D. MacHale - The Never War

“The spaceman comments are getting old,” I said.

“Who was that guy?” Spader asked Gunny.

“Name’s Maximilian Rose. He’s a businessman who lives in the penthouse here at the Manhattan Tower. He’s got more businesses than Heinz got pickles.”

“And?…” I asked.

Gunny took a quick look around to see if anyone was listening. He continued in a whisper, “And he’s about as crooked as a rattlesnake in an accordion factory.”

I looked at Spader. Spader shrugged. “Who’s Heinz and what’s an accordion?”

Gunny continued, “What I’m saying is he didn’t make all his money being an honest businessman. He puts up a respectable front, but he is a very bad individual. Trust me on that.”

“Those gangsters in the subway,” I said. “Do they work for Rose?”

“No, they’re from a whole ‘nother gang downtown.” ”Is there anyone in this town whoisn’ta gangster?” Spader asked.

“I know three for sure,” said Gunny. “You, me, and Pendragon.”

“Swell,” said Spader sarcastically. “It’s your basic tum-tigger.”

“Tum-what?” asked Gunny.

“Let’s just go inside, all right?” I said. Hearing these guys confuse each other was getting almost as old as the spaceman comments.

A few moments later, a doorman wearing a uniform similar to Gunny’s held open a heavy, glass door for us and we stepped into the lobby of the Manhattan Tower Hotel. The place was even more spectacular inside than out. It gave me the feeling that I was in some huge, rich-guy mansion. The ceiling of the lobby soared up three stories and was decorated with stained glass scenes of a beautiful green forest. The sun shone down through the glass and sprayed colored specks of light all over the room like a kaleidoscope.

We walked on thick, oriental carpets under giant crystal chandeliers that looked as if they’d come from a European castle. Several sitting areas had red-leather furniture where people sat chatting or reading newspapers. Nobody spoke above a whisper. It was like being in church, or a library. It was pretty obvious that you had to have bucks to stay here. This was no cheapy hotel like the one my parents took me to at Niagara Falls. That place was skuzzy and smelled like b.o. Here you could eat off the floor. Not that you’d want to. Everyone I saw looked as if they had just stepped out of an old-fashioned department-store window. All the men wore suits and hats. The women had on dresses.

There were only two people in the whole room who looked totally out of place-me and Spader. I was feeling pretty stupid wearing a bright blue suit with shoes to match. Spader didn’t look much better in Gunny’s big coat.

“We’re out of our league here,” I whispered to Gunny.

“Nonsense,” Gunny replied. “You’ll fit right in.”

Yeah, right. If we were circus people here to juggle for the good folks.

“Come with me,” Gunny said, and walked off.

We followed him, staying close, hoping nobody would notice us. Gunny walked through the lobby like he owned the place. He had a slow, smooth walk that said, “This is my house and I’m proud of it.” Several people nodded and smiled at him as they passed. Gunny knew everybody’s name and had a little something personal to say to each of them.

“Afternoon, Mr. Galvao, see you again next month. Hello, Mrs. Tavey. I see you’ve been to our beauty salon. Very lovely. Mr. Prevett, your luggage has all been sent ahead, just as you requested.” The guy was good. He knew every guest by name. No wonder he was a captain.

We made it across the lobby and up to a bank of shiny, brass elevators. Gunny hit the button.

“Where are we going?” asked Spader.

Gunny glanced around casually to make sure nobody could hear him. “They’re doing a big renovation up on the sixth floor,” he said softly. “Nobody will know if we have a couple of spacemen staying there.”

That sounded pretty cool to me. We were going to be staying in the swankiest hotel in New York, with a whole floor to ourselves. Not bad. The elevator door slid open and Gunny motioned for us to enter.

There was a guy inside. He was a little dude, about my size, with wire-rimmed glasses, who wore the same uniform as Gunny. The only difference was he only had two gold stripes on his sleeves and wore a round cap with a flat top.

“Going up!” he announced professionally.

“Sixth floor, please, Dewey,” said Gunny.

“Yes sir, Mr. Van Dyke,” he said with a squeaky voice. “Sixth floor.”

The little guy was the elevator operator. He slid the elevator doors closed, pushed the handle, and the elevator immediately started…down. “Oops, sorry,” he said. He pushed the handle and the elevator jolted to a stop. He struggled with it and the elevator shook. He finally found the right gear and we started to go up. Phew. The operator gave us a sheepish look of apology. I didn’t get his problem. Up, down, start, stop. Not a whole lot of options. I had the strong suspicion that this guy might be a nimrod.

“This is Dewey Todd,” said Gunny. “His father built this hotel.”

That explained a lot.

Dewey looked up at Gunny with a scowl. “I asked you not to tell people that, Gunny. I don’t want people treating me different. I want to make it in the hotel business on my own.”

“Well, you’ve almost got the elevator part, mate,” said Spader, trying to hold back a smile. “That’s a good start.”

Dewey smiled proudly. He didn’t get the cut.

“Sixth floor!” he announced, and slid the door open. We all made sure the elevator was safely stopped and everything was cool before stepping out.

“Enjoy the costume party,” Dewey said. “Those are great circus outfits!”

“We’re spacemen,” I corrected.

“Oh, sorry.” He closed the elevator doors and we were alone.

“He really is a fine boy,” Gunny said, chuckling. “Just a little confused sometimes.”

“I know the feeling,” I said.

The sixth-floor hallway was definitely being worked on. The walls were bare and there were painting tarps spread out all over the place. As Gunny led us down the corridor he explained, “This was the first floor they finished when the hotel was new, so it’s the first they’re going to modernize.”

Modernize. What a joke. They were trying to make this floor look like 1937. Not exactly “modern” by my standards. We reached the end of the corridor and turned left into another long corridor. Gunny walked up to room 615 and used a key to open it up.

“Welcome home, gentlemen,” he said.

The room was huge. Actually, it was a couple of rooms. I think they call this a suite. I could imagine that when the work was finished, this was going to be a pretty fancy place. But right now, while they were doing the renovation, it was being used as a storage area for chairs and sofas.

“You sure this is okay, Gunny?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he answered with confidence. “It breaks about eighteen different hotel rules, but I’ve been here long enough to pull the right strings. Just don’t go ordering room service.”

There were a bunch of sofas lined up in a column along one wall. They were up on their arms and reached almost to the ceiling. All we had to do was bring two down and we’d have a comfortable place to sleep. There were big cushy chairs, along with a bunch of stacked tables. There was only one thing missing.

“Where’s the TV?” I asked.

Gunny gave me a curious look. “The what?” Duh. TV wasn’t invented yet. “Never mind,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “How about a radio?”

“I’m sure there’s one around here someplace,” answered Gunny. “Are you two hungry?”

“Absolutely,” I answered.

“I could go for a kooloo fish and some sniggers,” said Spader.