Previously on RUNNER RAMIREZ & THE RACETRACK FROM HELL…
Runner rides in the back of the racetrack official’s truck out into the Florida swamps. What does he spot? Why, a Summoner of demons of course! He learns that the owner of the track wants the man who’s been snooping around tracked…that just happens to be our own Runner Ramirez! They Summoner and the official head back into town to find a body to host yet another demon…
And now…
Runner Ramirez & the Racetrack from Hell
By Tyler Tarlton
Chapter 4
You youngins today take for granted that you can go have an adult beverage virtually anytime you want at a bar or even a restaurant. But back then you either had to make your own, which would probably make you blind or even kill you, or you had to risk arrest by going to a speakeasy. These things were put everywhere...barns, basements, cellars, warehouses, you name it. If it was secluded with a supply route that could be kept hidden then odds are there a speakeasy would be placed. There was an element of danger with drinking there, you never knew when one would get raided. Made for a very festive atmosphere.
We bumped over a set of railroad tracks and pulled off the road into a small field. The doors opened and shut with footsteps then fading off to the right. I waited a second then changed a look over the side. We were in an industrial part of town with several buildings clustered together. The suit and the Summoner walked toward the closest one. Once they got to its door they split up; the suit stopped and knocked while the Summoner disappeared around the building's side. A second later the door opened slightly and the suit stepped inside.
I sat up straighter and glanced around the area. There were no other vehicles to be seen anywhere. I knew that meant nothing; people were encouraged to park in distant locations and walk in to keep the locations from being made. There was one place in Chicago who told people to leave their cars at home and take the bus; not a city bus but one made to look like the real thing but in reality brought people to the owner's chain of speakeasy's. It was wild stuff but you just couldn't keep people from drinking. So I knew that the joint hidden in the industrial building ahead was probably packed to the gills despite the lack of cars outside.
I hopped out of the truck and made my way across the small field to the building's door. Up close it looked very rusty and as if it hadn't been opened for years. I stopped a few feet away and set my mind to thinking.
Unlike the bars of today you could not just amble up to these places and mosey inside. You could only get in if they knew you or were with someone you knew. They did not care for strangers or anyone unknown; basically anyone that could possibly be cops. I knew of only one possible way to get inside but it only rarely worked. But it was worth a try.
I stepped to the door and noticed that a piece of removable steel currently covered its view port. I pulled out my wallet and removed two C notes, the last bit of money I had in the world. I held the bills side by side and pressed them against the glass. I took a breath and knocked.
The metal slid open and nothing happened for a good 30 seconds. Then the metal slammed shut, confirming to me that I was out of luck. But then a 'click' echoed from within and the door eased open. I smiled slightly and stepped inside.
As with most such establishments the speakeasy in this particular building was not on the ground floor. After getting past the doorman he directed me to a staircase that spiraled downward for what felt to be the equivalent of two or three stories. Whatever this building had been in its previous life included a heck of a basement. Such a location was perfect for this line of business; both out of sight and out of sound. I could not hear anything until I reached a door at the bottom of the steps. Only then did the sounds of clanking glass and conversation reach my ears. I opened the door and the volume hit me like a clap of thunder. I stepped through and my eyes widened at the sight.
I stood on an elevated platform with a short series of steps before me. These led down to the main floor which looked to be half the size of a city block. There were bars on both sides with dozens of tables in between. A small dance floor occupied the center.
The elevated platform stretched to my right and left, narrowing to a small strip between the outer walls and the railing that overlooked the main floor. There were tables here too though they looked to be of higher quality with better dressed clientèle. That and the presence of a large guard at each entrance suggested that those were the VIP areas. I scanned each side and spotted the racetrack man and the Summoner seated halfway around the left side. If anyone thought the Summoner's clothes to be odd no one showed it. The pair did not appear to be talking; the track man scanned the room and the Summoner looked upward, eyes closed as if in a trance.
"Move aside."
The shoulder of a small but powerfully built man knocked me to the right, sending me into the corner of the wall. I turned and had to look down to see the guy. He was noticeably short with a snarl on his face. He stuck his finger in mine.
"Don't get in my way again boy."
The level of aggression in his voice did not fit with the routine bump that had just occurred. In moments like these I wished my friend would supply just enough juice to knock this joker to kingdom come. But I knew he wouldn't. So I also this guy, though shorter, was a lot more muscular than I so trying to take him with my own power was not an option.
"I'm so sorry sir," I said with a slight bow. "Won't happen again."
I took a step back. The man sneered at me then walked down the steps to the main floor. As he did I felt a small shock in my back. I looked up to the track man. He now stood at the rail and conversed with a very striking, and scantily clad, woman. She held a box at her waist from which hung a sign advertising for cigarettes and tobacco. The summoner was nowhere to be seen. The track man appeared to be giving directions as he pointed across the main floor, right at the short man I had just encountered. The woman nodded and turned. She walked for the set of stairs at the far end of the platform. I checked around for the Summoner then descended to follow.
The floor was packed both with those at the tables and those mingling about. I had to make some nifty moves to avoid getting drinks spilled all over me. If nothing else, being a runner in the trenches of France helped with my reflexes.
The short man angled for the far end of the bar on the right and dropped into the last stool. A drink appeared before him without an order being placed, he must be a regular. I drifted over to the closest table and sat down by two couples. Whether too drunk or excited they did not notice, I was even able to snag one of their drinks.
After a few seconds I saw the woman reach the floor and saunter over to the end of the bar. She leaned over, giving a pleasant view of her, um, assets. The short guy noticed immediately. He turned on his stool and I though his jaw would fall clear to the floor. The woman inched closer to him and whispered something in his ear. He got up right away and followed her toward the far stairs like a lost puppy. I hopped up and hustled after them. By the time I reached the top of those stairs the pair had disappeared into a door on the right. It was the first of five identical doors that stretched off in that direction.
I started toward the door when some conversation behind me and to the left reached my ear. I needed to follow the dame and the man but I had an intense feeling that I needed to hear what was being said. I sidled over to the railing and leaned casually against it.
"...I'm telling you that was her. She just went into the first private room with that man."
The owner of the voice was a young professional seated with a couple similar looking guys at the left bar. They appeared to be in the middle of an epic binge drink by the looks of it. Another man leaned across.
"So Joe went into one of those rooms with that girl and didn't come back?" he asked. "I must say I wouldn't mind getting lost with her."
A sudden slap came from the first guy. It shocked me and definitely shocked his friend.
"It ain't funny Pete," he said with a snarl. "Joe was my friend and he went missing just like Mark. Same girl too."
His friend leaned back and rubbed his jaw. He then signaled for another beer.
"Damn man, sorry," he said. "Why don't you call the cops?"
"What, and tell them my friends went missing at a speakeasy? You want me to bring them in here too?"
The pair continued their back and forth but I had heard enough. Joe and Mark must have been 'hosts' used by the Summoner for whatever sort of evil shenanigans he was involved with. Which meant the short man was in a whole heap of trouble. I rushed for the door.
Will Runner get to the short man in time? Just what is that woman up to? Find out next week in Chapter 5!!