Part 1 (2/2)

Uncle Sergio had died during that initial skirmish and his family had fallen into almost total disarray. Leo the p.u.s.s.y had proved a strong rallying point for the reconst.i.tution of that vital Mafia arm and he had risen considerably in stature in the new organization.

Like Bolan, Turrin was a Vietnam veteran. Prior to his army service, he had resisted the tantalizing pull of Uncle Sergio and his a.s.surances of easy money and practically unlimited power.

Though he had grown up in its shadow, Leo had forever despised the Mafia and all that it stood for. With Vietnam behind him, however-and a resultant new maturity --Turrin ”came in” with the Frenchi family, but he brought the entire federal government in with him.

That ”penetration” had developed into the most successful undercover police operation ever attempted against the mob. With his favored position as blood relative to the aging Capo, Capo, Turrin's rise to importance in the Pittsfield arm was almost automatic. He had balanced upon the edge of that knife for more than five years, had become a Turrin's rise to importance in the Pittsfield arm was almost automatic. He had balanced upon the edge of that knife for more than five years, had become a Caporegime Caporegime under Frenchi, and was beginning to attain national stature when Bolan the Bold came along. under Frenchi, and was beginning to attain national stature when Bolan the Bold came along.

The blitz artist had hit Uncle Sergio's little kingdom with thunder and lightning, d.a.m.n near dislodging Turrin himself in the process. Only the last-minute revelation of Turrin's true role had saved him from Bolan's vengeance. From the rubble, though, the undercover cop had built for him- self an even stronger position and considerable prestige in the national reaches of the syndicate.

He had also salvaged from those ruins the beginning of a great, if terribly hazardous, friends.h.i.+p with Mack Bolan.

Turrin personally considered himself as neither fish nor fowl. His active friends.h.i.+p with Bolan presented no conflict of duties in his own mind. He was a cop . . . but not really. He was a Mafioso . . . Mafioso . . . but not really. The only but not really. The only real real thing he had found during five years of carefully manufactured deceit was the continuing relations.h.i.+p with the man whom both the law and the mob considered public enemy number one. To Turrin's mind, Mack Bolan was the greatest human being alive. He wasn't perfect, no-not even infallible-but still the by G.o.d thing he had found during five years of carefully manufactured deceit was the continuing relations.h.i.+p with the man whom both the law and the mob considered public enemy number one. To Turrin's mind, Mack Bolan was the greatest human being alive. He wasn't perfect, no-not even infallible-but still the by G.o.d greatest greatest human being Turrin had ever encountered. human being Turrin had ever encountered.

A man like Bolan did not happen to the world every day, nor even in every age or epoch. The Bolans of the world came few and far between. You could count them on humanity's ten fingers, all the ones who had ever been.

And Leo Turrin worried a lot about Mack Bolan.

Perhaps no one, not Bolan himself, understood better than Leo Turrin the staggering array of forces pitted against, the guy's survival. Turrin was in a position to view both sides of the guy's personal gauntlet, the cops as well as the mob . . . and yeah, he had good reason for worry. He'd done a lot of pacing the past few days, waiting, wondering when the claws of the pincers would close around the world's best answer to La Cosa Nostra. La Cosa Nostra.

And so it was on that brooding Spring afternoon when the call finally came.

Turrin's personal shadow, a goon called Hot Stuff Ribiello, scooped up the phone and muttered into it. ”Yeah. I dunno, just a minute.” He caught Turrin's expressionless eye and announced, ”Long distance, collect. For you, boss. Guy named La- Mancha. You wanta accept?”

The underboss of Pittsfield coolly replied, ”I don't know no La Mancha.”

”He don't know no La Mancha,” Ribiello relayed to the operator. Tell the guy to get lost,”

”Tell him to spend his own d.a.m.n nickel,” Turrin instructed boredly.

”He should spend his own nickels,” the goon dutifully relayed He laughed and hung up. Some of these boys really got their nerve. I never made a collect call in my whole life even.”

”Good for you,” Turrin growled He rubbed the back of his neck, then moved the hand around to ma.s.sage the throat ”h.e.l.l,” he told the bodyguard, ”I got to get some air. I'm going out to smell some suns.h.i.+ne.”

Turrin started for the door. Rublello trudged along behind.

”Not you,” Turrin growled. ”Stay put. I'm expecting Jake to call. Get the number where he's at and I'll call 'im back.”

”Don't stand on no street corners,” the bodyguard suggested, as he gladly returned to the comfort of his chair.

Turrin grunted and ambled into the hallway, He lit a cigarette and displayed outward patience as he waited for the elevator. In the lobby he chatted for a moment with the girl at the newsstand, then drifted out the back way and across the parking lot, pausing now and then to sniff the air and flex his shoulders at the sun.

Precisely five minutes after rejection of the collect call from La Mancha, Turrin stepped into a public phone booth a block and a half from his office building, just in time to answer the first ring.

”Yeah, dammit, what's been keeping you?” he asked without preamble.

A cool chuckle drifted through the instrument and a pleasantly modulated voice informed him, ”Just got your broadcast twenty minutes ago. What's the flap?”

”The flap, buddy, is your b.l.o.o.d.y a.s.s,” Turrin growled. ”Everybody wants it, and in that condition. I was hoping you'd call before-”

”Too late,” reported the real live Man from La Mancha, Mack Bolan.

”Yeah, I know, I heard it,” Turrin said gloomily. ”Of all places, Sarge, why Philly? Philly? Why not Kansas City or Hot Springs, why not Dallas or Phoenixor-h.e.l.l, even St. Louis or Detroit? Philly is where the big guns are mobbing up, Philly's the place-” Why not Kansas City or Hot Springs, why not Dallas or Phoenixor-h.e.l.l, even St. Louis or Detroit? Philly is where the big guns are mobbing up, Philly's the place-”

”You know why I'm here, Leo.”

”Yeah, yeah. I guess it figures.”

”Did you have something specific in mind, Mother, or did you just want to say good-bye?”

”Specific, yeah,” Turrin growled. ”I'd say that. Message from your buddy in Was.h.i.+ngton. He suggests quote take a vacation unquote.”

”Brognola, eh?”

”Yeh. He's walking a tightrope, you know. Officially he's running the entire national Get Bolan Get Bolan show. Unofficially his guts turn over every time he thinks about it. But you know Hal. The job is the job.” show. Unofficially his guts turn over every time he thinks about it. But you know Hal. The job is the job.”

”Wouldn't have it any other way,” Bolan murmured. He sighed. Turrin heard the click of a cigarette lighter and a slow, hissing exhalation. ”Sounds like I'm back in season.”

”Worse yet. The heat is on-very. Some congressional subcommittee is stoking the boiler. Hal thinks it'd be a good time for you to catch some RR. He says Argentina is beautiful this time of year.”

The chuckle from the other end of the connection was downright icy. 'Lousy hunting down there, Leo.”

”Yeah.” The number two man of Pittsfieldshook away a spinal s.h.i.+ver. ”Well, listening”

A moment later, Bolan replied, ”I'm ”I wouldn't try Philly right now. Don Stefano has been expecting you. The word I hear, he's imported a private army just to wait for your head to show. I think-”

”Imported from where?”

”The old country. Sicily. Very mean-” ”Gradigghia,” ”Gradigghia,” Bolan muttered. Bolan muttered.

”That's the word. And I'll give you another, buddy. Malacarni. Malacarni. It means a very bold dude, capable of anything. These old-country It means a very bold dude, capable of anything. These old-country Gradigghia, Gradigghia, the Sicilian Mafia gangs, are composed entirely of people like that. They are very mean boys.” the Sicilian Mafia gangs, are composed entirely of people like that. They are very mean boys.”

<script>