Part 9 (1/2)
”Okay, so how did he know to look for me there?”
”Honest to G.o.d, Bolan, I don't know. Nick isn't- wasn't wasn't, I guess he's a toasted weenie right now-he wasn't the most talkative boy around. He called me up the other night and told me to look for you at Dover.
He even gave me the name of the boat and the time and everything. Then after we lost you down there, he told me to look for you at that joint, that museum up there. That's all I know about it.”
”But you guess he had a pipeline, eh?”
”Yeah, it sure looks like it.”
”Okay, now about tonight. You said you were inside the museum. When was that?”
”That was about ten thirty, maybe a quarter 'til eleven. But we didn't see no old man. There was just this uppity little p.r.i.c.k, talked with a fancy English accent. We spent most of our time just getting up there where he was at, hadda tramp through all those queer rooms. They got some sick stuff in that joint, Bolan. Or I guess you know about that.”
Bolan said, ”Yeah.” His jaw had stiffened and his mouth was suddenly quite dry. ”What about those little rooms on the second floor? What was in them?”
”Buncha f.u.c.kin' torture stuff, you know what.”
”No people?”
”No people 'cept us. What're you getting at?”
”This little guy,” Bolan said. ”About five-six or seven? Stiff as a ramrod?”
”Yeah, that's the guy. Talked to us like we were dirt, and him queer as a three dollar bill I guess. I felt like sluggin 'im.”
”What'd you talk to him about?”
”Not me, it was Nick. They went off to themselves and parleyed about something. Just took a minute, then we left. Nick-”
”Who else did you see in there, besides this little guy?”
”There was a lotta people down in that c.u.n.t room, you know, kids. Getting ready for a party or something, I guess.”
”Okay, go on with what you were saying about Nick.”
”What was that?”
”You left. Then Nick did something.”
”Oh. Well, Nick sat out in the car with us 'til this guy came out, about ten minutes later. Then they took off together.”
”Who took off together?” took off together?”
”Nick and this queer little p.r.i.c.k. They took off together. Few minutes later the other queers started draggin' in. In fancy limousines, some of 'em. Cars dropped 'em off and went on. I never went back inside after that.”
Thoughtfully, Bolan said, ”But there were three boys inside during the firefight. They came out and threw down on me.”
”Well, that was something else all over again. Those boys found a tunnel or something, just before the fight started. We figured that was your way in and out, and we found your callin' cards-the three boys with the broken necks or whatever. Those boys went in under the ground to smoke you out, Bolan. That's all I know about that.”
”I think you're giving it to me straight, Danno,” Bolan said quietly.
”I am.”
”Okay, just one more thing. Where's the family headquarters in this town?”
”Aw s.h.i.+t, I just can't give you that, Bolan. That's too much, I could never live with myself.”
Bolan watched him for a moment, then said, ”Okay, I guess you're right. Get going, Danno.”
”You're letting me go?”
”A deal's a deal. Goodbye, Danno.”
”You're not, uh, going to shoot me in the back, Bolan.”
”You know better.” Bolan removed the clip from the Uzi Uzi and jammed it into his pouch. ”Just go on.” and jammed it into his pouch. ”Just go on.”
The caporegime caporegime could hardly believe his good luck. He struggled to his feet and said, ”I ain't really told you anything to be ashamed of.” could hardly believe his good luck. He struggled to his feet and said, ”I ain't really told you anything to be ashamed of.”
”You bet you haven't,” Bolan a.s.sured him.
”Uh, look Bolan. You're not all that rotten. I mean, no offense, I didn't mean it that way. I just mean I wish you'd been with us all along, instead of against us.”
”War is like that, Danno,” Bolan said tiredly. ”Now go on. Next time we meet, one of us will probably come out of it dead.”
”Just the same, I'm not forgetting how straight you are,” Giliamo told him. He stepped to the edge of the stage and leapt off, turned to stare back at Bolan briefly, then hurried off into the night.
Bolan murmured to himself, ”I'm not all that straight, Danno.” He put the clip back in the Uzi Uzi, went down the steps and returned to the car. His outer garments were lying across the back seat. Affectionately he patted the little submachine gun, knowing that he would not be using it again, and lay it on the rear floor, then he quietly began getting into his clothing.
It was shaping into a h.e.l.l of a war, he was thinking. How was a guy supposed to separate the good guys from the bad. If the Mafiosi Mafiosi were not responsible for the torture death of old Edwin Charles, then who the h.e.l.l was? And for what possible motive? were not responsible for the torture death of old Edwin Charles, then who the h.e.l.l was? And for what possible motive?
He was wis.h.i.+ng that he had never become involved with the Sades. But he had. And things were getting pretty badly entangled. Instinctively he knew that Danno had finally levelled with him. Bolan had taken all of the ham out of him as Stevie Carbon-Danno Giliamo had been talking straight. He was sure of that. So what did it all mean? That Ann Franklin's foster father was a rat? And if it should turn out that way, what would this mean to the girl? And what would it all mean to Bolan and to his ability to get the h.e.l.l out of the country?
Yeah, it was getting tangled. Very soon now he would have to be doing something toward a firm identification of friend and foe. And then there was Charles. Bolan had liked the old man, even if the acquaintance had been microscopically brief. Living as Bolan did, you learned to take your likes quick, and he had definitely taken to the old soldier.
So somewhere along the tangled threads Bolan meant to identify a s.a.d.i.s.tic killer, and he meant to see that justice was done.
Right now, though, more pressing business was demanding his attention. He completed his dressing and sent the Lincoln rolling silently back through the park, lights out and prowling on the scent of an ex-POW.
Bolan spotted him on the third pa.s.s, huffing along on foot down the west perimeter of the park. The slightly overweight Mafiosi Mafiosi was making better time than Bolan had expected. He ran the Lincoln into a stand of shrubbery, quietly said goodbye to it, and closed in on the prey on foot, taking up the stalk at a proper distance. was making better time than Bolan had expected. He ran the Lincoln into a stand of shrubbery, quietly said goodbye to it, and closed in on the prey on foot, taking up the stalk at a proper distance.
No, Bolan was not all that straight. There was more than one way to extract intelligence from an enemy. Whether he knew it or not, Danno was not yet entirely free and the interrogation was still underway.
And The Executioner was closing on the enemy camp. The a.s.sault on Soho, Stage Two, was in progress.
Chapter Thirteen.