Part 8 (2/2)
”So it's been in this neighborhood for the past two hours.”
”Is the guy making deliveries?”
”Seems to be. But, h.e.l.l, how long can a guy spend in one neighborhood?”
”Depends,” Lucasi replied, with a stab at humor, ”on how many stud-hungry housewives he's servicing, I guess. Is that what you brought me out here for?”
”That's not all.” The Diver swiveled about to sight along his outstretched arm in the opposite direction. ”See that up there?”
”I see a little green truck,” the boss replied, with some irritation. ”So what?”
”So I seen the same d.a.m.n truck over on the next street earlier this morning. Right after we got hit.”
Lucasi was attempting to appear unruffled. He drawled, ”All right, I never accused you of bad instincts, Diver. What d'you think is so funny about this?”
”I think maybe we're being watched.”
”Oh?” Lucasi thrust a cigar between his teeth and chewed on it for a few seconds, then said, ”There was sure something funny about that hit here this morning. You thinking that, too?”
The Diver soberly nodded his head. ”It just isn't like Bolan.”
”He hit the Pepe Pepe awhile ago,” Lucasi confided, awhile ago,” Lucasi confided, sotto voce. sotto voce. ”b.u.mped Beloit and dumped our s.h.i.+pment in the ocean.” ”b.u.mped Beloit and dumped our s.h.i.+pment in the ocean.”
”Sounds like he's getting smarts somewheres,” Diver muttered. His eyes were roaming the exterior of the house. ”He could've b.u.mped you, you, Mr. Lucasi, as easy as anything. I keep wondering why he didn't.” Mr. Lucasi, as easy as anything. I keep wondering why he didn't.”
”I guess maybe he just wasn't ready to,” Lucasi replied in a strained voice. The tension was wearing through again. He loudly cleared his throat and added, ”I guess he had something else on his mind.” Lucasi was following the scan of his house captain's gaze. The hairs rose along the back of his neck. ”Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” he growled.
”Well, we know he's not working alone this time,” Diver quietly replied. His arm rose and he pointed toward a second-floor window. ”Do you see something up there? On that ledge there, by the window?”
Lucasi's blood almost stopped flowing. ”Shake this f.u.c.kin' place down,” he commanded, almost choking with the effort at speech. ”I mean good good and and fast!” fast!”
The house captain took off on a run, loudly calling his boys together as he went.
Lucasi hurried after him, tremblingly intent upon clearing that open area with all speed.
”Suckered!” he muttered to himself. ”Sonuva-b.i.t.c.h!”
For d.a.m.n sure. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had suckered him with the oldest trick in the books.
But maybe it wasn't too late to pull the fat out of the fire. Maybe, by G.o.d, Mr. Smart-a.s.s would find his own fat searing in the flames this time.
”Those trucks!” he screamed. ”Get out there and grab them trucks!”
10:
POINT BLANK.
Bolan was watching from a high point of ground which was several blocks removed from the Lucasi home, following the play there with powerful binoculars.
He had been on station and waiting when Schwarz began his intelligence run in the war-wagon, had watched him pull up to within fifty yards of the target and dismount, open the hood over the engine, step inside the van.
He saw Blanca.n.a.les, also, another hundred yards or so downrange, inching along in the bread truck.
Bolan spoke into his shoulder-phone to advise, ”Pol, the ears are out.”
”Roger, I have him in sight,” came the instant reply. ”How's it look from station Charlie?”
”Peaceful,” Bolan said, then: ”Whup! Couple just came out the side door. It's ... Lucasi. And the big houseman. Something has their interest.”
The focal field of the binoculars covered only the two men and several feet of turf to either side of them.
”I believe they're looking at you, you, Pol. And ... Gadgets! Are you in?” Pol. And ... Gadgets! Are you in?”
”I'm here,” came a strained reply.
”They've spotted both of you, and I'd say are jumping to conclusions. I can feel their little minds a'whirring. Yep. Yep.”
Lucasi's weasel face was sharply etched in the focal field, wondering, worrying, discovering ... discovering ...
Bolan commanded, ”Break off! They're wise. Break now!” now!”
Schwarz protested, ”I only drained two banks.”
”Got the phone tap?”
”Getting it now.”
”Stay with it,” Blanca.n.a.les urged. ”I'm covering.”
Bolan concurred, though with misgivings. Numbers were all-important in this sort of game. He snapped, ”Thirty seconds more, then you haul it I Pol, start your move!”
”Rolling,” came the response from Blanca.n.a.les.
Bolan released the binoculars and reached for his power sniper, the Weatherby Mark V. Using .460 Magnum soft-nose mini-bombs, the big piece gave him better than a thousand yards of kill- much more than he would need for this mission. He fitted his eye to the scope and began reading ranges.
Yeah ... this mission would be just about point-blank.
The Diver sent three of his boys out to intercept the bread truck and another two to check-out the green van, then he sent the remaining palace guard scurrying through the house searching for bugs.
Ben Lucasi ran into the game room to caution everyone there to ”keep quiet, stop talking, not a f.u.c.king word!”-then he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a double-barrel shotgun and dashed toward the upstairs window where he'd spotted the suspicious-looking package.
He arrived there just in time to see the bread truck picking up speed for a run past the house.
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