Part 4 (2/2)
”Don't remind me,” Marinello replied coldly. ”I don't have to tell you how disappointed I am, Tony.”
”Yessir. Well, uh, we can't write this one off yet. And with me and Gus working towards each other, surely we'll... uh, Gus knows how I work so I guess he won't be getting in my way.”
Marinello chuckled and said, ”Well come to think of it, Tony, I guess this does develop into a horse race, doesn't it. Winner take all, eh?”
Lavagni understood perfectly. He replied, ”Right, sir, I get you.”
”Just get Mr. Blacksuit, Tony.”
”You make book on that, sir.”
The connection went dead and Lavagni slowly hung up. He turned to Charlie Dragone with a tired sigh and told him, ”I don't blame them; they're terrible disappointed.”
”What'd they say about Triesta?” Dragone wondered aloud.
”I didn't hear any tears splas.h.i.+ng off the table.” Lavagni sighed again. ”They're sending down a replacement. They better replace the whole joint. I wonder how we managed to keep the telephone line.”
”Did I hear you say something about Gus? Big Gus Riappi?”
”Yeh,” Lavagni growled. They're giving him a piece of the action.” He got to his feet and walked out of the office, s.h.i.+elding his eyes against the bright sunlight and gazing into the skies.
Dragone followed him outside. ”Just a piece?” he asked.
”Yeh. They've put us in a horse race. Winner take all.”
”What's that mean, Tony?”
”It means that whichever one of us gets Bolan also gets to sit at Arnie Farmer's vacant desk, that's what it means.”
”G.o.d, you mean...?”
”Yeli.” Lavagni lit a cigar and watched the smoke drift skyward. ”I think I hear those whirly birds. It's about d.a.m.n time.”
Dragone was looking at the potential Capo Capo with new eyes. ”You mean you'll be going clear to the top?” with new eyes. ”You mean you'll be going clear to the top?”
”With Bolan's head in my sack, yeah.” Lavagni took a hard pull at the cigar and sent his companion a sidewise glance as he exhaled the smoke. ”How'd you like to change families, Charlie?”
The veteran triggerman took his time in replying. I'd have to think about it,” he said slowly. ”I kinda like it where I'm at. But I... well, I guess if there was something in it...”
”Would you think there was something in standing at the right hand of a Capo Capo, Charlie?”
”Listen Tony... you know better than to ask. I mean, if you mean...”
”That's exactly what I mean, Charlie. Listen. We got to put a sack on Bolan's head.”
The exultant glow in the triggerman's eyes was already hardening to a calculated determination. ”Where do we start?” he asked.
”Get on the radio and see if Latigo has anything yet. Then pa.s.s the word, there's a ten thou' bonus for the boy that comes up with Bolan's tracks, twen-ty-five-thou' for the one that brings in his head.”
”That'll put some lead in their peters,” Dragone agreed.
”I hope they get a hard that never goes down.”
Lavagni said. ”I want them to want want this boy, Charlie. The same way that you and I want him.” this boy, Charlie. The same way that you and I want him.”
”Offer the contract purse, boss.”
”Huhr ”Give 'em something to really really scramble for.” scramble for.”
Quick Tony was weighing the idea. By the time the various territorial bonuses were tacked on, that contract was worth somewhere around a cool quarter-mil'. It was a h.e.l.l of a lot of money. On a head-party expedition such as this, the pay-off ordinarily went to the contractor in charge, with the split going however he wished to make it.
”Well,” he said musingly, ”the man said winner takes all. That purse is peanuts compared to... Okay. The boy that comes in with Bolan's head gets the purse, all of it, the whole thing. You pa.s.s that around, Charlie.”
”You just bought yourself a crew of man-eating tigers,” Dragone replied, grinning. He hurried away to spread the news, and Quick Tony resumed his scan of the skies.
He hoped that he was buying Bolan's head. At a quarter-mil, that would be the sharpest deal a guy could ever hope for. Yeh. It would be a horse race well worth the price of winning. Big Gus, of course, could be thinking the same way.
Lavagni fidgeted and watched the helicopters swoop in over Gla.s.s Bay. Yeh. It was going to be one h.e.l.l of a horse race.
Steady monitoring of the enemy's radio signals had produced the temporarily comforting conclusion that the hounds of h.e.l.l were off the track and ranging far east of the retreat route. And, for Bolan, the end of a network of dusty trails was an isolated shack, several miles inland and well buried in the agricultural maze of the coastal plateau.
He pulled the jeep into a wooded area near the house and covered it with brush while the woman went on to clear the way for him with her friends. Before Bolan had completed the camouflage job, a slightly built youth of perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two emerged from the cabin and stood quietly watching him.
Bolan threw him a friendly wave and went on with his task. A moment later the Puerto Rican was standing beside him, a cautious smile on his face. ”I will help, senor senor,” he offered.
Bolan returned the smile and said, ”Sure.” He slung a Thompson across his chest and pa.s.sed the other two to the youth. ”You can take these inside.”
The boy whistled softly under his breath and accepted the weapons.
”Call me Mack,” Bolan told him.
The smile returned, stronger. ”I am Juan Esca-drillo.”
”This your place, Juan?”
”Si, this place is mine.”
”I won't be staying long,” Bolan said. ”Who else is here?”
”Rosalita, my wife.”
”No kids?”
”Now, no. Soon, yes.” He grinned. ”One is in the belly.”
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