and again. You could see the ugly man’s body shake under the power of the war hero’s blows. In a final act of courage Douglas raised both arms and came after Fearless. The latter opened up with a barrage of blows to the rib cage. Douglas crumbled, tried to rise, fell to the floor again, and began to shake as if he were entering the throes of death.
“Where he got the bond?” Fearless demanded of Elana as he flipped Leon over on his back.
The loser had his arms clenched tightly around his ribs and he was talking to himself, though I couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“In his, in the back of his pants,” Elana stuttered.
Fearless tossed Douglas back over on his stomach and pulled up his gaudy shirt. There was a brown envelope stuffed halfway down the back of his pants.
Fearless took the envelope, jammed his hand into Leon’s pocket and came out with my key ring, and said, “Let’s go.”
“Hold up,” I said. I took the envelope from Fearless and ripped it open.
The bond was no larger than a dollar bill. It was printed on high-quality paper in blue ink. On the left side of the bill there was the image of a hatless, bearded, and mustachioed man who wore a monocle and some kind of jacket that was buttoned up to his throat. On the right side was the denomination — 2500 Fr. With a lot of blue curlicues around it. The opposite side of the bond was written all over in German. All I could make out was Wetterling Bank and the name David Tannenbaum, which had been written by hand. It didn’t look like it was worth killing over or dying for.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get outta here.” I handed the bond and its envelope back to Fearless. I figured that if it needed protecting, he was a better guard than I.
“Take me,” Elana cried.
Fearless and I looked at each other then. He gave no inkling of what he felt, but I guess I seemed unsure.
“Let’s take her if you want, man,” Fearless said. “But hurry. ’Cause if he get up again, I’m’a have to kill ’im.”
Fearless took Elana in my car, and I followed in Layla’s pink Packard.
WE DECIDED ON the lawn to make it to Milo’s office, but as soon as Fearless took the lead, I knew it was a mistake. He cut over to Central, which was a cruising street at that time. Everybody you knew turned up on Central sooner or later. There were churches, nightclubs, liquor stores, and open-lot bazaars up and down the street. Fearless had been in jail and he had just bested a warrior in battle. He was feeling cocky and sure of himself. And even though he showed no interest in Love, she was still a beautiful woman that he could show off. The flowery dress she’d put on was revealing and festive.
Now and then Fearless would toot the horn at someone he’d recognize. People waved and said hello. I followed along, worried about something going wrong, not knowing what that wrong might be, and helpless, at any rate, to make any difference in the outcome.
After a mile or two on Central, Elana Love looked back at me and then said something to Fearless. Two blocks past Gage, Fearless took a left. I was going to follow, but a car sped up on my right, hitting its siren as it did. Automatically I hit the brakes. The police car was joined by a second one that veered and bounced over the curb on my right side.
The cruisers cut Fearless off on the side street. Four cops raced out with their guns drawn, yelling and moving toward the car. I drove past the turn and pulled to the curb just beyond the street’s line of sight. I jumped out and crossed over to the other side of the street just in time to see Fearless thrown over the hood of my car and Elana being relieved of her purse.
I had been so concerned that trouble was coming that I didn’t look out for it. The police came up behind me using my car to hide from Fearless. I wanted to curse out loud, but instead I bit my tongue and moved behind a group of three men who had witnessed the arrest from the street.
They searched Fearless and then they searched the car. They cuffed Fearless and put him in the backseat of one cruiser and Elana in the front seat of the other. That was strange right there. Elana was being treated differently.
I walked back and forth, up and down the avenue, putting on a baseball cap that was in the backseat of Layla’s car. I took the hat off, turned up a collar. I don’t know if my disguises were working or if the police weren’t worried about anybody watching them in broad daylight while they made an arrest. That was still a time when white policemen handled blacks in public with impunity. They were, after all, the law.
I had crossed the street maybe a dozen times when Bernard Latham pulled around the corner. He drove right past me.
