A Pure Double Cross (29 page)

I'm not crying in my beer about Jimmy. We fought World War II to defeat guys like him, half smart thugs who got too
big for their britches. But I feel bad about The Schooler. Worse than bad, he was an honest crook.

Here is what I've concluded. Loyalty isn't for saps, trust is. Loyalty is based on something - your track record. Trust is pie in the sky.

The Schooler walked down that pier trusting that I wouldn't plug him in the back and Jimmy wouldn't plug him in the front. A sharp guy like The Schooler should've known better. Neither one of us had earned his loyalty. The Schooler's death was his own damn fault.

Which brings me to Alfred and Frieda. I was loyal to them because they rescued me and held me from harm. I told them what was coming. They remained inside their farmhouse and entertained the assembled
Panzertruppen
on piano and violin in order to drown out the drone of the B-24s. I didn't kill them. They chose to be heroes.

I'm not a real hero of course, not even close. But if people want to slap you on the back and buy you a round then I guess you've gotta let ‘em.

Lizabeth?

She got away. The white seaplane made it back across that dotted line in the middle of Lake Erie before the Grumman Goose could hunt it down. I don't imagine she's in any dire straits. Lizabeth makes friends easily.

The Mooney Brothers?

I called their phone number. The girl who answered said the family had moved away, wouldn't say where. Back to County Cork if they knew what was good for them. And yes, she said, all three boys were alive and kicking.

And Jeannie? Does the hero get the girl?

What can I say? Our timing is plain lousy, Jeannie's and mine. Our first reunion took place while I was helping Jimmy beat the crap out of her husband. And our last reunion was a long embrace at the head of a pier littered with shit-smelling
corpses. I told Jeannie how I felt about her and she returned the favor. But we took the hint. Jeannie and I weren't meant to be.

They pass out horns and party hats, must be about time. Wally dons two hats, on either side of his head, like horns. He's having a great time. We down a shot to 1946.

I try to get into the New Year's spirit but old questions tug me back. Why did the FBI pick me of all people? And fail to back me up once they did? The counterfeit cash I could chalk up to Chester Halladay trying to be clever, or cheap. But sending Wally in a '39 Hudson when I had a good chance to shag the mob's weekly take to Mr. Big, well, it stunk to high heaven. Smelled like the whole operation had been a sham from the start.

The why of that is beyond me at the moment.

The crowd whoops, hollers and sings “Auld Lang Syne.” I think about that hoary old elevator operator in the Standard Building, the one with the oversized Adam's apple, the one who pointed his bony finger at me and said,
You'd best go home.

And here I am, in Cleveland, Ohio. The best location in the nation.

John Knoerle began his creative endeavors in the early 70s as a member of the DeLuxe Radio Theatre, a comedy troupe in Santa Barbara. He then moved to LA and did stand-up comedy, opening for the likes of Jay Leno and Robin Williams.

Knoerle wrote the screenplay
Quiet Fire
, which starred Karen Black, and the stage play
The He-Man Woman Hater's Club
, an LA Time's Critic's Choice. He also worked as staff writer for Garrison Keillor's
A Prairie Home Companion
.

Knoerle moved to Chicago in 1996 with his wife Judie. His first novel, “Crystal Meth Cowboys,” was optioned by Fox TV. His second novel, “The Violin Player,” won the Mayhaven Award for Fiction.

John Knoerle's novel, “A Pure Double Cross,” was the first volume of a 1940s spy trilogy featuring former OSS agent Hal Schroeder. The second volume, “A Despicable Profession,” was published in 2010. John has now completed the American Spy Trilogy with “The Proxy Assassin.”

You can learn more about John Knoerle's novels at
http://JohnKnoerle.com