The Yankee

Chapter 1
The Yankee

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Chapter Description: An idea I've been playing with for some time now which has seen countless reimaginings and reinventions over the past several weeks. UPDATE: Formatting fixed!

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The year was 1920 and a brand new Lincoln worked its way up to the doors of a large warehouse. The car was driven by Detective Ellis of the NYPD, who looked exactly the way a detective ought to with a long trench coat and a wide brimmed hat which he neatly fixed to his head as he got out. He pulled a fifty cent cigar out of his coat and introduced it to a lighter he had pulled out of thin air and which vanished up his sleeve again just as quickly. Some folks asked why he kept it there. His answer was always the same: What’s it to you?

Taking a scan of the area, Ellis saw no other cars nearby. The pier was at his ten o’clock, and the tide was low. He heard a noise at five o’clock and when he turned to make it twelve he was met by the face of a frightened boy about ten years old and twenty yards away. Up until recently, he’d been rummaging through a garbage can. Before another moment could pass, the kid bolted down an alley and was gone.

Ellis of course did nothing. He had a more important job right now, but there was something that felt wrong. He’d been on the force a while and this was not his first rodeo, as they say. But this was also not what he expected to find.

"You sure this is the place, rookie?" he asked his partner who was doing battle with a map and a magnifying glass.

"2077 South Pier. This is it, sir." he said.

2077 South Pier. Exactly what the caller said. "Well I don’t like it." Ellis said, "Keep the motor running awhile. A quick getaway might be in order."

"If you don’t mind, sir, that seems unnecessary." his partner regretted saying that pretty quickly.

Ellis almost growled. "I do mind." he said before drawing his gun and walking to the door of the warehouse.

He was right to be suspicious. The caller was anonymous and they could only go by her word. Usually this wasn’t too important, but this caller mentioned the Yankee by name. Walter MacDonald. There wasn’t much to tell about the caller except that she was a woman, beyond that there was nothing to go on. Still though, there was nothing to go on with this case either, and the Yankee, while not public enemy number one, was still big.

Ellis reached out to open the door, but it was unlatched and was pushed open by his outstretched hand. "Good," he thought, "less paperwork." He walked right in, revolver cocked and ready to go off at the first inclination. All he needed was a reason.

Too bad the warehouse was too dark to shoot anything. The only real guide was the sound of Jazz music off in the distance. Ellis pulled out his lighter. It was still too dark for shooting, but at last walking wasn’t out of the question anymore. After following the music a ways, he saw a yellow light at the head of a set of stairs and could hear a couple people talking.

"Where the devil are they?" asked the broken voice of a teenager.

"Don’t worry, they’re on their way." said an older voice, "If I know Ellis, he’ll beg to come. Alone, if need be."

"I don’t like it. You’ve got it made here and you invite a cop? You personally invite him?"

"I didn’t do it personally, I had Spitter do it anonymously. Besides, they could have sent anybody."

"You knew they’d send Ellis, though."

"I knew he’d come either way."

Ellis made his lighter disappear again before taking a careful step up on the stairs. It creaked, but the music overpowered it.

"God, I love that jazz. They really treat Harlem too poorly." the man said, "I’d take brass over Brahms any day! How about you sonny?"

"I think you talk too much."

The trumpets blared again and Ellis took two more steps up, slowly.

"I think I talk just enough. Remember what I did to you Sonny? I can always do it again. I think Spitter could do with a little brother, don’t you?"

Three more steps for a trumpet solo.

"You wouldn’t." the teenager said, "I got guys."

"I got the power, and I’ve done you nothing but favors."

"Some favors! No one takes me seriously anymore. That’s your doin’."

"I’m not the one who’s face wound up in the papers. You can still walk around in daylight. That’s my doin too, Sonny Side."

Sonny Side! Ellis’ ears were burning! Extortion, racketeering, vandalism, assault, and three counts of murder. He’d personally closed three cold cases by arresting him. He’d been part of a prison break six months back. There was just one problem. Sonny Side was in his fifties. The trumpeter was closing out the song, and Ellis was a bit too quick to take another two steps. The first wasn’t heard, but the second went another two bars after the record stopped playing.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes, Sonny, I heard it. Did you hear it too, Ellis?"

He gripped his revolver tightly.

The man chuckled, "Don’t pretend you’re not there, we both heard you. Come on up, I’ll pour you a drink."

He was found, and he knew it. "Walter Macdonald!" he shouted, "We have the place surrounded." he bluffed, "Come out with your hands on your head!"

"Over an anonymous tip? I’ve had enough jazz for one night. Do you like ragtime?"

Ellis heard footsteps above him, calm and measured, and a shadow passed over the light upstairs. He heard a slight clutter then a swinging Joplin tune rang out.

"I’m telling you, Ellis, these fellows know their stuff. Can you hear it down there?"

"I am giving you to the count of three!"

"What happens then?" the lad shouted, "You shoot the walls? You can’t get us down there, copper."

"One!"

"Do you know what they call this song, Sonny?"

"Two!"

"Yeah, the Entertainer, you told me."

"Three!"

"Sir!"

A switch somewhere was flipped and the lights all came on at once. Ellis turned to see the freckle faced boy from before holding a gun to his partner. It was easy to see he’d held one before.

"Drop it, Ellis." this must have been Spitter, the voice was familiar. So it wasn’t a woman on the phone after all.

"Now listen, kid, you don’t have to do this." Ellis said slowly as he slowly lowered his gun.

The kid cocked his, "I said drop it, buddy."

Calm measured footsteps echoed through the place as the Yankee stepped out onto the stairs, looking like he’d lost three members of his barbershop quartet. "I’d do as the boy says, Ellis." he crooned in his slick voice, "I promise I won’t hurt either of you, cross my heart, but we can’t have you waving something so dangerous around. Somebody might get hurt here!"

"Shoot him, Ellis!" his partner shouted.

BANG!

The boy had fired a shot in the air and cocked his gun again a bit too quickly for an amateur. "I’ll do like you, Detective. I’ll count!"

"Listen to me!" Ellis shouted

"One!" the boy barked.

"You don’t want to-"

"Two!"

"Alright!" Ellis shouted, "Alright. I’m putting it down." He held his gun on its side and laid it gently on the ground.

"Good job, Detective Ellis." the Yankee said, clapping his hands in mock applause. "You too, Spitter."

"Anytime, boss." the kid said, "Now you coppers get moving! My finger’s getting mighty itchy!"

They were both marched up the stairs by this ten year old kid who was careful to snatch Ellis’ gun on the way up to the room with the yellow light. Inside it looked like a library. There were dim lightbulbs all over which turned everything yellow and red. Shelves of books lined the walls and a stack of records sat on the coffee table next to a nice big gramophone which had just finished playing the Entertainer.

"Welcome to hell, Coppers." said a scrawny looking teenager with long black hair and a greasy white shirt.

"Come now, Sonny, is that any way to greet a guest?" The Yankee pulled a switch, turning out the lights in the rest of the warehouse again, before closing the door behind him.

"Guess not." Sonny said with a smirk, "My sincerest apologies, gentlemen."

"That’s much better, Sonny. Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to the new and improved Sonny Side from Battery."

Ellis was impatient, and he was tired of holding his arms up. "What do want with us, Walter?"

"Call me Yankee. Everyone does." he said, picking up a decanter.

"What do you want with us?"

"Shut up, mister." the kid barked

"Easy, Spitter. Yankee says be nice. Here," Sonny said, taking the gun, "I’ll handle things. You search ’em."

"No problem."

"Excellent idea, Sonny. Can’t have them spoiling the party." the Yankee had just finished pouring three glasses of brandy, "Do you drink?"

"Ever hear of prohibition?" his partner squeaked.

Spitter in the meantime had moved on to Ellis and had just found the hidden lighter. "I’m keeping this." he said.

"You not on the job anymore, my boy." Walter cooed to the rookie, "You don’t have to pretend you don’t ever live a little around me. Besides it won’t matter at all pretty soon, so do have some."

"My partner said no." Ellis growled, "And so do I. What do you want with us?"

"Suit yourself." He shrugged. The Yankee downed his glass in one gulp then moseyed over to the gramophone, "I only wanted to show you something, detective." he said, turning the record over to the Maple Leaf Rag.

"What?"

He took six steady measured steps towards them once again and stood in arms reach of both of them. "This."

His arms shot out towards the two, his hands gripping the sides of their heads. Both of their bodies were instantly thrown into wild convulsions as their legs gave out beneath them. He let them go, but they didn’t stop. As they tossed around on the floor, something strange happened. Their shoes fell off. The two men were getting smaller.

"What’s the matter copper? Can’t sit still?" sneered the scrawny teen.

"Look at ’em squirm!" laughed Spitter.

"Don’t poke fun, boys, you did it too."

The two policemen were in absolute agony as they felt their bones twisting and collapsing. Ellis felt his face itching violently and he reached up as best he could to scratch it, but the sleeve of his coat was too long and covered up his little hand. He’d find out later that this was when his mustache had fallen out. All the while, the Maple Leaf Rag was pounding away on the gramophone.

"Jesus, man!" Spitter shouted, "How far back are they goin?"

"Far enough to learn their lesson."

They both settled down, slowly, and stopped thrashing. Then they began to stir, like children waking up in the morning. What they found was a lot of heavy cloth covering their heads which used to be their clothes and when they’d both worked their way out, they looked at each other and saw what happened. It hadn’t taken long, no matter how long it felt. They could still hear the Maple Leaf playing just as strong as ever, so it can’t have been more than a minute at most.

In front of them stood a giant fourth of a barbershop quartet, "Rise and shine, kids. Now you’ve seen just what the Yankee can do."

Ellis stood there, naked as the day he was born, and looking like that hadn’t happened more than five years ago. His partner hadn’t gotten all the way up. He looked the same age, and he just couldn’t understand it. He could think of nothing to do but curl up in a pile of his old uniform, and start gently sucking on his thumb.

"Well, I think that went quite well, don’t you, boys?"

"Oh yeah." chortled Spitter and Sonny, "Like little angels."

"Look at you, Detective." Walter sneered, getting down to the children’s level. "Are you ready to take me on now? This is how I took the streets, big guy. One boss at a time. Codan from West Side? Orphanage. A little catholic family adopted him. The Falcon? Selling papers on Broadway. Sonny Side and Spitter, from Battery and Hudson respectively, stand here before you. That’s because they made a deal, and I’m gonna offer you the exact same thing. You can go out on the streets if you like. You might get picked by a copper and taken to the orphanage like a little lost puppy, or maybe you’ll just starve to death in the cold, or worse. I’ll leave that to your imaginations. It’s okay, though, because there’s an alternative. You can work for me."

"You-" Ellis stopped. His voice. He really was a little boy.

"Yes?" Yankee asked like an impatient schoolteacher.

"You can go to hell, Yankee." he said under his breath, "I’m never gonna work for-"

"I’ll take it." Ellis was shocked. He turned his head so fast it nearly snapped off. The rookie had stopped sucking on his thumb and taken Yankee’s offer. "Please, sir" he whined, "I don’t want to go to the orphanage."

"What are you saying, Rookie. You don’t want to do this."

"I don’t want to go to the orphanage, and that’s the best you can get on the streets."

"You won’t get much better with him!" he shouted

"Now, now, kiddies, no fighting. Our boy here has some good points, Ellis. What’s your name son?"

The rookie choked a little before shyly saying, "Michael."

"Michael! That’s a fine name. Can I call you Mikey?"

The rookie nodded.

"And how about you, Ellis? All these years and I never learned your first name."

"Stuff it up your nose, Yank."

"Your parents must have really loved you." He stood up again, walked over to the coffee table and pulled open one of the drawers to reveal two neatly folded outfits. Short pants, suspenders, knee socks, two tiny t-shirts and two pairs of brown leather shoes that he could fit in the palm of his hand.

"This is gonna be good!" Sonny said, barely containing his excitement.

"Would you like one, Sonny?" The Yankee said, losing patience for Sonny’s taunting, "I always keep a few extras lying around just in case." Sonny’s laughter fied there, and Walter turned his attention back to the children, "These are for you both whether you take my offer or not. I’m not cruel enough to send you out into the world in your birthday suit, no matter who you are." the Yankee was having too much fun playing Santa Clause here, "Of course, I had to guess the sizes, but they should fit fine. Go ahead, try them on. See if they fit."

He handed the two sets of clothing to them, and while Mikey obediently put them on at once, Ellis stood by.

"You stupid?" Spitter said, "Or is it too hot for you?"

Ellis had no choice. He resented the idea, but he had no choice. He slowly slipped the small white t-shirt over his now meager frame, then the socks. They went all the way up to his knees, but the shorts came just shy of them. Now, Detective Ellis of the NYPD, the scourge of the underworld, was just another round faced, snot nosed, pouting little boy.

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Ellis never took the Yankee’s offer. Instead he went to the streets and tried to find the boys that worked for him. Anytime he did, he always made sure there was a cop around to get them caught on something. He always found something. He was quick though, and was never caught himself, or at least not for several months, at the end of which he turned himself in. Being a little boy of five doesn’t make living on the streets an easy thing.

Of course, the Yankee and his boys had to vacate the warehouse, as this was the last known location of two missing cops, but it didn’t really do much good. Wherever they went, they could hear sirens no matter how careful they’d been. It took a while, but on December 20th of 1921, he caught Mikey on the phone with the police. He was pretty badly hurt when the police got there, and the Yankee was nowhere to be found. But the devil had run out of foxholes now and it was only a matter of days before the net closed in on him.

Michael was well cared for and made a speedy recovery. In less than a week he was ready to leave the hospital, but it was understood that he had to go somewhere. And so on Christmas day, he was taken to the very same orphanage as Ellis, who was proud welcome him as his best friend.

 

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