Part 14 (1/2)
Bolan grinned. ”I'd consider that a bonus. But yeah. Yeah, I'd like to get back out, Jack.”
”That's my specialty. But tell me, Bolan. Why?”
”Why what?”
”Why this Mil? Why any of them? What the h.e.l.l are you winning? I mean, realistically now. You know the score. You pop one, he falls over, another steps up, you pop him, up comes the next guy. They're too big for you, fella. You're fighting a machine that fixes its own hurts. So why?”
”Crime pays,” Bolan replied quietly. ”It pays d.a.m.n big.”
”So what else is new? Was that supposed to answer my question?”
”Yeah. I'm not fighting a machine. I'm fighting people. People who intend to profit from crime. I'm showing some of them that there is no profit Okay?”
Grimaldi said, ”Okay. Maybe you're right. If you can stay alive and keep it going, then maybe so. Maybe you'll make it too d.a.m.n hazardous for the next guy to step to the head of the line. But I doubt that you'll live that long, Bolan.”
”I'm going to try.”
”By trying a hit on the h.e.l.l hole of the Caribbean? Sou keep trying that hard, buddy, and... aw, what the h.e.l.l. Let's go do it.”
”You got everything straight in your mind?”
Grimaldi glanced at his watch. ”We have plenty of time, let's run through that floor plan once more, just in case I forgot something.”
Bolan shuffled the map to one side and laid out the diagram of the cliff side, mansion near Port au Prince, as reproduced from Jack Grimaldi's memory of a brief visit three months earlier.
”Okay,” he said. ”North wall here, gate to the west, guard shack over here. Bedrooms-”
”h.e.l.l I'm glad I looked again,” Grimaldi interrupted. ”There's a courtyard between the east and west wings.”
”Right here?”
”Yeah. Flower gardens and stuff. Uh, I think- yeah, French doors into the house, ground level. Security station down here at the corner.”
”Hardmen?”
”Hard black black men. Civilian clothes.” men. Civilian clothes.”
”Weapons?”
”Sidearms, concealed.”
”How many at that station?”
”Two, I believe. Yeah, two.”
”Okay, let's take the whole thing again, detail by detail. First floor, reception hall-a man and a dog. Right?”
”Right.”
”Winding stairway up to the left, library to the right, ballroom straight ahead.”
”Yeh, but they don't ball there.”
”Kitchen, dining room, butler's pantry, security cell. Right?”
”Right. The cell is manned day and night. Electronically locked.”
”Any idea about the duty s.h.i.+fts in that cell?”
”I think three. I saw them changing at midnight.”
”Okay. Now. The guy in the cell. He monitors all three floors.”
”Right. The television cameras are all over the place. They might even have hidden ones in the bedrooms. I wouldn't put it past them.”
”Anything else about that first floor? Anything at all?”
Grimaldi pondered for a moment, then replied, That's all I can draw.”
”Okay, upstairs. Sir Edward's suite.”
”I never got in there.”
”Think of it from the outside.”
”Well... yeah, I told you... uh, come to think of it, he must take the whole d.a.m.n corner there. Let's see, the doors are...”
”Think about it.”
”I'm thinking. The guard in the hall and one in the inner security room. Let's see... oh, all the inside guards are hard Mafia, I mean wops like me. Uh, I'll bet he has about three large rooms in that suite. I mean, not counting the security jazz.”
”Women?”
”I never saw one on the whole place.”
”Okay. Over to the west wing, now. Offices, conference rooms, a vault.”
”Yeah.”
”Second floor. Is this all the windows there are on the second floor west?”
”h.e.l.l I didn't build the d.a.m.n place, I just spent an evening there.”
... ”If you think hard enough, Jack, you could tell me all about your mother's womb. Are you saying there are just two d.a.m.n windows on that whole floor?”
”Well now wait, no-I've got the stairs in the wrong place. Look. Gimme the d.a.m.n pencil. Here's the way....”