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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 9:06:25 GMT -5
Literary Mosaic 3:
Emerald Ideals
Prologue
It was a tranquil night, midway through August, and for once there were no air raids to worry about. Darkness covered the London skyline. In a quiet street a scuffle was taking place on a building top.
"You're not going to get away Malcolm; I'm sick of your games!" screamed a man to the other as he was held over the ledge of a 12 story building.
"Please! I'll get your money! Just don't..."
"Too late!" And the crook shoved Malcolm over the edge. He died the moment he hit the ground. The crook was quite smart though, and dropped a bottle of wine that landed near the body.
Brushing himself off, he came off of the roof and casually walked away home, saying to himself, "And just like that, this murder became an accident..."
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 9:27:16 GMT -5
Chapter One: The Body Police were called in to investigate a dead body, and for them, the case was open and shut. "Drunk guy fell off the roof; it's an accidental suicide," a constable said. "What a way to go though," another observed. "Well, I'll go get a phone to call Scotland Yard; you see if foul play was involved." "Why?" "Because it's standard procedure! Now, get going!" the sergeant said as he went to the only apartment he saw with a light on. "Hello sir; would you mind if I used your phone; it is urgent that I make a call to Scotland Yard," he said to the resident. "Of course, right this way," Gunnarson said as he went back to making breakfast while the officer talked on the phone.
Gunnarson was making an omelette. He loved omelettes. "Would you care for one?" he asked the officer. "No thanks, I'm on duty," the officer said. Suddenly, the phone rang. The officer picked it up. "Hello, Gunnarson residence, Officer Kenneth speaking." He turned to Gunnarson. "It's for you." Gunnarson took the phone. "Gunnarson speaking." "Mr. Gunnarson, sir! I'm Zoie Gadfrey, owner of Gadfrey acres up in Furness. I need you to come to my farm and help me solve a mystery... someone's been shooting my livestock!" "Of course. Just give me the address and I'll be along as soon as possible." Gunnarson took down the address and hung up. Officer Kenneth was staring slack-jawed at him. "You're THE Gunnarson? Famous detective Gunnarson?" "I wouldn't say famous... I just am really good at spotting the not-so-obvious," he said." "Well, I know you've got a case, but could you spare a few minutes to look at a body for us? We think it's either a drunken accident or a messy suicide, but we could use your opinion." "Okay, I have some time." So off they went.
When they arrived at the crime scene, Gent was waiting. He was continuing his task of observing the detectives to ensure that he had weeded out the corrupt individuals in Scotland Yard. "Why! Gunnarson! Splendid to see you, old chap!" "You too. I believe there is a body..." "Come right this way and I'll show you." "Well, it's pretty open and shut, guy fell off the roof. Drunk by the look of it, since we've got a broken wine bottle. No doubt, he was inebriated, then either fell off of jumped off; we are just not sure which," he explained.
Gunnarson finally got to the body. Not even 2 feet away was the broken wine bottle. "Huh," Gunnarson said, looking at the corpse. "So the assumption is that the wine bottle landed at the same time as him, because he was holding it when he fell?" "Actually, in most cases like this, they drop whatever they're holding before they land, so it lands first." "But if the wine bottle had landed first, then there wouldn't be these wine splashes on this man's coat. He would have landed on top of the place where the wine splashed if the wine had landed first, but it looks like the wine bottle landed after he did and splashed him in wine." "That could mean anything." "Including a cleverly disguised murder. We should investigate this more fully." "We'll see what we can do," Gent said as he gestured to the sergeant. "Kenneth, keep looking down here; I'm going to the roof with Gunnarson."
In the roof, they came to the area where he fell off. "Part of his shirt got caught over here and ripped; this must be where he fell," Gunnarson concluded. They looked around, but did not find anything out of the ordinary. "I'm not really seeing anything," Gent said to Gunnarson. "Guess this was an accident after all." "Ah, my friend, clues mean nothing whatsoever without a head. It is all in here," and he tapped his head. "It is better to think about the psychology of the crime than look for clues that may mean nothing." "I'm not sure I understand where you are coming from... what are you referring to?" Gent asked in confusion. "Motive, my friend, motive! Why would someone murder this man without a motive?" "No one murdered this man. It was a drunken fall," Gent sighed. "Look, Gunnarson, as your friend I'm worried about you. Ever since the Elvira case you've been seeing things that aren't there. I think you should take some time off from detective work." "But I've just taken a case for a Ms. Gadfrey up in Furness!" "Fine, but please, that's the last one for now. And take Kenneth with you. I need to stay in London, but he's nearly as good as me when it comes to police work."
So that afternoon, Gunnarson and Kenneth took an LMS train to Askam-In-Furness. "I still just don't get that last case; so you're telling me that it was an elaborate cover up by two people to murder three people, and have a fourth man arrested, just so this man and woman could fall in love?" Sergeant Kenneth asked as they sat in the train car. "Very much so - I'm still not so sure why Walter Farley got murdered, but the press has been eating up this case like there's no tomorrow," Gunnarson explained. Gunnarson still had the "accidental suicide" on his mind during the ride... there had to be something.
Back in London, the victim had finally been identified as Malcolm West, but there was little else available. The wine bottle had broken into several large pieces, rather than a few smaller ones, so Gent decided to figure out if this was an accident or not once and for all. "Check the pieces for fingerprints; if any are found on there that do not belong to West, only then will we pursue this case any further," Gent explained.
So the bottle was sent over to the lab, but a couple blocks down the street, a man watched with interest. "Good luck finding prints... but I think you will find that rather... difficult..." the man smirked as he held his gloved hands.
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 9:48:56 GMT -5
Chapter Two: Blade Gunnarson and Kenneth arrived at Askam-at-Furness. "Oh, Mr. Gunnarson, how good of you to come!" "Ms. Gadfrey; I wasn't expecting us to meet you here," Gunnarson said to her on the station. "Yes, but I cannot afford to lose another animal, so I wanted to meet you as soon as possible," she explained. "I see; well then, I suppose we should start with the beginning. What has been happening?" Gunnarson asked. "Every morning, I find a dead sheep on my farm... with a bullet in its neck!" "Is it only the neck that is ever shot?" "Strangely enough, yes." "Something must be afoot; this is clearly no coincidence. Let us go to your farm an figure this out," Gunnarson said as they made their way to a vehicle to take them to the farm.
"How many animals so far?" Gunnarson asked. "Six sheep and 2 cows; its only a small part of my flock, but I can't help but worry," she said with fear. "Interesting... where did you find the bodies?" "Well that's just it; they are never in the same place. Sometimes it's out in the field, other times it's near the barn, and once it was near the food troughs," she explained. "Could it have been a neighbor?" Gunnarson asked. "I doubt it; my nearest neighbor lives two miles away," she explained. "What about farmhands?" "I currently employ eight... Oh no, could one of them be behind it?!" she said in horror.
They had just arrived on the farm when a farmhand came running up to the truck. He was petrified. "Ms. Gadfrey! It's terrible! Another sheep has been shot!" he said in fear. "No, not again!" she said as she shot out of the vehicle and ran to the fields. "Interesting," Gunnarson observed. "Not even night yet and already another animal killed; whoever this is really wants to destroy the flock." "Ms. Gadfrey?" he said, but she'd already gone. Gunnarson got out of the car, but suddenly thought of something he hadn't thought of before. "What if... oh no! Ms. Gadfrey!" and he rushed to find her. BANG! went a gun. "Oh, please no!" cried Gunnarson, but he was too late - there on the ground was the dead body of Ms. Gadfrey, shot through the head.
He got closer to the body... to his shock, Ms. Gadfrey shot up, and immediately screamed "Where is he!? Where is that animal murderer!?" Gunnarson took a second look - what he thought was a gunshot was actually an open wound from a pistol whip. "Ms. Gadfrey, what happened?" Gunnarson asked, confused. "I managed to see the animal killer for a moment, but he was to quick... the last thing I remember is him raising his arm, but then everything blacked out." "He must have pistol whipped you; left you with a concussion to hope you'd forget his face," Gunnarson said. "I think he succeeded... everything is a blur to me..." she said before she fainted. "Come on, let's get her to her farmhouse" Kenneth said.
In the farm house, Sergeant Kenneth tended to Ms. Gadfrey's wounds, while Gunnarson talked to the farmhand. "You may actually have the clue that could break this case. Did you see anything prior to finding the dead sheep?" Gunnarson asked "Yeah... I saw the animal killer walk up to the herd." Gunnarson smiled at his fortune. "Tell me everything you remember"
*** Back in London, the attempt to find fingerprints on the bottle had failed. With no other leads or evidence to go on, Gent made a call. "With all other possibilities ruled out, I have no choice but to call this case an accidental suicide due to alcohol impairment," he told his fellow officers. He then ordered the scene to be cleaned up and the body delivered to the family to be laid to rest. "If there is no evidence to follow, there is no case to solve," Gent said to himself.
*** Gunnarson was talking to the farmhand, who was telling his story. "So I this guy walk up quietly behind a sheep. He pulled out a handgun, and shot it in the back. I managed to get behind him and scuffle a bit, but he threw me off and ran away." "Interesting; what do you remember about the man?" Gunnarson asked. "He had this long gray hair, and looked rather disheveled. When he looked at me, he had this look of panic in his eyes. When we fought, I only saw his face for a second; he had a rather large scar running from his right eye down to his nose, but the eye didn't look blinded. I did pick up a few things he dropped," and he put them on the table. There was the casing of the fired cartridge, some old coins, a ripped piece of sleeve and bits of potato. "I ripped his sleeve off in the scuffle, and the coins flew out of a pocket," he explained. Gunnarson looked at the potato. "Well, that explains why you never heard the gunshots. He's using potatoes as silencers; put them on the end of the barrel and they muffle the sound pretty well actually," Gunnarson explained. Then he looked at the torn sleeve. "It's not a common fabric or pattern- he will stand out in a crowd," he explained. Then he concluded, "Overall, his target is the animals, not people. Otherwise, he would have killed you and Gadfrey when he had the chance."
***
In London, at a local pub, a man was sitting by himself at a corner booth. It was quiet and there were less than eight other patrons in there... just the way he liked it. "Poor Malcolm... if only you kept your word. Well, here's to you 'friend', hope you find better luck wherever it is you ended up," he said to himself as he raised his glass then drank. A man walked up to him. He was wearing a gray plaid coat with the left sleeve missing, and had a gray wig and makeup kit poking out of his suitcase. "'Ello, Blade," he said, using the agreed-upon code name. "I can see your disguise in that suitcase, Fowler," "Blade" said. "Now look 'ere, no one's got eyes as trained as you. And anyway, no one'll think of good ol' me when they see "O'Connell" the senile old Scotsman, so I can shoot livestock at me leisure," Fowler grinned, somewhat drunkedly. "You're still wearing his coat, imbecile. And there is one man who can rival my intellectual prowess." Blade slid a picture down to Fowler. "His name is Gunnarson. He'll be at the Gadfrey ranch tomorrow. Shoot him dead." "Look 'ere, Blade, I can kill beasties no problem, but I ain't gonna kill no man." "Funny, Malcolm said that too. And now he's dead. If we're going to get the Gadfrey farm, you need to do as I say, or you'll be reunited with old Malcolm. Clear?" "Okay, Blade," said Fowler, and the two sat in silence.
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 10:23:56 GMT -5
Chapter Three: Invasion The next day, Kenneth felt unwell, so Gunnarson and Zoie Gadfrey were in the fields watching for whoever was shooting the cattle. Gadfrey was going around feeding the animals while Gunnarson escorted her. "I will tell you one thing," she said. "I am relieved none of my farmhands were behind the killing my animals; I wasn't so sure who I could trust anymore." "I am too. It means we have more reliable witnesses in case it happens again."
In a small grove of trees nearby, Fowler was in his disguise and watched Gunnarson and Gadfrey walking down to the sheep pasture. He took a swig of whiskey for his nerves, aimed at Gunnarson's skull, and fired. A gunshot rang out, and whizzed right between Gunnarson and Gadfrey. "What the? Shooter! Get down!" Gunnarson said to Gadfrey. A second shot was fired just as the two of them hit the ground. Another shot was heard. "Where is that coming from?!" a panicked Gadfrey asked. "Over there!" cried Gunnarson.
That's when they saw several gunmen rise from the treeline and begin to shoot anything that moved, farmhands and animals alike. "Run!" yelled Gunnarson, grabbing Gadfrey. The two ran, but suddenly - "UNGH!" cried Gadfrey, as she fell over, shot in the leg. "Oh no!" Gunnarson called out as he tried to help Ms Gadfrey. He sighed for a moment. "I didn't want to use it, but it looks like I have no choice." Holding Ms Gadfrey in one hand and helping her limp, he pulled out "his old service revolver" and fired with the other. Some of the farmhands got their shotguns and began returning fire. From the farmhouse, Kenneth woke up from the commotion. "What the?" he said as he heard glass shatter near him.
"Kenneth! Get on the phone! Get back up!" Gunnarson said as he returned fire. "OK!" Kenneth yelled as he went in to the phone. "Hello? Operator? Get me the local outpost, fast!" Kenneth said in a panic. However, no one was there. "Damn it!" "Ok, hang up and try again," he said to himself. Outside, the Gunmen were starting to pull out as Gunnarson and Gadfrey entered the house. "Kenneth, what the heck is taking so long?!" Gunnarson screamed. "I think I misdialed the first time; hold on, I'm trying again!" he said as he got the operator. "Operator, please, the local outpost, it's an emergency!" he screamed. "I think they cut the phone lines! Here, I'll get Gadfrey inside!" Gunnarson helped Gadfrey into the doorway of the house, reloaded his gun, and ran after the attackers. "Aim for the legs, don't aim for the heart," he muttered to himself. "I'm going to die!" Gadfrey sobbed. "No, you aren't. Just relax." "But who will take care of the farm when I die?" "You aren't going to... look, if it makes you feel better, we can go over your will." Luckily, Gadfrey had a draft of it in her pocket. "I just can't decide which one of my farmhands to give it to! They all say they don't want it, but if I don't give it to them, then who?" "Um... if I may be so direct, I've taking a liking to this place. Maybe I could take it? It would be in good hands." "Oh, thank you, Kenneth!" Gadfrey quickly wrote it in. "Here, I need a witness too." "Got it." Kenneth signed. "You didn't need to worry so much, a shot to the leg won't kill you." He pulled out his gun and shot Gadfrey twice in the chest. "But that will." Blade chuckled as he pocketed the gun. He would simply tell Gunnarson, if the dumb pacifist twit was still alive, that the Raiders had shot poor Gadfrey as he stood in the doorway. After all, who would suspect Kenneth of being behind all this? He smirked. Of course - no one!
The attacking gunmen had backed off. As the farmhands regrouped at the house, Kenneth had called out to Gunnarson. "Gadfrey's been shot! One of the gunmen must have got past me when I wasn't looking!" he informed. "No!! What's her state?" Gunnarson said. "She's entered some sort of shock; we must get her to the hospital," a farmhand said. "Ok, this is going to get out of hand too fast. We need to split up and figure out what the hell is going on," Gunnarson said. So, in the two trucks parked outside, two groups of three farmhands each went to a truck. "No bombs or traps; we're good!" One farmhand informed as they split up. One group went to the outpost to get the Home Guard, and the other went to bring Ms Gadfrey to the hospital. This left Gunnarson, Kenneth and two farmhands to inspect the premises for other damage.
"Well?" Gunnarson asked as the two farmhands came back. "Fortunately we only lost two sheep; the rest of the animals are fine. We found six bodies along the treeline, but the number of blood trails and places where we found bullet casings suggests there were 15 attackers at least; no more than 20 though," the farm hand explained. "Well Gunnarson, what can you make of this?" Kenneth asked about the attack. "Well, it is unrelated to the first shooter, I can tell you that," Gunnarson concluded. "Why that conclusion?" Kenneth asked. "Think about it; the first guy was only killing livestock, he didn't want to kill people. But this attack... they wanted to kill someone." Gunnarson concluded.
*** The first group of farmhands made it to the farm outpost. They quickly ran to the entrance. "Colonel Richards! We need your help! It's an emergency!" the eldest of the trio said. The colonel came up to them. "Blake? Conner? George? What are you doing here?" he asked. "It's the Gadfrey farm; there's been an attack! We held it off but they could be back at any moment!" Connor exclaimed. "Good lord!" the colonel exclaimed before blowing his whistle to mobilize the Home Guard in his barracks. "Come on lads! We've got scoundrels to flush out! The Gadfrey farm, quickly!" And the soldiers began mobilizing.
*** In a field far from any town or home, a group of twelve men had regrouped from the last attack. Nine of them had some kind of wound. One of them, holding his shoulder on his bloody shirt, came up to one of the men who was not injured. "We lost O'Reily, MacDunner, Olsen, Connelly, Warner and Williamson. Only you and a couple others didn't get shot sir, and it doesn't look like Brent or Darren are going to make it. What do we do?" he asked the guy, who seemed to be in charge of the group. "I can't believe that old witch still hasn't paid up. We, the members of the Irish Mob, always get what's ours, right boys?" said Finnegan, the leader of the group. "Aye!" replied his men as they all immediately grasped their bullet wounds in pain. "Come on, we'll go to the pub and get a pint to numb the pain, then we'll go back and take what's rightfully ours!" shouted Finnegan as his boys agreed and they trudged along to get some good Ol' Irish Whiskey and Gin.
Meanwhile, in a wooden box buried in a field somewhere, a body was finally stirring awake. "What the... Gunnarson, are you there!" shouted the body in panic. When no response came, he simply said to himself, "It seems I let myself be drugged, got to be more careful, but why am I in a box and why can't I open it... Wait a minute... Oh no! Someone, anyone! Come dig me out, please!" shouted Sergeant Kenneth as realization dawned...
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 11:07:21 GMT -5
Chapter Four: Brothers It had taken a good while, but at last Colonel Richards had organized 40 members of the Home Guard to go and reinforce the Gadfrey farm. "I've got to stay here in case of trouble on this end. Lieutenant O'Brian, you're in charge; follow the farmhands to the Gadfrey farm, it is only a few miles down the road." "Yes sir! Come on lads, let's show them what the Home Guard can do!" Lieutenant O'Brian ordered as the troops boarded 1/2 dozen trucks or so, and followed the truck the farmhands were in.
Gunnarson ran over to Gadfrey, but she was out cold and close to death. The phone line was still cut, so he couldn't call for help. Fortunately, Gunnarson had some medical experience, and knew what to do.
Meanwhile, Blade had dug up Kenneth. "Why are you digging me up?" Kenneth asked. "Because Gadfrey may survive, so I need to get the Gadfrey Emeralds buried on the grounds and skip town before Gunnarson catches me. And since everyone thinks we're the same person, killing you and leaving the body here will stop the manhunt for me." "Lionel... my brother... you don't have to do this!" "I'm sorry, but when you mess with Blade, you pay the price." He shot his twin brother in the chest. "Wow, this has gone way far south... I only wanted to kill Gadfrey, but then the Irish Mob showed up... I'd better find the Emeralds and get out of here with Fowler before this gets worse. I hope our other ally gets here soon..."
Gunnarson was tending to Gadfrey's wounds; he called outside to the three farmhands working on the second truck. Though one group had gone out to get the Home Guard, this second group was supposed to take this truck and bring Gadfrey to the hospital. "Darn that engine; get me a wrench will you?" one of the hands asked another. Of the two that were in the house with Gunnarson, one was trying to find where the phone line had been cut, and the other had a question. "Have you seen Kenneth? He seems to have just disappeared," he asked Gunnarson. "Kenneth? Kenneth!" Gunnarson called out. Nothing. "That's odd... where could he have gone too?" Gunnarson asked himself before going back to tending Gadfrey's wounds.
*** As "Kenneth" was making his way back to the farmhouse, the third associate he was expecting had finally arrived; he was waiting along a fence smoking a cigar. "About time; what took you so long?" "Kenneth" asked. "Sorry; had to make sure there was nothing connecting us to Malcolm's accident," the man said. "And..." "Well, see for yourself," and he handed "Kenneth" the London paper. An article talked about "Malcolm West's fall - accident caused by alcohol". "Excellent... my plan is worki-" BANG! And "Kenneth" dropped to the ground in great pain. He felt like death was going to come to him at any moment. "You traitor! We were working together on this! How could you betray me and Fowler?" he said as he clutched his stomach. "You have nothing to gain from this!" Blade said, still clutching the wound. "But... but I didn't shoot you!" "You did too-" and then he realized that that he was telling the truth. BANG! Another bullet shot out, this time hitting his head... and causing death. Blade's associate, angered, pulled out his pistol and fired two shots in the direction the prior shots came from as a warning, then he saved his remaining bullets and aimed. "Who's out there? Show yourself now!" He warned But there was no reply. "Who the devil are y-" SMACK! He was suddenly hit across the head with a metal beam, and fell to the ground. The assailant hit the body until he was dead...
Meanwhile, Gunnarson was outside, patrolling the perimeter of the farmhouse. "Kenneth? Kenneth!" he said, still not having found the officer. Just then, he stumbled upon something. "What the heck?" He picked up the object; sure enough, the inscription on the side told him it was Kenneth's. "I can't believe it! Why would he drop his watch?" "Huh?" a farmhand asked. Gunnarson looked it over. "Unfortunately it doesn't tell me much" he sighed. But the farmhand was concerned. "Look, you need to get some sleep; you've literally been walking around the perimeter of this house for the last three hours," he told Gunnarson. "But Kenneth is still out there... and I have a feeling there's something big going on we don't know about," Gunnarson said, looking at the sky. Then, he saw what looked like a bomb falling. "It's a raid!" He shouted, but the farmhand slapped Gunnarson across the face. It was only a trick of the clouds; a thunderstorm was coming in. "That's it, now you're going crazy, seeing things that aren't even there. Go get some sleep before you start seeing the boogeyman or something," the farmhand grumbled. Gunnarson looked up at the sky and sighed.
As he walked back into the farmhouse, he passed by the farmhand that was looking after Ms Gadfrey. "She's unconscious right now... I just wish there was more I could do," he sighed. "What about the truck?" Gunnarson asked. "Once the sun went down there wasn't enough light to work," he explained.
But fortunately for Gunnarson and the group of farmhands still there, down the road, reinforcements had at last arrived. "Took us long enough," Lieutenant O'Brian said from the lead truck. "What did you expect? Painting over all the street signs does make navigation confusing even to us!" a farmhand called out.
Gunnarson was laying down on a spare bed when he heard knocking. He went over to the door to see an older man in military uniform. "Detective Gunnarson?" "Yes?" "I am Lieutenant O'Brian of the Home Guard; I apologize for coming so late, but there were circumstances. Anyway, reinforcements are here," he said, pointing out the 40 men that came to help. Gunnarson sighed with relief. "Oh thank goodness! Please tell me one of you is a doctor," Gunnarson said, pointing to Gadfrey on the couch. "Good Lord! Cravett! Holmes! Get your medic bags out, now!" Two men with bags that had red crosses on them quickly ran inside and took over Ms. Gadfrey. "Well, it seems that quite a bit happened today. So what exactly happened?" O'Brian asked.
*** Some miles away, Fowler was just arriving at the meeting point, when he found his two colleagues slumped on the ground. "Blade? Wilcox?" he said in confusion as he slowly approached them.
***
So Gunnarson told him. "Wow..."
Meanwhile, Gent was investigating another death, this time also a man who fell off a roof, with a wine bottle next to him. "Hmm... such a coincidence, two deaths within the week that look similar. Inspector Wilbur, make sure you check for fingerprints." "Yes, sir." Gent was looking around where the body was something about the place seemed eerily familiar. "I say, Wilbur... that murder some days ago - what was the address? You know, the Malcolm West case?" "That? 24 Baker Street," Inspector Wilbur replied. "And... what is the address of this building?" Gent said... realizing they were, in fact, on Baker Street. "It's 26 Baker Street." "Warn whoever lives at 28 Baker Street not to wander about on their roof while drunk."
Meanwhile, Fowler looked at the bodies of Blade and Wilcox. Suddenly, the trapdoor opened and Blade and Wilcox climbed out. "Damnit, another body double dead. Someone is definetely out to get us. Get in here and we'll figure it out." Fowler followed them in, and latched the trapdoor behind them.
Three blocks away, their "murderer" returned home to 28 Baker Street. "Thank god Blade is finally dead... now I don't have to worry about his gang coming after me. Now I can resume my planning..."
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 12:06:15 GMT -5
Chapter Five: Emeralds & Arsenals Now in their safe house, Fowler, Blade and Wilcox were bringing each other up to date. Wilcox showed the newspaper, "Dismissed as an accident; there's no way to connect us to Malcolm," he informed. "I checked out the Gadfrey place before coming here... the Home Guard is there, at least 40 of them, total," Fowler informed as he was removing his disguise. "And now the Irish Mob's involved; they ambushed the place same time as you. Apparently they want something that is on the property as well," Blade concluded. "What could the Irish Mob want from an old woman's farmhouse?" asked Wilcox.
Meanwhile, Finnegan was talking with his boys on their plan of attack. "Now boys, in order to help our mates combat those Italiano bastards in New York, we'll need those weapons Mr. Gadfrey stole for us and smuggle them back to the Emerald Isle. If he hadn't double crossed us for that damn spy Elvira, we would be able to take over the city and be home and Dublin and not have to deal with this war any longer," said Finnegan. "So what's the plan Finn?" asked Callaghan. "O'Leary has infiltrated the Home Guard with some of our other boys. With the weapons we'll get from his infiltration gig, and the Gadfrey's stockpile, we'll win our turf wars and claim America in the name of the Irishmen!" shouted Finnegan. "Aye!" replied the crew as they clinked mugs and guns together. "We'll attack in the morning, before the dawn fully rises, and if that damn mysterious animal shooter or detective with those blasted farmhands get in the way, then we'll show them the true grit of a good ol' Irishman's fists, am I right?" responded Finnegan. The rest of the crew cheered in encouragement as they readied themselves for the raid in their secret hideout.
A car pulled up to the group of Irishmen. The group looked on in relief. "Doc, oh, thank goodness," Callaghan said as the "underground surgeon" took out his bags and layed out a couple tarps for the boys. "Am I too late?" Doc said as he began laying out his tools. "For Brent and Darren, I'm afraid. So there is seven of us you gotta look at," Callaghan said. Jock looked at Finnegan. "Say, that reminds me; how are we supposed to storm the Gadfrey place again when we've got eight men dead, seven injured, and three men unavailable because they're infiltrating the home guard? We're outnumbered four to one," he pointed out, before holding his left leg in pain.
*** At the Home Guard Outpost, twelve men remained on duty while the forty were over at the Gadfrey place. O'Leary and his two accomplices went into the armory to see what they could find of use. "What the? Bolt action rifles? Hunting shotguns? What kind of operation is being run here?!" O'Leary said in frustration. "Secondary outposts get the less important weaponry," Walsh pointed out. "Well it is a step above our Webley revolvers," O'Kelly said, trying to make the best of it.
Back at the Farmhouse, Ms. Gadfrey was rambling in a delirious state from her wounds. "Jacob... Why are you home all of a sudden from America... And what's with all those boxes... Don't tell me you're joining the war..." "What is she saying?" asked a medic. "It seems she's talking about her son, Jacob Gadfrey, he disappeared a few weeks ago and no one knows where. Well, that's what the rumors are saying at least," replied the other medic. Gunnarson needed something clarified. "Why would she have a son of she's not married?" he asked. "He's adopted," a farmhand explained. "During the Great War she lost her parents, and he lost his parents, so she took him in. They've been growing apart in recent years so she hadn't seen much of him." "Wait, the basement... Take me there," Gunnarson ordered.
The farmhand took Gunnarson and Lieutenant O'Brian down to the basement. There were several crates. A crowbar laid in the corner. "Open one," O'Brian ordered. The farmhand did, and they found some unusual circular objects. "Huh?" the farmhand said. "Wait... I know what these are. They are drum magazines to Thompson sub machine guns," O'Brian said as he picked one up. "What? Why would a farmer have ammunition for a sub machine gun in her basement?" Gunnarson asked. "Especially when you consider that these are useless without a gun to take them and fire the bullets," O'Brian said. "But there must be 20-25 crates down here. Do they all have ammunition?" Gunnarson said, intrigued. "Seems to be that way... Hey, look over there..." said a farmhand pointing to a corner. The group found five crates in the corner, and after some work with the crowbar, the lids were off, and underneath where multiple war issued sub-machine guns straight from the front. "How did they get so many of these down here?" asked a home guard. "Why is all of this in some all farmer lady's basement?" asked a confused farmhand. "I don't know, but I'm leaving the property for now, I have to make a few calls to Gent, maybe he can help shed some light," replied Gunnarson as he began the trek back upstairs and decided to leave the premise, thinking it would be safer to talk to Gent away from the farmhouse.
As the detective left, O'Leary and his goons, sent out the message: "He's gone, that damn detective is gone. Gather all of our boys currently uninjured and hidden throughout this quiet town and we'll begin moving these weapons." Finnegan replied, "Alright, we'll begin the distraction, I'll send the trucks your way." "Aye, just wait, this haul with be worth the hassle," answered O'Leary as he cut the line.
Meanwhile, Gunnarson took one of the spare cars at the farm and made the trek several miles down to the town. At a phone booth near the courthouse he made a call to Gent. "Gunnarson? Is that you?" Gent asked on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I'm tackling a case at Gadfrey Farms, and there is something I think you should hear about... there's a military grade stash of weaponry in the basement."
"What?!" Gent said in shock. Then he thought back. "Could this be connected to that Irish Mob stand off some months back?" he thought to himself.
***
O'Leary and his two accomplices had taken what they could from the armory. Because forty men had been dispatched to Gadfrey farms, there was not as much as they expected there to be. "Ok... so it looks like we have eighteen Enfield M1917 bolt action rifles, six Winchester Model 1912 shotguns, a few crates of ammo, twenty mills bombs and... this thing?" It was a coil of barbed wire. "This haul is rather... underwhelming," O'Leary said to his two comrades. "What did you expect? It's a secondary outpost, and with forty guys out at the farm they have most of the equipment with them," Walsh said. "There's only nine guys to worry about here. Once the trucks come we'll be out of here," O'Leary assured. "This load is gonna fit in one... maybe two trucks though," O'Kelly observed. "Once we get what is in the basement it'll be worth the trouble," O'Leary explained.
As the three began to move the equipment, little did they know Colonel Richards had heard the whole discussion, and quietly went to round up the other eight on duty.
*** Finnegan was getting a briefing on the situation from Callaghan, who had spent time observing the farm house. "There's forty Home Guard men, all seasoned military veterans, and eight farmhands, each of them have shotguns. Most of the soldiers have bolt action rifles, some have shotguns, but there appears to be a couple with Sten submachine guns. We've managed to round up about 33 or so of our guys, not counting O'Leary, O'Kelly and Walsh, but by comparison we're underarmed and going up against soldiers, and we'll be attacking in the dead of night. I'll be honest here; I don't like the situation... I just don't like it." "All in good time my friend... and in good time," Finnegan assured.
As the sun set, Blade, Wilcox, Fowler, and about twelve associates crept onto the farm. "Okay, the Gadfrey Emeralds are supposed to be buried in either the cow pasture, sheep pasture, or apple orchard. Me, Wilcox and Fowler will take four men each to search each place," Blade said. "Man, this heist is going horribly. I can't believe it." "Don't worry. Once we get the emeralds, we'll sell them and you'll all get what you're owed."
Gunnarson and Gent met up at Euston and discussed the situation. "Hmm... there seems to be more than one force at work here. I really don't know what to make of this one." Gent said, confused. "I'm surprised you haven't mentioned the emeralds, though." "Emeralds?" "Yeah, Zoie's father buried a fortune in Emeralds somewhere on the grounds. Maybe that's what they're after." "I don't think so. It doesn't explain the cattle, or Kenneth's disappearance... this is way too bloodthirsty for that." "Wait, what about Kenneth?" "He's missing, presumed dead." "Oh no... can this get any worse?"
As he said this, the man from 28 Baker street crept by, carrying a large gun with a bayonet fitted to it and trying to look inconspicuous.
"I'm Telling you Gent, this farmhouse is just full of surprises. First, there's the crazy old guy shooting cattle, then there's the stolen weapons stash in the basement, and now you're telling me there is buried emeralds on the farm? Damn, what have I gotten myself into?" Gunnarson told Gent. "Well, the farmhouse is secured; like you said there's forty members of the home guard and eight armed farmhands guarding it. Did you alert the army of the stolen weapons?" Gent asked. "Yes, they said they would send a detachment to pick it up; problem is with all the painted over road signs." "Oh, yes. But it is policy," Gent pointed out.
*** Some trucks of the Irish mob were trying to find the Outpost O'Leary had stolen the weapons from the Home Guard, but they were having difficulties. "Curse that damn policy of painting over the road signs... I can't tell where we are!" the driver of the first truck said. "I mean, I hate the Germans as much as the next guy, but was this really necessary?" his associate said in agreement.
*** The group was about to split up when Fowler looked in the direction of the farmhouse. "Get down! All of you!" he said to his associates as they hit the ground. "Fowler, what gives?" Blade asked. "Look... the home guard is still here... three dozen men at least," he pointed out. "Calm down... just keep low and don't speak too loud." Blade told the rest. Just then... "WHO THE HELL?!" Blade quickly grabbed his gun and shout. The man fell. "Why, it's... it's... who is this guy?" Blade said. He had shot the man in the leg and he came tumbling down.
"Listen you thug! No one is getting the Gadfrey Emeralds but me and my associates," Blade said as he and his four guys pointed guns at them. "Who are you calling a thug? And the Irish Mob doesn't give a damn about no emeralds. We just want the guns in the basement. You can have your precious stones for all I care," the Irish Mob scout said. Deciding this was a waste of time, Blade lead his men to his spot, while Fowler and Wilcox did the same with their groups.
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 12:49:53 GMT -5
Chapter Six: Die With Your Boots On
~Last Night~ As Blade's crew kept searching the farm for the emeralds, the Irish Mob's Home Guard men were taking the cache they could find. The truck had pulled up, and they were just wrapping up loading what they had found when... "And just where do you think you are going, O'Leary?" O'Leary and the two men with him, plus another man from the truck, turned around to find Colonel Richards with his handgun, and the other eight men of the Home Guard outpost armed with rifles, all standing in line, aiming. "I shouldn't have trusted you from the start... give me one good reason not to shoot you," Colonel Richards said as he and his eight men took aim. "Here's a good reason." One of O'Leary's men shot Richards in the arm. Richards dropped the gun, and a battle broke out between the two sides. "Get us the hell out of here!" O'Leary called as he jumped into the truck. The mob's trucks began driving away as the exchange of gunfire took place. The eight men of the home guard exchanging fire with six or seven Irish mobsters as the two trucks sped away. "Damn it all!" one man said. "Ah well, they got away with bolt action rifles, shotguns, ammo and some grenades; not exactly the most impressive cache," another replied. "But what are they for?" one pointed out.
Finnegan got a call from O'Leary. "I couldn't get much, but it's a good haul nonetheless," he informed. "Alright then, we'll be moving onto collecting that cache at the house. Gather all the boys, we're taking the house so we'll be able to get all of those weapons for our boys in the States," replied Finnegan. "Right Finn, I'll get right on that." answered O'Leary as he went to gather their crew.
*** That following day, the stage was being set for the climax of this chaotic case. On one side, the Home Guard, plus some farmhands defending the Gadfrey farm, waiting for a British military convoy to come and seize the weapons. There were forty Home Guard men, plus eight farm hands. The eight farm hands had shotguns, and thirty of the forty home guard men had bolt action rifles. Four had Sten submachine guns, three had Browning Automatic Rifles, and Lieutenant O'Brian plus two other officers with him had Webley revolvers. In total, there were 48 men. The Irish Mob totaled 38 men. With the weapons they stole, plus some help from "contacts", they were equipped with the eighteen bolt action rifles and six shotguns from the Home Guard, plus they got their hands on a further four more shotguns, three Tommy guns and three Browning Automatic Rifles (B.A.R.), though four men were stuck with Webleys. The Home Guard was mostly composed of older men, veterans of the army and volunteers who weren't drafted. They were mostly in their thirties and forties, some even in their fifties. The Irish mob was mostly civilians, but a good dozen or so were former military, and did a good job ordering the others around (as they put it). Plus, having inherited some guerrilla tactics from their fathers who fought in the Easter uprising, they had a bit of unpredictability on their side. But then, there was the twelve-man group lead by Blade, Fowler and Wilcox. They had mostly revolvers, though some had submachine guns, and they were the most clandestine of the three groups.
That afternoon, the Home Guard was made alert. One of the men stationed at the outpost drove over to warn of impending attack. They estimated they had only six hours or so, and began making plans and fortifications.
Finnegan and a scout were watching from a hill. The scout was telling Finnegan what he could see from his binoculars. "Looks like... they are improving barricades from haybales and spare parts for fences. Seems like... the cellar defense will be... they're chaining up the outside door to the cellar, but I can't tell about the inside cellar door. They're rigging something on the roof... but I can't tell what it is," the scout said. Finnegan listened with interest, all the while trying to find holes in the defenses. "It's your call; should we attack in one group, or try and come at them from multiple sides?" the scout asked.
*** Blade's group had met in a secret location, and had gathered around a map. "The emeralds are ours. After our preliminary search, I have no doubt that they are right... here!" And he pointed to a specific part of the map. One of the men swore. "The home guard can see us there!" "Then we'll have to sneak past them, Ruocco." Blade began to think. "Okay, Wilcox, take Ruocco, Poma, Knowles, and Bawdekar up to the ridge and distract the Home Guard, make them chase you back here. I'll sweep in with Nicholson, Cambria, Palepu, and Scinto to get the emeralds. Fowler, stay here with the others. When Wilcox leads the home guard past, shoot to kill." Wilcox took his men to the ridge and fired several shots at five Home Guard members stationed in the orchard. The Home Guard members went in pursuit, and as soon as they were out of sight, Blade's men arrived. Cambria and Palepu stood guard while Nicholson and Scinto dug.
Meanwhile, Finnegan had noticed where the soldiers had left to chase after Wilcox. "Perfect. A weak spot. That's where we'll attack." The Irish mob's 38 men had become 44 men thanks to "a favor called in from Dublin," putting them on more even ground with the home guard. "Personally, I don't care about whether they get killed or not - its the weapons that are important" one of the guys under Finnegan said.= "So anyway, one of the boys had an idea. If we take a couple of spare trucks, and drive them right at the farmhouse, we just might cause enough chaos with the distraction to force the Home Guard to look one way, while we take the weapons on the other side," he explained.
*** Gunnarson was waiting for the next train back. "There's something to this case I just need to figure out... and I think that last clue I got is exactly the break I need," he said to himself.
Back at the Farm, Finnegan had a few trucks act as decoys with Callaghan in charge as he and the rest of him men went through the less defended back way. "O'Leary, get those doors open!" shouted Finnegan as he shot a Home Guard member. "Aye!" responded the double agent as he and a few men used shotguns to blast the wooden cellar doors open. "Alright boys! Grab the crowbars and use those muscles! We're clearing this basement until we have every weapon on this damn property! Pick up weapons from those Home Guard bastards for all I care! Every weapon counts!" shouted Finnegan as his men began loading the trucks.
Meanwhile, other Home Guard members began fighting back, and both sides exchanged blows. One Home guard soldier targeted Finnegan. "Oy!! I hear you damn Irish like your booze! Hope you like cocktails, you bastard!" And he lobbed a Molotov cocktail at the Irish Mob leader. Just then, Mulligan, the Mob's best crack shot, shot the cocktail before it came even close to his boss. "Sorry, we only like Whiskey and Gin, no sissy English piss allowed!" he replied as he returned fire, causing the guard to fall down, injured. Finnegan thanked his subordinate and kept being in charge of his men moving the ammo crates from the cellar.
In another part of the battle, the Irish tried to enter through the house, but were held off by a couple men with Sten submachine guns. "Don't give them an inch!" Lieutenant O'Brian called as he fired upon them. In the cellar, several men were loading crates while a home guard soldier snuck up along the wall. He pulled the pin on is grenade before lobbing it down into the cellar door. One Irishman, Daniel, saw it. "Grenade! Down Down DOWN!!" he screamed as he pushed Mulligan out of the way, only for poor Daniel to take the brunt of the blast himself. He shrieked in pain as he fell down. "Daniel! No!" shouted Mulligan, "Murphy, Walsh, O'Sullivan! Get him out of here and have some of the boys make sure this doesn't happen again! Don't let that jackass get away scot free!" "Aye!" the trio responded as Walsh and Murphy moved Daniel and got more men from outside while O'Sullivan shot and killed the Home guard member who threw the grenade before he could get away.
The Irish had gotten about 1/3 of the stash onto three trucks parked outside the cellar door. A home guard soldier took a molotov and lobbed it at one of the trucks. Fire erupted out of it as the men on the truck grabbed what was in reach before leaping out. The driver, Doyle, had already caught fire and he ran out of the cab. "Oh God, help me!" he said as he tried to put the fire out. "Gladly," a soldier said as he raised his rifle and shot Doyle in the head. He fell down immediately. "Doyle!!!" a shocked O'Reilly screamed. "Glad I brought this!" shouted an angered Kelly as he loaded a rocket in a rocket launcher and fired it towards the front of the house. "How the hell did he get that?!" screamed a Home Guard member as he was buried in debris. "I was in the stash, you cocky bastards! You should have looked harder!" answered an annoyed Kelly. The rocket opened a hole in the wall, but the house was still standing. The bazooka packed a punch, but they needed it elsewhere. "Oy! Save the Ammo Kelly! You know we need it elsewhere!" Finnegan warned. "They brought it on themselves!" Kelly said angrily. "We've got 1/2 the stash loaded!" one guy screamed as the boxes kept getting passed.
Elsewhere, the distraction trucks suffered a blow. The driver of the leading truck suddenly took a bullet to the head. The truck suddenly sped up... and crashed into the side of the house. Callaghan, who was sitting next to him, got out of the truck, and fell down, losing consciousness from the shock of the crash. Walsh, one of the three Irishmen who infiltrated the Home Guard outpost, was trying to secure a position within the farmhouse when he suddenly ran into Lieutenant O'Brian himself. Without a second thought, O'Brian raised his revolver and shot him dead. "Damned traitor," he said to himself as he went back to commanding the fight. Outside, O'Leary was looking for the man who infiltrated the home guard with him and O'Kelly. "Walsh? Walsh!" He screamed as he held his position.
Meanwhile, Gunnarson was on his train, and had just gotten off at the station. As he left and made his way to a cab, off in the distance, he thought he saw a smoke plume. "What the?" he said to himself. He ran into the distance. At the orchard, he saw a man that appeared to be Kenneth, along with about 14 other men, digging. "Kenneth! Vad i helvete pรฅgรฅr hรคr? Var har du varit?" Blade (for it was obviously him) groaned. "Gunnarson! The Home Guard and the Irish Mob are fighting over the weapon cache!" "What are you people doing then?" Gunnarson asked, suspicious. "Um... we're digging a pit to trap the mob in." "Well, allow me to help." Blade sighed, knowing he couldn't maintain the ruse. He handed Gunnarson a shovel, then walked back, nodding at Scinto as he passed. Scinto aimed his gun at Gunnarson, but before he could shoot, another shot rang out and Scinto fell with a bullet through the head. A figure walked down the hill, holding a shotgun. It was the man from 26 Baker Street. "Hello Blade. Thought you could kill my brother Malcolm and get away with it?" Gunnarson looked up. Malcolm? The guy who'd fallen off the roof? But that meant... the detective's mind began churning.
Meanwhile, at a hospital in Barrow-In-Furness, Zoie Gadfrey was lying in bed. She had been operated on to remove the bullets, and was now drugged and asleep. "It's a miracle she survived that. But she'll have trouble breathing for life... poor girl. If only she could tell us who shot her..."
Back at the Orchard, a confused Gunnarson looked at the Gunman. "Malcolm? As in Malcolm West?" "Damn right! I saw everything that night. Blade here dropped Malcolm off the roof, then dropped a wine bottle to make it look like an accident," he said, now aiming his weapon. "What? You killed him?" Gunnarson said. "Go on and tell him about your twin Kenneth, too," Mr. West said. But then Gunnarson saw Fowler. "Wait a minute - the senile Scotsman that's been shooting animals works for you?" Gunnarson asked. "Senile?!" Fowler said, offended. (He was still in disguise)
*** At the same time, the Irish mob had most of the equipment loaded. But Finnegan decided the last bit just wasn't worth it. "We've got most of it, let's get out of here!" Finnegan called out to his comrades. "Sir! We've still got 7 crates in the basement!" O'Leary called out. "It's not worth it! We're gonna lose half our guys by the time we're done; we've got the important stuff, so let's get out of here!" Finnegan called as his men began racing for the trucks. They began pulling out. Some of the wounded and dead were loaded up as they retreated, but about eighteen men - dead, wounded or unconscious - had been left behind. "I regret that our brothers had to fall to get this stash... but rest assured, in the long run, the sacrifice will pay off," he yelled out. One Home Guard soldier took aim as they were leaving... O'Leary, the one in charge of the infiltration mission, took a bullet to the back as they retreated. "Arrggghhh!! They got me!" he said as he fell to the ground of the truck in pain.
Back in the orchard, Blade, Wilcox, Fowler, and their now-named associates Ruocco, Nicholson, Bawdekar, Knowles, Poma, Cambria, Palepu, Dexter, McKibbin, Brady, Friend, and Mรผller stood around Scinto's body and faced down Gunnarson and Mr. West. As they waited, they heard gunshots in the distance. "It's the Home Guard and the Irish Mob," Blade said. "We ought to stay out of the way." The fight for them was not going well. Both sides had several causalities. In the distance, a man in a tattered, filthy Scotland Yard uniform looked on. "I can't believe this," Kenneth said. "My own brother tried to kill me! It's a good thing I had that pocket watch in my chest pocket, otherwise that would have been the end of me - good lord, what's going on?" To his shock; there was a stand off, and Gunnarson was right in the middle of it. "I've got to find a way to help him... Damn it, he took my gun! Think Kenneth, think... Of course!" He ran over to something he could see just off in the fields.
Gunnarson was piecing things together. "So... You're not senile after all, that's just a disguise, and you were killing animals just to lure me out here?" Gunnarson asked, believing he had finally figured out Fowler. "No. To be frank, you're interesting, but unimportant. It was Kenneth we needed to lure here, and thankfully, we timed everything just right so Kenneth was with you when you were called here. Then... wait, am I seriously explaining my plan to you? Just shoot him, boys." Eight guns pointed in Gunnarson and Mr. West's direction, but all of a sudden...
Kenneth had commandeered a tractor from the field, and was driving it straight into the group of people. "Agh!! Watch out men! Move!" They jumped in all directions, Kenneth then yelling out "Gunnarson, Run!" as he prepared for another charge. "How the hell did none of you not hear a tractor speeding towards us?!" an angry Blade asked his men. "With the damn gunfire only a few feet away, it was was hard to hear it coming!" shouted Knowles. "Whatever!" responded Blade. "So brother... you tried to bury me, shoot me... what's next?" Kenneth asked. "Get him!" Blade yelled as his men opened fire. Kenneth was driving the tractor. Between the bright headlights how dark it was everywhere else though, it was difficult to see for Blade's men, making it hard to get good aim.
*** The gunfire died down as the Irish mob pulled out. "We left seven crates behind, but we still got 25 out of that raid, including most of the heavy stuff," one man reported to Finnegan. Then, another man came running up to Finnegan; by this point, the trucks had pulled off the road, and out of the way. "O'Leary's taken a bullet to the back!" he said in a panic, "We've got several injured, and Callaghan's missing," he finished. "This mission's been more trouble than it's worth! Alright, load up the trucks and let's go!" The sky was clouding over, and a little rain began to fall. The Irish Mob didn't realize they were on a collision course with the orchard until it was too late. As the trucks had trouble finding the road, they found themselves heading straight through the orchard. "What the? Agh!" Screams were heard on both sides as this time, some of Blade's men were hit by trucks, or very nearly hit by them. It was utter chaos as the mob tried to make sense of their surroundings. "Oh I can't take it anymore! I'm getting those emeralds and getting out of here!" Blade cried out. He ran for the hole he was digging. Where he saw a small antique trunk. "At last," he said with joy as he reached into the ground to pull out the box he was looking for.
Meanwhile, the Home Guard were now surveying the damage left behind from the Irish Mob, when Lieutenant O'Brien was told some very important news. "Well sir, it seems the Irishmen got away, we can only find the dead. Very few people were left wounded since these guys were completely 'shot on sight' for our boys," told Edwards, O'Brien's subordinate. "Well have we found any wounded, on either side?" asked O'Brien. "Well, we've found 5 wounded from the Irish Mob, one seems to be a top official based on eye witness accounts, but that's all we've gotten so far," answered Edwards. "Well this will do for now. Treat the wounded, gather the dead, and put those mobsters in irons. That is an order," said O'Brien sternly. "Right away Lieutenant!" responded Edwards as he proceeded to follow his instructions.
Meanwhile... "Idiots! Get out of the way! Curse those English policies... where's the bloody road!?" Finnegan boomed; other than headlights, there were no lights to go by as reference; he was literally driving aimlessly around the orchard with the other mob trucks that had gotten away. Blade was just trying to get at the case which he presumed contained the emeralds... when he had to get out of the way for an oncoming truck. "Blast that Irish mob! Get away from me you darn fools! The Gadfrey emeralds are mine!" Blade boomed. "Emeralds?" Gunnarson heard from the fence post he had taken position behind. Kenneth pulled up in the tractor; the chaos of the trucks in the orchard with Blade's men had caused a lot of problems. "Yes, it seems my twin brother has been driven by greed; he's been after those emeralds for a while," Kenneth said as he got off the tractor. "Twin brother?" Gunnarson asked in confusion. Suddenly, something hit Gunnarson in the head. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Kenneth's face, with a maniacal smile....
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 13:11:28 GMT -5
Chapter Seven: And In Conclusion... Gunnarson woke up a few days later at the hospital. Kenneth was there. "Where am I?" "In the hospital. You were unconscious for a few days." "What happened at the farm after I blacked out?" "Well, after you blacked out, it turns out Blade had come around to you, and struck you over the head with a shovel."
***
Blade grinned. "There's no point in killing him; waste of a bullet. Anyway, it's over Kenneth! I've got my emeralds, and I'm going to be a rich man!" he gestured to the trunk strapped to his back. "You'll never get those emeralds!" Kenneth screamed. He lunged at Blade, forcing the shovel out of his hand, and the twins got into a fist fight. Several members of Blade's gang shot into the fray, and the two were forced apart. Blade grabbed the emeralds, jumped into his truck, and drove off into the night. Unbeknownst to him, Wilcox, Fowler, and most of his other associates were left behind. "What the hell? Blade double-crossed us!" But it was too late. Mรผller, Blade's driver, knew the back roads better than anyone, and soon Blade, Mรผller, Nicholson, Friend, and McKibbin had vanished with the emeralds. Kenneth and Mr. West looked on. "Now what do we do?" "Kill the rest of these people." Mr. West said, raising his gun. Suddenly, the Irish Mob's truck rammed into Mr. West. "I think we hit someone!" yelled the driver. "It doesn't matter. Keep going!" Fortunately, the mob's driver was going rather slow at that point, due to his confusion, and only hit Mr. West at 10 mph. Since Mr. West also landed into a mud pile, it cushioned his fall for the most part. But likewise, eventually the three mob trucks regrouped and broke away. As for Blade's remaining men, the shock of being betrayed stopped them in their tracks. As it happened, a pair of police cars from the local precinct were doing rounds when they came across the group. Fowler, Wilcox and the others were arrested, while Mr. West and Gunnarson had their wounds tended too.
*** "And what of Ms. Gadfrey? I know we managed to get her to the hospital before this mess started, but I'm not sure about after that," Gunnarson said to Kenneth in the present. "Fortunately, most of the animals and all her farmhands survived. But... I don't know. The last I heard, she was barely holding on," Kenneth said solemnly. "Should we tell her what happened?" "No; in this state, that is the last thing she needs to hear," Kenneth said, now firm.
*** In some back room to an unremarkable building, the Mob trucks were being unloaded, and the crates were being opened to check what they had. "25 of 32... well, at least we got 3/4 of the lot," Finnegan said. Just then, Doc walked out of the makeshift infirmary. "I've saved most of them. But O'Leary... the undercover one... I've done everything I can, but I don't have enough blood to go around," Doc informed. Murphy came up next to Finnegan "Shall... shall I go get Father Brown, sir?" he asked rather timidly.
***
Some time later, Gunnarson was transferred to a London Hospital, and Gent came to meet him. "So you're telling me, what started as a case involving some crazy guy shooting animals, turned into this bloody mess involving the Home Guard, the Irish Mob and this cell after the Gadfrey Emeralds?" Gent asked. "Yes; we managed to capture most of the cell, but Blade and some of his associates got away with the emeralds. The Irish Mob and Home Guard each had some deaths, but there were slightly more death's for the mob. We only captured five of them, but there was one, Callaghan, who seemed to be a top guy. Kenneth should be able to fill you in with the details. And Blade was the man who killed Malcolm West; the bottle was merely to distract us," Gunnarson explained. "So the Mob raided the farm to get the weapons, which were brought there by Gadfrey's adopted son, and this cell raided the farm to get the emeralds. The cell also killed the farm animals to draw Kenneth out to the farm, and they are responsible for the death of Malcolm West?" Gent asked. "From what Malcolm's brother told me, the combination of owing money to Blade and not doing a job for him, it was practically a death warrant," Gunnarson explained. "I will reach out to the other police departments around England; we'll try and get the word out to keep an eye on them. The mob... heaven knows what those weapons will be for," Gent sighed. "I wish I knew; regretfully, a motive was hard to figure out here," Gunnarson explained.
*** At the mob's hideout, Finnegan was going over the weapons they had collected. "Well, we did miss a couple key things from the seven crates, but for the most part everything is accounted for." Finnegan had ordered Doc to keep working on O'Leary. "We'll pay extra if we have to, just save him, damn it!" he said. Doc came back at that point, "I did my best. He's stabilized, but I don't know if he'll last the night. If there is anything you need to tell him, I suggest you do it now," Doc explained.
Finnegan walked up to O'Leary and sat down next to him. "How are you feeling?" Finnegan asked. "Tired. Did we succeed?" O'Leary asked. "We lost some guys, but we did get 25 of the 32 cases. That, with the stuff we got from the Home Guard, should be adequate for our purpose. You did good, O'Leary; you and your boys took a risk and it paid off. Remember that." "Right boss. I think I'll take a nap now." O'Leary said as he went to sleep.
*** The sleeve ripped from Fowler's shirt that day matched the shirt he had been wearing; proving him to be the animal killer. With some men in custody, but others on the run, Scotland Yard had their work cut out for them.
Gunnarson had one last surprise for that day: Ms Gadfrey, in a wheelchair, being rolled into the room. "Ms Gadfrey! You survived!" "Yep, but my farm-managing days might be over. Between the emeralds and that weapons cache, I don't want to know what other unpleasant secrets my farm has, so I may retire to the seaside." "But what about your farm?" "I'm giving it to Mr. West, the man whose brother was killed by Blade before all this started. He's a strong person, he'll be able to run the farm on his own for a while." "And that adopted son of yours who left those weapons there?" "Oh, he's off fighting fascism in Germany. I'll let you know when he returns so you can find out why he stashed those weapons down there. It'll tie up some loose ends for you, I'm sure." "Oh, some officers were talking about another man who fell off a roof; where did that case go?" Gunnarson asked with curiosity. "Oh, that turns out was a pure chance coincidence. Man really was drunk when he fell off his roof; he was completely unconnected to this case," Gent explained. "A most interesting turn of events" Gunnarson mused. "Now get some rest Gunnarson; you've earned it after this mess," Gent said. "I don't work for you," Gunnarson quipped. "No, but as a friend, I'm telling you to do so," Gent chuckled. Gent left the room, leaving Gunnarson in his hospital bed, and Gadfrey in the wheelchair.
***"As for me, I must say, that of all the cases I've ever been a part of, this was definitely the strangest." "An amazing story," I said. "Yes, indeed, Hartley," Gunnarson replied. "An amazing case."
THE END
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Aug 14, 2017 13:12:33 GMT -5
Epilogue O'Leary, while lying in the bed, put his hand in Finnegan's. "Finn, I know my number's up, all I ask is you get me one last bottle of whiskey to numb this damn pain, and to get back at that damn detective and crook bastard that seemed to cause this mess to explode into a war zone," said O'Leary. "Right, O'Leary. Someone get him some damn whiskey! But don't you worry, we'll come back here and knock of those bastards after we deliver the weapons for the boss," replied Finnegan.
O'Leary took a swig of the bottle and said, "Thanks Finn, do me a favor, and make sure we can get back the control of Northern Ireland once and for all," said O'Leary as he shut his eyes and fell asleep, finally passing away... "What was that about?" the curious doctor asked. "Well most of our mob are former members of the 'Free Irish' movement, but the rest of it is not important," replied Finnegan.
Finnegan soon walked out of the room as Murphy walked up to him. "Finn, what should we do about the doc?" asked Murphy. "Make him know not to squeal before we leave, but you wouldn't stop me if it wasn't important, so what is it?" asked Finnegan. "The boss called, he wants to speak with you, and learn about the 'incident'," replied Murphy.
"Tell him I'll be on the phone in a minute, I can't wait to tell him about that damn detective messing up our plans, just wait - 'Gunnarson' was it? - the Irish Mob now has you in our sights," said Finnegan as he walked into a closed off room to talk to the 'Boss'...
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