait...” Agrippa was to see Mark Antony stepping in.

“Who hit us? I was...” Mark was cut off.

“We do not know. It could be anyone.” Agrippa tried to calm down the situation. He was also annoyed at the Lieutenant for storming in when the meeting was only for the three seniors.

“We need to know fast. Words get out, and our reputation...” Mark was again cut off.

“We will act when we know who.” Agrippa took control of the situation. “No one acts...”

“Coffee, Sirs.” Jeeves arrived. “Sugar on the side.”

“Fuck off, Jeeves.” Agrippa lost his control. “Leave the tray and go out. No one comes in for now.”

“Yes, Mr. Agrippa.” Jeeves held on to his composure and placed the coffee tray on the table. He was about to open the door when Enobarbus rushed in.

“Bosses, we got hit at the warehouses.”

“Damn! It is a war then.” Mark was cursed out.

“I will bring another cup.” Jeeves said,

“Fuck off and stay outside.” Agrippa shouted. “No one comes in.”