The Hellfire Club(102)

“Three…” said Street.

“Oh, good Lord,” said Leopold.

“Two…” Street continued.

“Love you, honey,” said Margaret.

“Love you too, baby,” said Charlie.

“And…” said Street.

At the last second, Charlie and Margaret dropped to the ground while Street simultaneously turned his aim from Charlie toward the two thugs standing with Leopold. Two shots were fired, and the two thugs dropped to the ground. Leopold gasped; Carlin exclaimed, “What the fuck?” and jumped behind a sculpture of Crispus Attucks a split second before Street turned a hundred and eighty degrees and shot at him.

Lying on her back on the floor, Margaret pulled the hoop of her bound arms under her rear and her legs to bring her hands in front of her. It was a struggle, given her pregnant belly, but her adrenaline and flexibility made it work.

Leopold fired at Street. She missed, but she got his attention. He returned fire and Leopold ran behind a statue of Charles Lindbergh holding an America First banner.

Leopold, using the statue for cover, fired at Street from the far side of the tribute to Lindbergh, and Margaret crawled around the other side. Focused on Street, Leopold didn’t notice Margaret creeping up and looping her arms over her head and around her neck. Margaret pulled back with all her might; Leopold gasped for air and dropped her gun as she struggled to insert her hand between Margaret’s bound wrists and her own neck.

Charlie ran to Strongfellow and squared up against him, but before he could punch him, Strongfellow kicked him in the groin. Charlie fell on the ground in agony. Strongfellow began kicking him in the gut—his legs very obviously perfectly functioning. The image of Margaret and their baby sprang into Charlie’s head. He lunged for Strongfellow’s legs and knocked him down. Strongfellow’s head hit the floor hard as Street ran over and began kicking him in the stomach.

“Isaiah!” Charlie yelled.

Carlin was pushing a statue of General George Custer onto them. Charlie shoved Street out of the way; the statue hit Charlie’s back. Custer’s arm broke off its body and smashed into Strongfellow’s head, knocking him out. Charlie cried out in pain.

Margaret was still locked in battle with Leopold, her wrists still bound and around Leopold’s neck. Leopold, demonstrating surprising strength as she struggled mightily to free herself, began bucking like a bronco, first pulling Margaret forward and lifting her off her feet, then suddenly running backward and ramming Margaret into a statue of Supreme Court justice Roger Taney. Margaret was terrified but couldn’t let go since her wrists remained bound, and the more Leopold battered Margaret, the tighter Margaret hung on, strangling her.

Street checked on the two thugs to make sure they were dead, then raced to Charlie’s side to help him, but Charlie, teeth clenched in agony, shook his head. “Go help Margaret!” Street did, but not before slamming his OSS gun into the palm of Charlie’s hand.

Street turned toward Margaret as Carlin emerged from the crowd of statues, bent down to the base of a figure of Continental Army general Charles Lee, and tried to topple it onto Charlie. Lee teetered, and Charlie managed to push himself out of its way a moment before the stone mass fell onto the space he had just occupied. Hands on his knees, gasping, Charlie found the OSS gun on the ground and aimed it right at Carlin.

“That’s a single shot, Charlie,” Street called. “You can’t miss!”

Charlie aimed for Carlin’s head.

Carlin’s eyes widened. “No,” Carlin said. “Wait, Charlie, listen to me—”

Charlie fired, but the Liberator was a gun for emergencies, and Charlie reverted to his basic-training mistake of flinching as he anticipated the gun’s recoil. The bullet whizzed past Carlin’s head and hit the statue of Crispus Attucks.

Carlin jumped forward onto Charlie and grabbed his throat, then tried to shove his thumbs into Charlie’s eyes. Charlie pulled at Carlin’s wrists, trying to stop the pain. Carlin’s obvious desperation seemed to empower him, but he was also much older and weaker than his adversary. Charlie, in pain, kicked Carlin in the groin, then twisted Carlin’s wrist and slammed his forehead into the older man’s nose. Carlin coughed and released his grip; Charlie threw him to his right.

Carlin grabbed at Charlie’s arm and bit it. Charlie screamed as Carlin’s teeth broke the skin.

Feeling a white-hot jolt of fury, Charlie grabbed Carlin by his shirt collar and lifted him off the ground, then turned his body to the left and slammed the man’s head into the sharp corner of the base of the Crispus Attucks statue. It might as well have been the edge of an ax.

The marble edge was now marked with a deep crimson stain as all fight left Carlin’s body. He groaned and his eyes rolled back in his head.

It was at precisely that moment that Leopold succumbed to Margaret’s bound hands around her neck. She dropped to her knees, then fell onto her face, dragging Margaret along with her.

Charlie stood, ran to Margaret, extricated her from the death trap she had fastened around Leopold’s neck, and embraced her.

The room was suddenly still, the only sound Margaret, Charlie, and Street breathing heavily. They were surrounded by their fallen enemies: one unconscious, one dying, three dead.

“I told you I was on your side,” Street finally said.