The Monkees and the mobsters alike were gawking at these newcomers, unable to decipher why it was that they had come there. Rocco felt tense, certain that they were connected with the Syndicate in some way. Baby Face and Tony also had this suspicion, but everyone else was perplexed.
"I think we've got a right to know what this is all about," Tony finally spoke, glaring at the man who was holding a gun to his temple.
"Just do what we say, get into a circle, and no one gets hurt," the second man smiled, pushing Ruby forward with the barrel of his gun. She stumbled, caught herself, and glared back at the man, who did not care. "Resist in any way, and my buddy kills your friend over there." He indicated Tony, who crossed his arms and looked furious.
Linda gasped in alarm, suddenly feeling ill. She looked from Tony to Mugsy to each other person in the room, trying and failing to understand why this was happening. She could not understand why these men were so deadset on causing them trouble. Earlier she had accused Tony of doing something to make them angry, but she could see that he was just as bewildered as everyone else. And she was suddenly aware of something else as well—something that horrified and confused her and that sent her into an even greater panic. She placed her hands over her face and shook her head slowly, feeling her heart twist.
Davy looked over at her, puzzled. "Hey, Linda, are you alright?" he asked, just as the gun was shoved at him.
"Get into the circle," the man snapped before she could answer.
Davy jumped back. "Hey!" he frowned, but stepped into the designated area. The others followed suit.
The two assassins nodded in satisfaction. "Which one of you is Baby Face?" the first demanded, allowing his gun to click. Tony remained calm, plotting a strategy in his mind on how to get out of this mess. If he could just get his captor distracted. . . .
Baby Face glowered. "I am," he growled, stepping forward. "What's this all about?"
The second one's lip curled in derision. "Are you really Baby Face?" he asked skeptically, looking from him to Micky and then back again. They had been warned that there might be some confusion because of a double, but they had not realized that the resemblance truly would be identical. Baby Face and Micky were even wearing the same clothes—though Micky looked worried while Baby Face simply looked annoyed.
"Of course I am!" Baby Face retorted.
"He really is," Micky put in nervously.
"Why are you dressed just like him?" the first wanted to know. "Don't you know that you could get people confused that way?" He reached to get his arm around Tony's neck and pull him back, all the while continuing to speak to Micky. "We were told that you and he weren't friends at all, but you seem chummy enough."
"They were trying to kill each other a few minutes ago!" Davy exclaimed indignantly.
"That's . . . that's right!" Mike agreed quickly. "They really were! They had their guns out and everything. . . . It was only because of Peter that they didn't shoot!"
"Yeah?" The first one continued to glare suspiciously. "We were also told that the double wasn't a gangster, or a cop, or anybody like that. We were told that he's a musician. What's he doing with a gun?"
Micky grinned weakly. "It's a . . . really long story. . . ."
"Well, start talking!" boomed the first man.
Tony saw his chance. Without warning he shoved backwards with his elbow, catching the hitman in the ribs. With a cry of pain the taller man loosened his grip, stumbled back and doubled over, and Tony twisted the arm in whose hand was the gun. The weapon fell to the floor.
Complete pandemonium ensued. Monkees, gangsters, and women alike fought against the strange men who had barged in on them—tumbling over furniture, using furniture as weapons, trying to get all weapons away from them. . . . In the end, since there were so many fighting against only two, the assassins were subdued and held down by Rocco and Mugsy while the Monkees looked for rope to tie them up with.
It was then that yet another person entered the room—Mr. Fuselli. He stared in disbelief at the disarray—and at Rocco—and everyone else stared in disbelief right back at him.
"Boss!" Rocco exclaimed in shock, forgetting that Fuselli was no longer his boss. "You're alive!"
Fuselli gestured to the men that Rocco and Mugsy were restraining. "What's all this?!" he wanted to know.
"These people attacked us," Peter replied. "They didn't say what they wanted, but it had something to do with Baby Face." He was rather surprised himself to see Fuselli, but there were so many other strange things going on that this seemed minor in comparison.
The assassin pinned down by Mugsy looked up. "We're from the Syndicate, and we're trying to get back some papers that belong to us," he admitted. "Baby Face Morales came into possession of them a month or so ago, and we haven't been able to get them from him since then." He struggled against his captor, but Mugsy held on tightly.
"Oh really." Fuselli looked at them thoughtfully, and then to Micky and Baby Face. "Which one of you . . ."
"Him," all four Monkees answered, pointing at Baby Face.
Fuselli walked over to Baby Face. "I can get these people to stop bothering you, if you do something for me," he said calmly. He was among the highest-ranking people in the Syndicate, and he felt certain that he could pull some strings. He would not be willing to, however, if Baby Face would not cooperate.
The other mobster looked at him suspiciously. "What is it you want?" he asked, absently toying with the ruby ring on his finger.
"You've got somebody working for you who worked for me in the past," Fuselli answered smoothly. "I want him back—and I want those papers." He was not a fool, and he was quite aware that the papers could be very incriminating to all members of the Syndicate. Definitely they could not be left floating around. "You've gotten in over your head this time, Mr. Morales. If you value your life, I strongly suggest that you cooperate with us."
Baby Face narrowed his eyes angrily. He hated to admit it, but it seemed to him that Fuselli was right. He had tried to play games with the Syndicate and had failed. That had been what had caused the three-way gang war in the canyons, and it had nearly caused him to be killed more than once today. For now, it seemed to him that he would have to concede defeat in this matter. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright," he growled.
Ruby sighed in relief.
The Monkees blinked in surprise as they listened to the conversation. Then they looked at each other, wanting to be able to leave but wondering if they would be able to at this point. Also, it suddenly dawned on them that Linda was no longer in the room. She had departed right after the fight, but no one had noticed until just now.
Several minutes later, Baby Face had agreed to let Rocco go back with Fuselli—and to recover the papers, since they had proven to be nothing but trouble for him—and the assassins were being let up from the floor. Fuselli then left with them, leaving the remaining mobsters, Monkees, and Ruby standing in the room. They remained for only a few minutes longer, deciding that they needed to set the room back in order before they left. If they were lucky, perhaps the Chanels would never know they had been in there.
When they were done, Baby Face surveyed the room boredly, straightening his tie. "Let's try this again," he grumbled. "We need to get out of here before the cops show up." With that he walked over to Ruby and led her out of the room, not giving the Monkees a second glance. He dearly hoped that their paths would not cross again. That was the last thing he needed.
Tony and the others quickly followed suit, leaving the Monkees alone in the room.
Mike sighed, crossing his arms. "That was some experience," he remarked, then looked to Micky. "Are you back to normal now, Micky?"
Micky smiled sheepishly. "Yeah," he replied, "but I probably wouldn't be if it hadn't been for you guys." He frowned at the floor. "I feel so stupid, for thinking that I was Baby Face." Now that he had accepted his identity as Micky Dolenz, the realization that he had believed himself to be his mobster nemesis seemed ridiculous. He did not understand how on earth it had happened.
"Hey, you couldn't help it," Davy protested.
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "Ruby said that you told her you'd gotten attacked on the street."
"I did," Micky admitted, looking back up at them. "Then I laid down on a bench and went to sleep, and when I woke up, I thought I was Baby Face." He shook his head. "But it still seems stupid. How could I get that messed up?"
"The mind can do strange things, Shotgun," Mike answered, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You'd just been hurt and all . . . and, I don't know . . . I'm no psychiatrist, but I guess it probably had something to do with the fact that the one who attacked you thought that you were Baby Face. And maybe it was also because you really have pretended to be him a time or so."
"Don't worry too much about it, Micky," Peter said with a smile. "You remember who you are now, and that's the most important thing."
Micky smiled weakly, grateful to have such understanding friends. Then he swallowed. "I might have actually shot Baby Face, and he me, if you hadn't stopped us, Pete," he said then with a shudder.
"I don't think you would've shot him," Peter replied firmly. "That's just not who you are."
"That's right," Mike nodded.
Micky sighed. "I know, but still, I was so upset. . . ." He felt terrible about it. Peter could have even ended up shot himself if Micky or Baby Face had fired. They had all been very lucky, and Micky definitely did not want to press that luck. He knew that Peter was right, and that he should not dwell over things for very long, but sometimes it was hard not to. So many things could have gone wrong!
"Hey," Davy said suddenly, having just thought of something, "we should probably get going before we end up arrested for breaking and entering!"
Micky grimaced, coming back to the present. "You're right," he agreed. "Where's the car?"
Mike winced. "The car's not here," he admitted. "We came here with Tony and Baby Face." He walked out into the hall, turned lights off as he went. The others followed him.
Micky blanched at his statement. "Then . . . how are we going to get home?" he gasped.
Peter bit his lip. "Maybe we'll have to ask them for another ride," he suggested.
Everyone cringed, but they had to admit that Peter was right. "Come on!" Mike exclaimed, hurrying to the glass doors. "Maybe they haven't left yet."
****
As it turned out, they had not. Baby Face and Tony were engaged in a conversation, and the others were wandering about the grounds. Mugsy had realized that Linda was not with them and he was searching around for her when he suddenly heard a voice from around the corner of the house.
"Vince?"
Mugsy blinked and turned around, seeing Linda peering from the corner. Confused, he went over to her. "What's wrong, Linda?" he asked. "We should get going now, before the police get here."
She shook her head. "I'm leaving," she said firmly.
Mugsy stared at her. "Leaving?!" he repeated finally. "But . . . where will you go?" He had to admit that he had gotten quite used to her being around, since she had been there for the past several weeks. He had been happy to have her with them again, and though he had known that she would not likely continue to stay with them, he had not wanted to think about it.
"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh. "But I have to go, Vince. . . . This life just isn't for me." She shrugged helplessly. "Maybe I'll go somewhere far away, change my name, and try to start over . . . if I can."
Mugsy followed her around to the side of the house, still reeling from the shock. "You've always said before that you didn't have anywhere else to go, and that's why you hung around," he reminded her, "so, why . . ."
Linda held up a hand to silence him. "I know I've said that, and . . . well . . . it's still true." She looked down at the grass, then back up at him. It was strange, but she realized now that she did not actually want to go away. She knew that it had to be, but the realization made her feel melancholy and sad. "You, and Tony, and the others . . . well, you're the only people I have left whom I can feel comfortable being around." Her eyes narrowed. "Baby Face knows me too well," she said bitterly, and then sighed again. "Vince, I don't want to live the rest of my life as a gangster, running from the law. . . ."
Mugsy nodded slowly, but then frowned. "You've never been caught after what happened to that Dolenz guy," he pointed out. "Aren't the police still looking for you? If you leave and try to start over, you'll still be running from them."
"I think I heard that the Monkees dropped the charges," Linda said slowly. "Maybe it's just a rumor, but . . ." She turned away. "I have to get out of here now. You'd better hurry back to the others before they realize you're not with them."
Mugsy watched her, something suddenly dawning on her. "Isn't this sudden?" he said, grabbing her arm as she started to try to leave. "I mean, I know you want out, but . . . why now? Is there . . . some other reason?" He mulled over the events of the past few days, trying to remember if there was anything that had happened that would have specifically contributed to her decision. Then he thought he had the answer. "Is it because of Tony?" he asked.
Linda froze. Slowly she turned to look at him, her eyes revealing a mixture of emotions—guilt, surprise, agony, and something that he could not quite identify. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
"Well . . . I know the two of you have never gotten along well," Mugsy said, "but it seems like lately it's gotten a lot worse on your part. You're always starting some new argument with him, and calling him a 'lowlife' or 'riffraff'. . . ." He gazed into her eyes, wanting to understand. "Did he do something that made you upset?" He knew that Tony could be quite callous at times, and he wondered if the former police officer's attitude on gangsterism had finally gotten to Linda and made her outright despise him.
"No!" Linda answered fervently, and surprised Mugsy with the insistence of her tone. Seeming to realize this, she blinked in embarrassment and tried to speak calmly. "No, Vince, he didn't. He's still the same old Tony I've always known. . . ." Her shoulders slumped. "I was wrong, wasn't I?" she said out of seemingly nowhere.
Mugsy stared at her in confusion. "Wrong?" he repeated. "Wrong about what?"
Linda half-smiled. "Remember how I said before that if the opportunity came up, you would probably just betray Tony the same way you had both betrayed Baby Face?"
Mugsy nodded. "Yeah . . . but you were upset," he replied. That had been right after Henry had been killed and after Linda had told the others the location of the cabin where Baby Face was staying—which had become the stage for the three-way gang war that had badly injured Tony and had killed several others. He did not know if Linda had ever forgiven herself for that. Tony was still not completely healed from the incident, even though he insisted that he was fine.
Linda shook her head. "I shouldn't have said that," she told him. "You've always been loyal to Tony. I think . . . I think you think of him as a friend, don't you?" She peered up at him, wondering why she had never realized that before. Perhaps it was because she had believed that gangsters did not have friends. And yet, she and Mugsy had been friends for years. She liked to think that he would never betray her.
Mugsy looked at her in surprise. "We've been friends for a long time," he admitted, "ever since Tony first joined the gang. I was never close to Baby Face like I am to Tony. Baby Face . . . well . . . he's hard to get along with."
"That's an understatement," Linda said wryly. She leaned against the wall, debating over what to do. She knew that she had to leave. There was not another way, in light of what she had finally been forced to admit to herself only earlier that evening. She had not wanted to accept it, and she did not want to share her revelation with anyone else, and yet she knew that if she did not tell somebody, she would go mad. Mugsy would keep it a secret if she told him.
"I never thought I would end up being friends with a criminal," she said now, and then hesitated before adding, "or being married to one. . . ."
Mugsy sobered, remembering how upset Linda had been over Henry's profession. And in spite of it all, she had still loved him. When she had learned that he was dead, she had been broken-hearted. It had taken her ages before she had begun to heal at all, and Mugsy had the feeling that she was probably still grieving over him. "I'm sorry," he said, but Linda shook her head and continued.
"I guess that's just how it was supposed to be," she said helplessly. "Henry wasn't always like that. . . . I still don't really know what happened that sent him down a path of crime." She clenched a fist. "I've been fighting fate, Vince. I just can't stand the thought of history repeating itself. I don't want to see someone else I love die because of this stupid life of crime. I don't want to love someone who's mixed up in this mess at all!" For the first time, tears filled her eyes. "But it's too late for that. . . . Once again, it's just too late. . . ."
Suddenly Mugsy understood—and he still could not believe it. He stared at her, his eyes widening. "Linda, you don't mean . . ."
"I love you like a brother, Vince, but that's not all—I'm in love with Tony," Linda wailed. "I have been for a long time now, but I only just realized it tonight—when his life was put in danger by those terrible Syndicate assassins. I was afraid he was going to die then . . . and my heart nearly stopped beating at the thought." She looked up at him. "Vince, I can't go down that path again. Do you understand? It's too painful. I know my feelings won't just go away if I leave, but . . ." She shrugged helplessly.
He swallowed hard. And he had thought that just the news of her departure was a shock. "Tony doesn't know, does he?" he said finally.
"No." She smiled a bit. "I don't think he's ever stopped loving Alice. It's better if he doesn't know. I know that you won't tell him." She laughed lightly, though it seemed forced. "It wouldn't mean anything to him, anyway. I know he doesn't care about me in this way, if he cares at all."
Now she hesitated. "What was Alice like?" she asked at last. "Did you know her?"
Now Mugsy hesitated. "Not very well," he answered. "I met her a time or so, but she was killed before Tony ended up joining the gang. She was a quiet person, but she loved to laugh, and she and Tony were really in love with each other." He sighed softly. "Tony doesn't like to talk about her." He suspected that the events surrounding her death were part of what had pushed Tony to join forces with Baby Face, though he did not know all the details. Despite the fact that he and Tony were friends, the Brooklyn-born man had never shared a lot of deep personal feelings with him. Mugsy had come to believe that Baby Face was the only person who actually did know the entire truth of the matter. There was a certain bond between Baby Face and Tony, even though neither would admit to it—and even though they were not friends by any stretch of the imagination. Their connection was far more complicated and nearly impossible to fully explain.
Linda's expression saddened. She hugged her friend quickly, then pulled away. "Stay safe," she told him, "and keep Tony out of trouble . . . if you can."
"Linda, you don't have to go," Mugsy protested, but in vain. He knew that she would.
"Yes, I do." She smiled sadly. "We probably won't see each other again. Goodbye, Vince. Thanks for listening . . . and for being my friend." With that she turned and fled into the darkness. Mugsy stared after her, still reeling from the shock of what she had told him, and then finally turned away to go back to the others.
****
As the Monkees arrived outside, they stumbled across Baby Face and Tony conversing. Deciding that it would be unwise to interrupt, the quartet walked over near the cars to wait. "They can't talk for too long," Mike rationalized. "They're worried about getting out of here too."
"Are all the lights in the house turned off?" Davy asked nervously.
Micky nodded. "I made sure of it," he replied.
Peter smiled. "And I locked the doors, and an open window I found."
"That's good," Mike said absently, glancing back to the mobsters. He blinked in surprise when he saw them glaring at each other and then slowly reaching out their hands. They shook hands firmly and then turned away, each going to their respective cars. Baby Face looked coldly at the Monkees as he walked past them.
"Are we going to ask him for help?" Davy said to Mike in a low tone.
The Texan gulped. "Well, I don't know," he said hesitantly, wringing his hands. "Maybe we should try Tony." Mike did not find him to be as intimidating as Baby Face was, even though he did not relish the prospect of talking to either of them again.
"Who's going to ask him?" Davy asked.
"Mike," Micky and Peter answered instantly. Mike grumbled.
Tony looked up when the four of them came over to him. "What is it now?" he demanded, unlocking the car. Mugsy had just gotten through explaining to him that Linda had left because she could not stand to be in the gang any longer, and Tony was not really surprised by that. He had known that she would leave sometime, and he assumed that what had happened tonight with the Syndicate had been what had pushed her over the edge.
It was strange—Linda had left, and he and Baby Face had resolved their differences. Gangsters often have odd ideas about certain things, and even though they had both been trying to kill each other in the recent past, they had now come to the conclusion that it would be more profitable if they worked together once again. Tony did not know how long that would last. He was still quite apprehensive about the prospect, but he had decided to try. Certainly working together would be better than trying to kill each other, in light of the disasters that had been taking place since they had started being at odds.
Now Mike grinned sheepishly, shifting his weight. "Well, uh, we really hate to bother you again, but . . . we don't have any way to get home!" He gestured about at the yard and the cars.
"Could we possibly catch a ride back to town with you?" Davy put in.
Tony crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Then he sighed and opened the car door. "There's not enough room," he replied. "Someone would have to ride with Baby Face and Ruby."
Micky winced. "Well, he probably doesn't want to see any of us again so soon," he said slowly, wondering what to do.
"I'll ride back with them," the usually silent mobster spoke up then, from where he and Mugsy were standing to the side of the Plymouth.
"Fine," Tony grunted.
The Monkees quickly piled inside, along with Tony and Mugsy. "Thanks," Micky said with a weak smile, relieved that they would be able to leave. He had been afraid for a while that they would be stranded, and that it would be his fault. And if they had all wound up in jail, it would have been a disaster. He knew that he might very well have gone to jail for stealing if his friends had not found him.
"Yeah," Peter said brightly. "Thanks, Tony."
Tony shook his head and looked to Mugsy, who was in the driver's seat. "Let's go," he said firmly.
Mugsy nodded and revved the engine. Then they were on their way, the others following close behind in Ruby's car.
"Boy," Micky sighed, leaning back into the seat, "I hope we never go through something like this again." He tipped his fedora hat down, covering his eyes. He was exhausted, not having gotten much sleep in the last twenty-four hours. Once they got back to the Pad, he intended to sleep for about twelve hours straight through.
"Me too," Peter said fervently, and then suddenly blinked. "Hey, we still don't know why Baby Face had your identification card," he realized. In all the confusion, he had utterly forgot to ask.
Micky started. "He had my I.D. card?!" he exclaimed, tipping his hat back up to look at Peter.
"Hey, that's right," Davy remembered. "That's another reason why we thought he was you when we went to the hospital."
"Hospital?" Micky frowned. "It sounds like you guys have a big story to tell, too." The others nodded, and Micky sighed. "As for my I.D. card, I lost it at the falls," he said slowly. "Remember, I had to get a new one after that?" He shrugged. "It's weird, but I guess the old one ended up with him. He must've tried to use it to his advantage."
Mike shook his head. "You'd better remember to get it back from him," he declared.
Micky winced. "Don't worry, guys, I will," he replied emphatically. "The last thing we need now is for him to decide to pretend to be me!"
Everyone whole-heartedly agreed.