Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

over again, that I was back in the presence of a rabid beast, that there was only one course of action left for me to take.
    “You don’t look so good, Mac,” Jean-Marc said. “You look like someone just shot your only friend. Trust me, buddy, she wasn’t your friend. She wasn’t anyone’s friend. And between you and me, didn’t you find her a little less than enthusiastic in the sack—”
    I exploded then, ducked low and rushed him, wrapping my arms around his waist and lifting him off the ground, then slamming him hard onto the sidewalk, landing on top of him with all my weight. I mounted him fast, both my knees on the pavement, my thighs locked tight around his ribs. He raised his arms to fight back and I slipped a lock around his left and twisted abruptly, breaking his elbow clean. He cried out and I repositioned the lock and twisted again, tearing the soft tissue in his shoulder. Then I abandoned that arm and sunk my weight onto his chest and let go with a flurry of punches to his face. Almost all of them connected and cut divots out of his skin. I heard voices from somewhere but I ignored them and hit till my hands hurt. Then I leaned in and held myself over him with my left arm and threw a flurry of elbow shots into his head with my right.
    My rage was rushing through me like electricity. I heard more voices then. I heard people moving toward me. I heard keys jingling on belts, I heard hard shoes on pavement. I noticed blue and red lights in the trees. I realized then that I was ranting, but I had no idea what I was saying. And anyway, I didn’t really want to know.
    I was still working Jean-Marc when I felt hands on me, grabbing me and trying to pull me off him. I shrugged them away. But then more hands grabbed at me and pulled me off him and to my feet.
    I struggled against the hands holding me, shoving people away. I knocked someone to the ground. Then someone else. I knew by then that they were cops but I couldn’t stop myself. My rage wasn’t done. I tried to break free. I wanted to throw myself back on Jean-Marc. But too many hands had me. Still, I managed somehow to twist free of some and to pull those still clinging to me as I labored to get closer. I managed to maneuver the pack and put myself in range and stomped hard on Jean-Marc’s head with the sole of my work boot.
    And that’s when the first nightstick come down on my head. The pack pulled me away again, and something jammed me hard in the ribs. I grunted and jerked my head in rebuttal, catching someone flush in the nose with the side of my skull. I knew then that after all I had done to avoid this, I was right where I wasn’t supposed to be, in the hands of the Chief’s boys, giving them the reasons they needed to take me out.
    The nightsticks all came out then, jamming me, banging me. I took a few glancing shots across the head, shots that stung me more than they rocked me. Most of the blows came to my body and legs. I wanted to fight back but my strength was close to gone. My wits weren’t all that far behind.
    I was determined not to fall to the ground with all of them over me. But my determination was weakening with each shot that came in. I felt my knees bending under the weight of their blows.
    I was close to going down when suddenly I heard someone ordering, “Enough! That’s enough!”
    But still more shots came, and I dropped down to one knee. The sticks were working my shoulders and upper back and arms. There was nothing I could do. The swarm was too tight. There was nowhere to go, no way out.
    I dropped my other knee, then fell to my hands and knees. I took shots to the ribs, jabs that shifted my internal organs. I heard the same voice order with authority and anger, “That’s enough, that’s enough,” and it wasn’t long after that that the flurry of blows finally ceased and the swarm was no longer so tight around me.
    I realized then that I was on grass, on the lawn in front of the Hansom House. I looked up, laboring to breathe, and saw Augie pushing at cops with his cane, shoving them away. They didn’t seem to know what to make of him. They looked to the Chief for his reaction. Then I saw Frank Gannon behind Augie. He, too, had his hands on a cop, pushing him back by the shoulders. Between the two of them was the Chief. He just stood there in the middle of it all and looked down at me.
    I bunched together what I had and got to my knees. From there I was able to stand. It took a moment but I did it. I