The Washingtons Make Their Move
Johnny sat in the dark room. He knew he was capable of doing what he had to do. He could write it off as simply revenge, but deep down inside he knew better. He knew that there was a combination of destiny and history all being blasted into one forsaken explosion that was about to shift the axis of the balance of power in the world of organized crime. There was no regret or fear, simply anxiety battling focus. The unlikely hero who tapped into a sublime understanding that the time had arrived for it to be us or them. This was America whether they truly understood it or not. There was no royalty, no castes, no pecking order other than who was strong enough, had guile enough to seize the kind of power that was bestowed in other cultures by birth. However in America, it would now be seized by strength, by strategy, by courage, by intelligence.
He didn’t care if the new frontier was being opened by default. He didn’t care if they were poised to seize control because the greedy dark lords were seeking greener pastures. What was left behind was greater treasure than had ever been offered his kind. It was not going to be easy or clean, but if he executed his plan properly he would be the new “King of New York.” They would be the biggest fish in the pond. Granted, it wasn’t Vegas, but they would be the new royalty. They would be the ones to decide who lived and died. They would have the power.
Pauline had made the arrangements, obviously not understanding my intentions. She had told “The Man”, that I was on board with the plan to help make them the biggest syndicate in the country. What neither Pauline, nor Mr. Lucchese understood was that my brother was dead, there was an opportunity and I was far more ambitious than they could have ever imagined. I was the most dangerous animal alive…and I could smell my prey.
There was a knock on the door. Then several men entered the room. They read the note Johnny had left saying he had run downstairs to the lobby to get a couple of bottles of scotch for them to celebrate. He heard their nervousness as the wily veterans were not buying the ruse. They started to argue and voices rose as they all made suggestions that things were not right. Time was up and it was do or die for one Jonathan Washington… or whatever the hell his real last name was. He swung his arm out around the corner of the bathroom, launching a flash grenade into the room. After the explosion, he ran out across the room crouched down firing his sub-machine gun evenly across the room. He didn’t care who it hit, who died or why. He was on the precipice of his existence and he laid waste to everything in his perimeter. He fired, and fired and fired destroying every amenity and comfort the young upstart hotel had to offer. He reloaded and fired again on and on and on. He knew the monumental repercussions of his actions and if one witness was left alive, it would be one too many.
Immediately following the assault, Johnny’s first instinct was escape. No matter who may be left after the assassinations of both the Needle and the Don, there would be hell to pay. He dropped his weapon, and slid out the front door. He didn’t even get a step, when he was staring down the barrel of a German authorized pistol. “Don’t move a F-ing muscle my little friend.”
The voice and grin that my glance came upon nearly made my stomach vomit. It was Eddie Lucas, and he had me dead to rights. The barrel of his weapon driven fiercely into my forehead, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the stairwell. Two floors down, he turned me around the corner and threw me to the floor in a room not unlike the war zone from which I had just been removed. As I lay on the ground, I realized that I was no longer being confined. I stood up slowly, knees still shaking violently from the transactions of the previous minutes. As I turned around, Eddie Lucas still had his gun drawn on me, but behind him were standing not just Pauline…but incredibly…my brother Earl, alive!!!!
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the Needle still dead?
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But peaches was busy tweeting about traffic conditions and ruminations on whether there was always a line at Zabar’s and Needles was texting furiously. By the time they arrived, Meadowlark’s only thought was, “Are we really better off with this technology?” As Peaches and Needles went for the staircase, Meadowlark made his way to the tiny and temperamental elevator.
There are moments when it seems that our minds have a mind of their own. When he should have been thinking about how this coming confrontation was going to play out, something entirely different popped into his head. Earlier in the week he had seen a tweet from Neil deGrasse Tyson, the astrophysicist who runs the Hayden Planetarium which said, “Enter a small room. Doors close. When doors open, you’re in a different place. Elevators are the next best thing to wormholes. “
The second thought that came to mind was the Gotham Blog that had started this in the first place which had been set in 1947, and that was what went through his mind, “Wormholes, 1947.”
The elevator lurched, the light flickered and Meadowlark had the strangest sensation that gravity had left the building. In a moment the feeling passed and the elevator continued its slow ascent.
Expecting to see Peaches and Needles when the door opened, he was instead surprised to see an elderly gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein. Of course, anything was possible at the Friars Club and an Einstein impersonator while amusing, was not shocking.
“Are you vell?” asked the Einstein impersonator in a perfect Austrian accent.
“Yes, I’m fine,” said Meadowlark. But he was not at all fine. The place looked different. The Friars logo was nowhere to be seen and the place was filled with men in out-of-style suits and glasses.
“I think maybe you have seen a ghost,” said the Einstein impersonator. “Here let me help you.”
Einstein took Meadowlark’s arm and led him to a small bench where the two of them sat down.
“I’m sorry, but something seems to have happened. Are they filming a movie here or something?” asked Meadowlark.
“Oh no, nothing so exciting here,” said Einstein. “I am trying to get them to take a stand on nuclear veapons.”
“You do a really good Einstein,” said Meadowlark.
“Sank you. I have been doing it all my life,” Einstein replied with a chuckle. “Tell me dear boy, you seem lost. Who are you here to see?”
Meadowlark had been surveying the scene… no sign of Peaches or Needles and the entire place felt more like an office than a club.
“This is the Friars Club isn’t it?”
“Oh no, you are lost. This is the American Institute of Physics,” replied Einstein. “You know, it is 1947, don’t you?” asked Einstein.
“No,” replied Meadowlark, “it is 2013.”
“Oh, that elevator is playing tricks again,” said Einstein as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’m sorry but you have taken a trip in time. But I am intrigued… are you telling me that in the year 2013 this building will still be here?”
“Yes,” mumbled Meadowlark as he tried to make sense of his situation.
“Fantastic,” said Einstein. “So we have not blown up the world with these veapons? You bring me good news. So how is the vorld in 2013?”
“Um… probably as screwed up as ever,” said Meadowlark.
“Screwed up, sure, but not a radioactive wasteland!” said Einstein with great excitement. “Dear boy, you are here because you probably thought about something from this time while you were in the elevator,” Einstein explained.
“Have you travelled in time,” Meadowlark asked.
“Only once,” said Einstein. “I vent back to tell myself that E=MC squared, not cubed as I had originally written. I had it wrong before so I vent back and fixed it.” Einstein blew a crumb off his bushy mustache. “So why are you here now?” Einstein asked.
Meadowlark thought for a moment, “I have to go to El Morocco!”
“The nightclub?” Einstein asked in disbelief. “Vouldn’t be my first choice…”
“I have to see some people there,” said Meadowlark.
“Then give me your money,” said Einstein as he pulled out his own wallet.
“Why,” asked Meadowlark.
“Because your future money is not going to make happy a taxi driver.” He exchanged a handful of bills with Meadowlark. “Besides, when I am dead, they will find these in my things and it vill make them crazy to explain it.”
Meadowlark was about to run down the stairs when he stopped and turned. “Professor Einstein, how will I get back to 2013?”
“That is simple my dear boy. Have you ever taken the train to Princeton?” Einstein’s face broke into a big smile, “You get on in New York and you are lucky if you get to Princeton in less than 70 years!”
With that Einstein stepped into the elevator. Meadowlark ran down the stairs and out into the stunning noise and dirt of 1947 Manhattan.
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