Part 12 (1/2)
As they were ascending the steps, Turrin muttered to Giliamo, ”Now don't forget and call 'im Arnie.”
Giliamo nodded and stepped forward with a big smile. ”Glad to see you, Mr. Castiglione,” he called out. ”Christ, things have been going to h.e.l.l over here. I'm sure glad to see you.” Then the smile faded, and Danno pulled on a shocked face. Nick Trigger was standing there beside the great man, and he also was wearing a dumbfounded look.
Castiglione was giving Giliamo a thoughtful glare. He said, ”I'm glad to see you too, Danno. Nick's been telling me all about your f.u.c.kin' head getting blown off.”
Giliamo said, ”Christ, I thought the same about him! For Christ's sake, Nick, how'd you get out of that?”
Nick smiled pastily and glanced at Arnie Farmer. ”I don't know,” he mumbled. ”I think I got my brains rattled a little.”
”I think somebody's got something rattled, Castiglione growled. ”Let's talk about it inside. This's the lousiest weather I ever saw, Danno. Is it always like this over here?”
Turrin recognized the weather-talk as a subtle s.h.i.+ft of favor from Nick Trigger to Danno.
Giliamo had picked it up also. He replied, ”It's been pretty bad. They got a pollution problem, I think, but then who hasn't. And it mixes with the d.a.m.ned fog I guess, and you gotta wear warmer clothes than that, Mr. Castiglione, that'll never do over here, you'll catch your death o' cold.”
They went on past Leo Turrin with only a glance and a nod of the head from Arnie Farmer. Turrin nodded back and watched them go inside, and he was thinking that Danno was a Mafia politician to watch. Disarmingly frank and open, all smiles-and all the while probably, a switchblade concealed in his fist.
The man who had been driving the Castiglione vehicle came slowly up the steps and stood beside Turrin. Leo gave him a cigarette and they both lit up. The driver exhaled and said disgustedly, ”Big f.u.c.kin' deal.”
Turrin grinned and told him, ”Maybe you'll be Capo some day, Wheeler.”
”No way,” the wheelman replied. ”Not if I gotta act like that. That turns my stomach, Leo.”
Toby Wheeler was a member of Turrin's crew from Pittsfield. The name was obviously a Mafia monicker, but Leo had never heard any other used on the man. The story went that Wheeler had once been a racing car driver and twice had narrowly missed qualifying for the big one at Indianapolis. Now he was a valuable chauffeur, a wheelman par excellence par excellence. He sucked again on the cigarette and told his boss, ”I got to take that Caddie back to the U-Drive, Leo. It's pulling a little to the left in the turns. They shouldn't check out faulty equipment like that.”
Turrin nodded and said, ”Okay, I'll tell you when. Right now I want a report. What was Arnie talking about on the way in?”
”This'n that, mostly that. Buncha s.h.i.+t, really. All about what he's going to do to this Bolan b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And that other guy... what's his name?”
”Nick Trigger.”
”Yeah, that Nick Trigger... did you see his face when he spotted Danno? He was out at the airport on his own, to meet the planes. Do you know what he was talking about most of the way in here? He was telling Arnie the Pig all about how Danno had f.u.c.ked up everything over here, just everything, and about how Danno wound up walking into a Bolan trap and getting hisself splattered all over some street.”
Turrin smiled and commented, ”So that's what it was.”
”Yeah, and did you hear the first thing Danno says to Nick? He says for Christ's sake, how'd Nick get out of that. How did Nick Nick get out. And Nick had been telling Arnie the Pig that he wouldn't go with Danno because he knew Danno was all f.u.c.ked up. He told him that flat out, I heard it.” get out. And Nick had been telling Arnie the Pig that he wouldn't go with Danno because he knew Danno was all f.u.c.ked up. He told him that flat out, I heard it.”
”You better go easy on that Arnie the Pig stuff,” Turrin advised quietly.
”With all due respect to the good bosses, Leo, that's what he is. But you're right, I better go easy on it. I hear he took a territory away from a boy once just because the guy forgot to call him mister mister. Imagine that. Next he'll be wanting to be called Don Don Castiglione. Castiglione.
Listen, Leo, I'd rather not wheel for Arnie if you can get someone else.”
Turrin chuckled. ”Don't worry, Arnie will be rolling with his own wheelman from here on. You was just a courtesy. Say, is that all you got to tell me?”
”Naw, you were right, they're planning something. They were talking careful because they know I'm with you. And I couldn't put my finger on any one thing they said, but I know s.h.i.+t when I hear it. Take my word, Leo, they're planning something.”
”Okay thanks, Wheeler.” Turrin squeezed the man's arm and went on inside to join the others. Leo knew d.a.m.n well they were planning something. But that was okay. Leo knew how to make plans too.
It seemed that the park at Russell Square was being used as a marshalling point for the police. Bolan could hear the sharp commands and sound of running feet as the squads split off into their search areas. He had agreed that Ann would pilot the car; she slid in behind the wheel as Bolan put his things in and dived into the back seat.
A uniformed policeman ran into view and cried, ”Hold on there!”-but the car had already begun to move and was picking up momentum in a quick plunge down the alley.
Whistles were sounding back there, and a sudden swirl of blue suits in the area they had just vacated revealed to Bolan the narrowness of their escape. And they were not all that clear yet.
The little car swerved into the street below Russell Square and skidded off into an easterly run. Bolan threw a leg over and fought his way into the front seat as a tootling wail of sirens rose up to plague their rear. He asked the girl, ”Do you know where you're going?”
”Not just yet,” she gasped. ”Never worry, they'll not catch us.”
Bolan could believe it. She was an expert driver, and she was pus.h.i.+ng the car to the limit of the terrain, zig-zagging through the London maze in a way that would make downstream interceptions very unlikely. After several minutes of this it became evident that they had gotten away. The sounds of pursuit became fainter and more confused, and Bolan told her, ”You're some wheelman.”
”It's my first time,” she admitted, the dark eyes flas.h.i.+ng with excitement. ”I mean, very nearly.”
They were running easy now, angling toward the Thames and slowly working into a westward swing. The town seemed fully awakened, and the streets were becoming choked with buses and private vehicles as the off-to-work crowd descended on the inner city.
The girl told Bolan, ”I believe I've decided where we shall go.”
”And where is that?”
”Soho Psyche, for now. We'll spend a few hours there, until things cool off a bit, then we'll be off to Brighton. I've a cottage there. And it will be a perfectly smas.h.i.+ng place.”
Never mind smas.h.i.+ng Brighton, Bolan's mind was still hung up on that first place. His eyes narrowed somewhat and he echoed, ”Soho Psyche?”
”Yes, there'll be n.o.body about but the cleaning personnel-and surely no one would think to look for you there. Then the cottage in Brighton will make an ideal layover. We'll keep you concealed there until we can find a way to smuggle you out of the country.”
”Wait just a minute,” he growled. ”What's the deal on Soho Psyche? I don't know that I-”
She interrupted with a peal of nervous laughter.
”How rotten of me, I a.s.sumed you knew. The Psyche is my place, at least half of it is.”
”Who owns the other half?” he asked darkly.
”Major Stone is my partner. But never worry, if you're still thinking of your dreadful suspicions. The Major rarely visits the place, he's what you would term a silent partner.”
The whole idea was a bit too overpowering for Bolan to a.s.similate immediately. He mulled the thing through his mind, finally growling, ”Okay, we'll try it.”
She smiled. ”I have a flat there. We shall be quite comfortable.”
”It seems that you have flats all over London,” he replied drily.
She tossed her head and said, ”Not really. The place back at Queen's House is merely a convenience for me. You'll never realize what a luxury absolute privacy can be until you've lived my life of the past few years. Sometimes I simply must get away from all of it. Queen's House is my getaway place.”
”Yes, you mentioned that,” he said, still watching her narrowly.
”The flat at the club is another convenience, a business one though, I a.s.sure you. Frequently I'm there until all hours. It's nice to have a place to refresh one's self from time to time.”