In 500... (or less)

The Canary

Abe looked over his shoulder one last time before going into his room.

"Will you relax, already?" Capt. Bals said. "Nothing's going to happen to you as long as we're here."

"Thanks Frank. But when Al wants you dead, he finds a way."

It was his neck or theirs. O'Dwyer had him dead to rights and it was either cut a deal or go to the chair. Abe decided to rat out his friends.

First there was Goldstein. He had been one of Abe's closest friends. Abe tried not to get caught glancing at his friend during the trial. He knew what was going to happen to poor Goldstein.

"You can tell that rat Reles I'll be waiting for him in hell with a pitchfork," Goldstein told reporters as he was shoved onto a train headed on a one-way trip to Sing Sing. Abe swore the lights at his hotel room flickered the night they executed his friend.

But O'Dwyer had bigger fish to fry. After all, the politically-minded prosecutor couldn't be mayor if he didn't take down some of the biggest mobsters in town. The DA wanted Al, and Abe Reles had the goods on him.

Abe knew his old boss had already had the conversations with Costello and Luciano. Police protection or otherwise, there was no way they were going to let him sing in court. Having an 18-man detail committed to him, 24 hours a day, probably wasn't enough.

Frank gave a light rap on the door and poked his head in the room.

"Night shift will be here soon, Abe," he told the nervous mobster.

"Who's on it?" Abe asked.

"Charlie and couple other guys," the police captain said. "We got five guys outside this room. There ain't no gangster getting in here. Get some sleep. You got a big day in court tomorrow."

A big day indeed. He was going to spill the beans about how Al ordered a hit on some of the fellows at the docks. Abe knew where all the bodies were, he could describe how each person had been killed.

He drifted off to sleep, telling himself he was doing the right thing, even if Al managed to get to him eventually.

Abe awoke to shuffling in his room.

"Who's there?" he asked in a panic.

"Shhh...it's me, Charlie. Keep your voice down."

"What's going on?" Abe had been awoken a few times in the middle of the night by the protection detail, usually due to suspicious characters lurking about the Half Moon Hotel.

"We gotta move you," Charlie explained. "This place ain't safe."

Abe started to get dressed and headed for the door.

"Not that way!" Charlie whispered loudly. "Those guys are on the take. Tie this around your waist, we gotta do it through the window. Got a guy waiting on the street for you."

Abe took the bed sheet rope and tied it around himself while Charlie fastened the other end to the register.

"You sure it's safe?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Got it all tied in with some wire. Now hurry!" the detective told Abe as he warily ventured out of the window.

Abe started down the side of building, perhaps four or five feet, before the other end suddenly gave way. He plummeted to his death, landing on the kitchen roof a few floors below.

"You can sing, canary," Charlie muttered out the window, "but you sure as hell can't fly."