Part 6 (1/2)
”Does that mean I've got the problem of the century in my town?”
”First, let me straighten this out. Is the woman saying that the guy was in the house all the while? That he could have been there when Winters died?”
Tatum replied, ”No, I didn't get that from her statement. She's apparently convinced that Winters did indeed kill himself. Even said that she had lately been concerned that something like this may happen. Said her uncle had been severely depressed, moody-obviously under some great strain.”
”Maybe he knew that Bolan was stalking him,” Braddock mused. ”Would that be a valid theory?”
”Nothing official,” the San Diego cop replied, ”but I've heard a few whispers about Winco Industries. They were under investigation once- the federal boys-but apparently nothing came of it.”
”You said the dogs were still alive and active when your men got there?”
”Yeah. Very much so. So you tell me, Tim. Is Bolan good enough to climb a hundred feet of sheer rock?”
”He's no fly,” Braddock replied thoughtfully. ”Did you test the dogs?”
”For what?”
”Drugs.”
The line between L.A. and San Diego hummed through a brief silence, then the embarra.s.sed voice from the south admitted, ”No. But I'll get a pathologist out there right away.”
”That's how he'd do it,” Braddock was thoughtfully deciding. ”If it were Bolan, he'd know the dogs were there long before he started his move against the place. And he'd come prepared for them. You ... uh ... already know, I suppose, about the old connection between Bolan and Winters.”
Another embarra.s.sed silence, then: ”What connection?”
”We ran a total make on Bolan while he was in our town,” Braddock explained. ”I talked to Winters myself, part of the routine. He was Bolan's combat C.O. in Vietnam for awhile.”
The silence became oppressive. Finally the man in San Diego said, ”You never cleared that with me, Tim.”
”Sorry, there was no time for niceties. Winters wasn't suspected of any involvement with Bolan at the time. I was just looking for background on the guy. I set up the meet at the Del Mar country club. We had a drink; he told me what he knew about Bolan, supposedly; I thanked him and left. Had a h.e.l.l of a hot war storming through my own town at the time, you may remember.”
”Yeah,” came the sour reply. ”And now it's an odds-on favorite that I've got one coming up in my town.”
”Could be. But don't push the theory too far, John. The impression I got from Winters, I recall, was that he was holding out on me. The height-weight-serial number routine. He gave me very d.a.m.ned little. Later I discovered via other sources that he and Bolan had been very close friends, forget the difference in rank.”
The San Diego cop sighed heavily. He said, quietly, ”How about giving me the benefit of your mistakes. If you had it to do over again, how would you have handled your Bolan invasion?”
Braddock replied, ”Okay, I accept the dig. But I wouldn't change anything. Except maybe I'd move a bit faster than I did against the mob. I suggest you do that. Hit 'em with anything you can think of, but get them behind bars. And keep them there until the guy gets tired of waiting and drifts on out.”
”That's a cop-out.”
”Call it what you like. Just remember, Bolan doesn't stay long in one place. Part of his survival M.O. Hit quick and get out. Disappears for awhile, pops up again far away for another quick hit and git.”
”You know how long I can keep these boys behind bars, Tim? Just as long as it takes their d.a.m.ned lawyers to hit me with a briefcase full of legal papers.”
”Sure, I know that. So you turn them loose and grab them again as they're climbing into their cars. For spitting on the sidewalk, for making an obscene gesture, for sweating. And you keep it up until-”
”Yeah I know the routine,” Tatum declared wearily.
”I don't know what else to tell you, John.”
”You told me precisely what I did not not want you to tell me, Tim.” want you to tell me, Tim.”
Braddock said, ”Maybe the Winters girl is more confused than you think. I'll say this much: it doesn't sound like the usual Bolan thing. I mean, when the guy hits your town, you seldom have to wonder if he's really there.”
”So I hear,” Tatum commented sourly.
Another voice entered the telephone hookup, a voice which sounded as though it were accustomed to respectful listening. ”Captain Braddock. This is Chief Larson.”
Braddock said, ”Yes sir.”
”I'm sitting across the desk from John. Excuse me for not announcing my presence earlier but I thought it better that you approach the question without official intimidation. It's time for that now. You're considered the foremost authority in the West on the Bolan problem. I'm asking you now for an official opinion. Is the Executioner operating in this city?”
Braddock sighed. ”I'd have to say, yes sir, it sounds that way. He'll probably confirm it, very loudly, at most any time now.”
”All right. Ill be talking to your chief but I suppose I should clear it with you first. I'd like you down here with us, in an advisory capacity.”
It was getting to be a habit. Braddock had hardly unpacked from the trek to Boston.
He sighed and told the San Diego official, ”I'il have to beg off, Sir. My work here is stacked up around my ears. I think we could spring another man, though-and, actually, he's been much closer to Bolan than I have.”
”I don't want you unless you're willing, Captain. You won't reconsider?”
”I'm sorry, sir. The department wouldn't allow it even if I wanted to go. If you'll make the request via official channels, though, I'll see that you're provided the best man available.” ”All right. I'll rely on that, Captain.” Tatum chimed in with, ”Tim, thanks.” ”You bet,” Braddock replied, and broke the connection.
He immediately poked his intercom and told his secretary, ”Run down Sergeant Lyons for me- Carl Lyons. He should be in Organized Crime Division. Tell him to grab a toothbrush and be in my office within the hour. Then set me up for five minutes in the Chiefs office-make it urgent business conference-and request that Captain Mira of OCD be present.”
”Sounds like a bell-ringer,” the secretary commented.
”You better believe it. Oh-and when you're talking to Sergeant Lyons-tell him if s a Hard-case.” Hard-case.”
”I thought Hardcase Hardcase was dead.” was dead.”
”Not yet,” Braddock growled into the intercom. ”It's apparently alive and well ... in San Diego.”
Thank G.o.d.
Thank G.o.d it was not Braddock's problem this time.
7:
DANGER'S FOLLY.
They were supposed to have gotten underway at seven o'clock and here it was eight already. If they were going to cancel these G.o.dd.a.m.n things, why the h.e.l.l didn't somebody have enough thought about them to let a guy know it was off?
Gene (the Turtle) Tarantini paced the glistening deck of the flying bridge and ranted inwardly at the sorry way things had been going lately with this chicken outfit.