Blue Madonna by James R. Benn

both of them?”
    â€œOnly one. He was trying to finish off Donald here.” The poor guy was confused and uncertain of our intentions. He cowered against the wall, shivering in fear and numb with shock. “It’s all right, we’re friends,” I said, trying to keep him focused. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
    He nodded, aware enough to like the sound of that idea.
    â€œNobody downstairs,” Big Mike said as he lumbered into the room, sledge in one hand and .45 automatic in the other. “Hey, looks like a slaughterhouse in here.” He holstered his pistol and set down the sledgehammer, taking a medic’s field kit from across his broad shoulders.
    â€œWho . . . who are you guys?” Blake managed to say, looking frightened as Big Mike loomed over him.
    â€œWe’re the cavalry, kid,” Big Mike said, getting down on his knees. “Billy, move, will ya?” He cut away the shirt around the bloody wound and sprinkled sulfa powder front and back. “Don’t worry, buddy, it’s a through and through, and I think it missed the bone. You’ll be fine. Coupla minutes, you won’t feel a thing.” He took out a morphine syrette and jabbed Blake in the thigh, squeezing the tube between his thumb and finger. Then he pinned the tube to Blake’s collar to signal how much of a dose he’d been given.
    â€œThose guys still out cold?” I asked as Big Mike wrapped a compress bandage around Blake’s shoulder.
    â€œWhat guys? I said the place was clear.”
    â€œI thought you meant no one was conscious,” I said. “I clocked two guys with the billy club in the kitchen before I made my way up here.”
    â€œNobody there,” he said. “Give me a hand.” I helped him get Blake up, and we headed for the hall.
    â€œKaz, check the kitchen and the back,” I said. “There were two thugs down there.” He scampered ahead, Webley raised and ready for business.
    When we got downstairs, Kaz greeted us with, “No one here.” He was definitely disappointed.
    Outside, a small crowd had gathered, a few workmen, older gents resting on canes and women with grey hair tucked under their headscarves. Kaz stopped to talk to them. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be careful. Two black market criminals have escaped and may be dangerous. Please keep an eye out so they do not return to carry off the coffee and clothing stored upstairs before the police arrive.”
    With a smile, he stepped off and helped Big Mike guide Blake to where they had garaged the jeep. As one, the crowd looked at the broken front door and surged into the house. One gentleman cautioned the others to let the ladies go first.
    â€œNo reason to take a chance on the villains returning,” Kaz said. “There were tins of ground coffee, stacks of wool shirts, and boxes of shoes. A gold mine for these poor folk.” In the few minutes it took to get the jeep out of the garage and on the road, we passed an elderly couple with bulging overcoats and grins on their weathered faces.
    I wasn’t too worried about Willie’s and Nick’s return. Besides losing all the goods stashed in the house, they’d let the Morgans’ get-out-of-jail-free card escape on their watch. They’d be lucky to live out the week.
    â€œThere’s a small hospital attached to the airfield,” Big Mike said. “I scouted it out in case we might need it. We’ll get him patched up and then head out, the sooner the better.”
    â€œI don’t think we need to worry about the Morgans finding us,” I said.
    â€œI ain’t worried about them,” Big Mike said. “Sam wants us back in London with this guy in one piece.” He crooked a thumb at Blake, who gazed dully ahead.
    â€œLet us hope he is not badly wounded,” Kaz said. “This city is dreary. I’d rather dine in London tonight.”
    We arrived at