Part 15 (1/2)
She examined several frames, quickly, distastefully. ”Yes. That's it.”
”Burn it.” He gave her a butane lighter.
”Right here?”
He nodded. ”Right here.”
She stripped the cannister, unreeling the film into a loose pile on the cement drive.
As she worked at it, Bolan shoved his prisoner to the side of the car and told the girl, ”When you get home, tell your husband all about it. Tell him the hold is gone, except what he built himself and wants to keep for himself. But tell him this. If he stays held, I'll have to come back. And I'll have to break all the holds, my own way. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
She murmured, ”Yes, I understand.”
”Tell him also that I've located the missing radio gear.” He glanced at Tony Danger, then placed a cigarette in his mouth and leaned toward the girl to light it. ”I'm going to hit it tonight. I'm giving him that much break. He will understand, just tell him that.”
Marsha Thornton, not at all deadpanning anything now, a.s.sured the Executioner, ”I'll tell him. Thanks.”
He said, ”Stand back. You'll never get it lit that way.”
He pulled her aside, thumbed off a firestick, and tossed it into the pile of film.
It went up in a puff of brilliant incandescence, writhing and shriveling into the nothingness from which it had come, and he told the girl with the glowing eyes, ”Now take off. And don't look back. Don't ever look back on this.”
She brushed his cheek with moist lips and ran toward her own vehicle.
Bolan told Tony Danger, ”You're some rotten b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you know that?” Then he crammed the guy into the Ferrari and they returned to town in silence.
Bolan pulled up in front of the police station.
The returning prisoner, baffled but uncomplaining, told the big cold guy beside him, ”Listen, Bolan, I-”
”Get out of my car, guy,” the frosty voice commanded.
Tony Danger got out and the Ferrari shot forward into the night.
A moment later Bolan pressed the call b.u.t.ton on his shoulder-phone, summoning the Politician to a conference.
He told him, ”Find Gadgets and get on him right away. I fed Tony the bait and dropped him off. It's All Systems Red All Systems Red now, so let's get into close order.” now, so let's get into close order.”
”I've got something hot from Lisa Winters,” Blanca.n.a.les reported.
”Save it 'til we regroup. I've got to spring this trap.”
”He really went for it, huh?”
”He went for it, all right. With straining ears and licking lips.”
”Just don't let him get clean away, Sarge. He's the one that burned Howlin' Harlan.”
The Executioner's voice was tensely frosted as it snapped back, ”Are you sure of that?”
”As sure as you were that Howlie didn't burn himself,” Blanca.n.a.les replied.
”Okay. Get on trap station. Get Gadgets in with all speed. This one is liable to be just one beat off the numbers.”
d.a.m.n right.
”This one” would indeed be crowding every number at Bolan's disposal. Plus a few that he hadn't even found yet.
18:
RAWHIDE.
John Tatum and Carl Lyons were waiting in a darkened vehicle in a stakeout position outside the police building when Bolan dropped his pa.s.senger.
Tatum straightened quickly and declared, ”There she blows. The Ferrari.”
Lyons' attention was riveted to the dishevelled man who had lurched onto the sidewalk. ”That's Tony Danger, eh?”
”The one and only.” The Captain chuckled. ”Looks like he's been through a grinder.”
The Ferrari was already gone, taillights faintly twinkling in the distance. ”That Bolan's a cool b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Lyons commented.
”Well probably never know just how cool,” Tatum said, sighing.
”Look at that. The guy's actually going inside.”
”Oh he's strictly legit,” the homicide chief said drily. ”Wait'll he finds out he was released over an hour ago.”
”Just hope he reacts properly.”
”He will. I'd have to mark Bolan A-plus on that score, he knows his enemy.”
”I'd still quote it at a hundred-to-one,” the L.A. cop sniffed.
”No, not that wide. Tony will call his boss as soon as he realizes it's a new game. And then I think it'll go pretty much as Bolan laid it out.”
”Hope you realize you're betting a twenty-six-year career on that,” Lyons said. ”I mean ... Bolan's some other kind of guy, yeah. But dammit John, he's no superman.”
Tatum chuckled. ”We seem to have reversed positions,” he said. ”Relax, Sergeant. You don't have to take the role of devil's advocate. I'm not going off half-c.o.c.ked.”
Lyons laughed self-consciously. ”Sorry.”
”It's okay. I might have been a Mack Bolan myself, once. Guys like him don't come gift-wrapped from heaven or h.e.l.l. They're just guys ... like you, like me. Destiny shapes 'em. Not personal destiny, none of that s.h.i.+t. Human Human destiny. Or, if you'd rather, call it a chance combination of environment and circ.u.mstances, coupled with an individual's unique abilities. Bingo, a Mack Bolan appears. I saw a few guys like him ... in the h.e.l.lgrounds of Europe, Second World War. Tell the truth, Lyons, I destiny. Or, if you'd rather, call it a chance combination of environment and circ.u.mstances, coupled with an individual's unique abilities. Bingo, a Mack Bolan appears. I saw a few guys like him ... in the h.e.l.lgrounds of Europe, Second World War. Tell the truth, Lyons, I am am glad the guy came to town. Made me remember.” glad the guy came to town. Made me remember.”