Chapter 7

Kingpin was really worried, now. His empire was going to hell in a hand basket. He had already lost three of his most profitable speakeasies and he was no closer to finding the people who were doing the damage. Sure, he knew that it was an organization known as Birdmen, but what did they want?

He was used to buying off the opposition. In fact, he preferred to do business that way. Cops, courts, politicians, they were all on his payroll. If something got in the way, he just bought it. On the rare occasions that he couldn't buy the roadblock, he had it destroyed. But it was unusual when he couldn't buy his way around a problem.

Kingpin knew that you had to identify your roadblock before you could bury it under a mountain of money. And he couldn't identify these Birdmen. This was the first time he had run into an obstacle that didn't want to be known. Always, before, the obstacle had made a point of identifying itself early in the game. If he didn't know better, Kingpin would swear that this Birdmen gang was trying to put him out of business. Why? They couldn't get money from a bankrupt operation. He was just plain baffled.

He studied the pattern of the hits, and he finally began to see how they tied together. All of the hits, so far, had been on the speakeasies that were combined with bowling alleys and drew a large high school trade. OK, if he couldn't buy them off, he would fight the Birdmen. There were two speakeasies left which fit the description of the most likely target. He would keep an armed guard on duty in both places until he had stopped the Birdmen. Kingpin started organizing his defenses.

Eagle was sure they were getting close to breaking Kingpin. He only had two of the really profitable speakeasies left catering to the high school trade. Kingpin was bound to tumble to the common thread tying together the three places they had already hit. The question was: how long would it be before Kingpin tried to defend a target they planned to hit? Eagle had to assume that the time was now! He warned everybody of his fears as they rolled out to destroy their next speakeasy.

Even though Kingpin had the cops bought off, he still had to look legitimate to the parents of his customers. His bowling alleys operated strictly according to all pertinent city ordinances, particularly, closing time. Therefore, the bowling alley and associated speakeasy closed its doors at 10:00 PM on school nights—no exceptions. He even had an absolute curfew on the bedrooms he rented by the half-hour, the occupants had to leave at 9:45 PM, no matter where you were in your fuck. Once in a while, there would be customers who were interrupted at the worst possible time, but it was interesting that the girls complained more than the boys.

By operating this way, he was able to maintain his facade of respectability and keep the parents off his back. Therefore, his speakeasies for kids had an overflow clientele every night. Mostly, the booze was made on the spot from drums of wood alcohol he got dirt cheap. The kids had no idea what good stuff tasted like, so they drank it up at his inflated prices. He did have one rule that was not on the list of city ordinances that was also enforced: no kid left too drunk to drive! He didn't want to attract that kind of parental attention, either.

Anyway, the speakeasies closed early enough that the Birdmen had plenty of time to do a thorough job of trashing them before employees showed up the next day. They made a point of leaving the bowling alleys undamaged, so there was never any doubt about their real target. Sometimes, the fire was bad enough that the fire department made a mess, but it was not the Birdmen's doing.

Their target for this night was typical in its arrangement. The bowling alley was on the ground floor, the speakeasy was on the next floor up, and the offices, dressing rooms, and bedrooms were on the top floor. The booze was stored in the basement.

The Birdmen usually entered through the roof access door, and this time was no different. As they came in, the Birdmen were spotted by a lookout. He was not the brightest bulb in the string, so it was easy for him to get the idea of being a hero by taking care of the invaders all by himself. Unfortunately for him, he decided to become the hero by shooting his snub-nosed .38. It's a well known fact that you practically have to be in contact with your target to hit anything with such a weapon, and the thug was a lousy shot anyway, so his shots all went wide, though one did come uncomfortably close to Eagle's foot.

The thug fired all 6 shots, and, when he discovered he hadn't hit anything he was aiming at, he dropped the gun and ran down the stairs. He was so inept that he tripped on the stairs and crashed his head into the wall, breaking his neck.

The other guards heard the shots, but knowing what a dumb SOB this guy was, weren't sure that he was shooting at anything important. Nevertheless, the boss guard sent one of the men to investigate. The inquisitive guard stuck his head through the door and yelled, "HEY, JOEY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SHOOTING AT!"

Getting no answer, he entered the stairwell just as Eagle hit his head and shoulders with both feet from a height of about 12 feet. The thug collapsed from the impact, but Eagle managed to land on his hands and feet. Eagle quickly recovered and stood up. The guard was trying to reach his gun when Eagle kicked the goon in the throat with his steel-toed boot. The kick was so forceful that the man's windpipe was shattered, and the man collapsed into unconsciousness, never to wake up.

Eagle called for a quick conference. "It certainly looks like they are waiting for us. What should we do? It's not too late to retreat, or we can take this opportunity to eliminate a portion of Kingpin's army."