I, The Tiger (A Series of Tank Noir Stories)

I, the Tiger

I, the Tiger (with apologies to Mickey Spillane and his book "I, the Jury")

The name's Hammer, Mike Hammer. I'm a private detective.

I may not be the swiftest player on the team, but I get there, eventually.

Some say I'm a heavy or a trouble-shooter. Others just call me a dick.

Whatever.

It was late in the evening, late in the year.

I was in my office in one of the Port warehouses.

It isn't very classy but neither am I.

My receptionist and I were about to lock up.

We'd had a couple of shots to celebrate the holiday season and the end of the day.

Emma-Kate Sherman, tough as nails with a heart of gold. I call her Easy, but she's anything but.

We were wrapping things up when the door burst open.

A dame came through in a hurry. Petite, French and built for speed.

But she looked like someone had gone over her with a Nerf bat.

Emma-Kate gave her a glare and left us alone.

The dame looked nervous. "Got a light?" she asked

"Nah," I said, "I do my own scouting."

"My name's Hammer. What's yours, sister?"

"How did you know?"

"It's written on my driver's license."

She looked at me strangely. "I meant I'm a nun. And names? Names are for efficiency reports."

A none? Well she wasn't doing so good now, but back in the day she'd have been a 5, maybe a 6.

Then she smiled. At least her lips curved. Her eyes were telling war stories.

She said, "You used to call me Elsie."

Elsie? I remembered her now. Elsie, Elsie Bis. She signed her last name on all her paperwork.

Many years ago I'd taken her to some games at the Park. Elsie was always good at spotting the other teams scouts.

But she kept sending me invoices for her time. I'd been hoping to get to third base with Elsie, but all I got was Bis on bills.

Whatever. "Why are you here? "

She sat down and pulled a veil over her face.

"And what's the netting for?"

"I'm in mourning - and I'm in trouble because of a couple of priests at the Abbey."

A chill went down my back. Strange things happen when you're up on the mount.

I'd spent many a cold lonely night looking into the abbess.

But I'd never been able to nail her.

"How much trouble?" I asked.

"I killed them."

I wasn't surprised – there'd been a lot of killings. I was starting to think of it as Abbey normal.

Just like Elsie to pick up a bad habit.

"What happened to poverty, chastity and obedience?" I asked.

"I'm none of the above."

In the distance I heard some whistles – incoming!

Then everything exploded.

She wasn't the one in trouble - I was!

Elsie had been setting me up for her big buddy, Arty.

Her smile had turned ugly and now she had a 90mm pointing at me.

I tried to bring up my gun but I wasn't going to make it.

"This is for all those bottom tier games you took me to", she said.

"And by the way, I'm a Reds fan."

There was another explosion and her smile turned to a frown.

There was a hole in her belly – she'd been critically hit.

"How c-could you?" she gasped.

Behind her I saw my receptionist Emma-Kate, with her smoking 76mm.

I looked Elsie straight in the eyes.

"It was Easy" I said.

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They say a bell rings every time an angel earns its wings.

Whatever.

But this time of year, whenever I hear the whistle of an incoming round, it reminds me of Elsie – my little Nun of the Above.