Chapter 13

When word got around about the Scott Witherspoon incident, we suddenly were inundated with requests to conduct more high schoolers on excursions into Boston or New York City. Now that there was high-speed rail transport between Central Massachusetts and NYC (New York City), there was a lot more demand for our services escorting clients for trips to Broadway shows, etc.

The two-hours or so by train between Worcester and NYC was quicker than driving or taking a plane, so it became a very popular weekend date trip for the older high school crowd. Unfortunately, the kidnappers also discovered this mode of transportation. Nancy and I were not the only ones offering this kind of escort service, but we were the leaders of the trend.

Early on, we had a very exciting trip back from NYC. It was a rainy Sunday evening, so there were only a few people on the train. We had a car almost to ourselves as the train raced through the rain and darkness. The only other people in our car were what looked like four businessmen headed for Monday appointments in New England.

We were well into Connecticut when Nancy and Sue made a trip to the restroom. While they were gone, the four men stood up and walked toward us. They had almost reached our seats when they pulled out guns. The four of us had been sitting facing each other across a table and playing bridge—boys against girls. They got to us just as Nancy came out of the washroom with Sue behind her.

Nancy saw the guns and pushed Sue back inside the restroom with an order to drop to the floor. Nancy stripped off her skirt and was ready for action as soon as she pulled her own gun.

I couldn’t do much because the two of us had been ordered to place our hands flat on the table. Dammit, I had really screwed up! Thank God, Nancy had picked the right time to need to piss!

The four kidnappers were standing in the aisle, and they did not seem to be expecting any resistance now that the women were out of the way. My client was ordered to slide out of his seat and stand up so that they could put handcuffs on him. That was the opening we needed: the kidnappers were all paying so much attention to their victim that they were virtually ignoring me.

I snatched out my Griffin .44 and fired, all in one motion, at the spokesman of the group of kidnappers. The bullet in his gut was all it took to drop him to the floor, and that was Nancy’s signal to fire on full automatic at the other three men. By this time, she had mastered the problem of muzzle rise during automatic fire, and she was able to mow down the other three kidnappers. Our client was safe because he had caught his pants pocket on the arm of the seat and could not stand up all of the way. That was what had distracted the kidnappers, and he dove to the floor at the sound of the first shot; to Hell with his pants pocket! I also hit the floor to get out of Nancy’s way.

Once we were sure that the excitement was over, I rang for the conductor. He showed up, and I explained the situation. He decided to wait until we reached Worcester before he stopped the train. That was a regular stop, so none of the other passengers were inconvenienced all that much. The train was delayed while our car was switched out of the train, and the rest of the train continued north.

By this time, Nancy and I knew virtually all of the Worcester police force and most of the morgue crew, so we were not detained very long. We did have to go by the police headquarters the next day to make a formal statement, but it was just going through the motions. The dead men were identified as being a part of the NYC gang scene, and not much was made of their deaths. The whole thing was rather routine for the cops and us, though our clients took a slightly different view of the event.

The point that bothered the cops and us was that there appeared to be some cooperation between the crooks in Worcester and those in NYC. We based that upon the conclusion that the crooks knew who we were and our travel plans. That seemed like too much of a coincidence for blind chance. Well, we had nothing but suspicion to go on for now, but we were going to keep our eyes open for further developments.

This incident slowed down the trips to NYC for a while, but it never did stop them. On the other hand, there was an increase in business headed on date night to Boston among those who could afford it, so there was little if any net loss in the date scene. Our weekend services were more in demand than ever, and it seemed like Nancy and I would have to take some time in the middle of the week if we wanted some time for ourselves. We were of two minds about this problem, but we learned to live with it.

At least, we were able to back off from our pro bono security work among the shelters. Several wealthy people in town had formed a non-profit corporation to provide armed security guards for these shelters, and that took the pressure off of us. That was a welcome relief, though we would have stuck with the job if we had been needed.

The one time we did lose a client to mayhem was eventful to us in more ways than just that one. We had escorted a couple to a dance at a Boston affair that was a big society shindig. The men wore tuxedos, of course, and the women wore ball gowns with a lot of splashy jewelery. I didn’t know how much of it was real, but it sure made a flash and sparkle. The association holding the dance had hired a security firm, and I wondered how much Nancy and I would have to do at the affair, though we expected to do our job getting there and going home.

The band had completed its second set and was filing off the stage when 12 men burst into the hall and brandished guns. Most of the guests were milling around on the dance floor when this happened, and chaos reigned. I don’t know what might have happened if everybody had kept his head, but one of the guests pulled a gun and started shooting at the invaders.

They returned the fire, and there quickly resulted a melee of firing guns from all around the dance floor. Most people had been smart enough to hit the floor at the first sound of gunfire, but a few people were slow to react, and they picked up some of the stray bullets that were winging around. Nobody was killed in that first spurt of pistol fire, but around 17 were wounded.

Nancy and I happened to be standing near our clients and they were some of those slow to react. Neither one of our clients was shot, but the man did get a broken arm when I tackled him a little too vigorously. As it was, it was a good thing that our clients went down when they did because the bullets quickly began to fly in our direction. Nancy and I drew our guns and started to shoot back at those shooters who were not wearing tuxedos.

The light in the dance hall was pretty dim, so it was hard to aim accurately. We did manage to hit some of the attackers, but in the mass of gunshots, Nancy was winged in the upper left arm. The bone was not hit, so it was essentially a flesh wound, but it did bleed a hell of a lot. She was really pissed off because it meant that her outfit was ruined. I managed to rig a tourniquet and stop the bleeding, but Nancy was so mad at this point that she had no intention of backing out of the fight.

Fortunately, somebody had called 911 and a SWAT team showed up before there were many more casualties. By the time every one of the dead and wounded had been accounted for, 29 people were taken to the hospital. That included our client with his broken arm and Nancy with her gunshot.

We were not in the hospital for very long, but all of the wounded were dosed with antibiotics before they were allowed to leave. It was very nearly morning before we got home at last, but we went to bed as soon as possible. However, Nancy was so juiced up with adrenaline and who knows what else that she had to have some sexual relief before she could get to sleep. We thought nothing about it until about five weeks later.