Caribbean Kill Part 4

The woman was becoming more of a puzzle. He bluntly asked her, "Okay, who are you and where do you fit?"

She countered with, "I would ask of you the same."

"Save it for later," he growled. "We're a long way from clear."

"And you are a long way from home, Mack Bolan," she replied.

"Right on," he muttered, not bothering to deny nor confirm the identification.

"You cannot remain on this road. There will be police roadblocks at Puerta Vista, the next village."

"How do you know that?" he asked, feeling already the answer in his gut.

She sighed. "Trust me. I owe you my life. I would not betray you. Go north at the next crossroads. I know a place of safety."

Bolan realized that there was little alternative but to play the game her way. He felt that wriggling finger of destiny tickling at his lifestrings once again, and he had learned to yield to its directions.

"Okay," he said tightly. "I guess I'm in your hands."

"And I am in yours."

"Let's set the game," Bolan said quietly. I'm a wanted man. You're a cop. Now where do the two of us go from there?"

T am also a woman," she reminded him in a small voice.

Bolan didn't need the reminder. From the top of that perfect head to those bare little feet, she was every inch a woman.

He showed her a reluctant smile and told her, "That was the first idea I got."

Her eyes flashed warmly to his and she said, "At the moment, I am just just a woman." a woman."

Bolan could have told her that there was no such animal as just a woman. The female was the more complex and enigmatic in any species, and she wore many jungle hats. This one also wore a badge.

A small warm hand crept into his. He gently squeezed it and felt a responsive pressure.

"Okay," he said gruffly.

"Okay," she echoed, mimicking his gruff tone.

Then she laughed, a bit self-consciously, and Bolan laughed with her.

Into every jungle must creep an occasional ray of suns.h.i.+ne.

And they were approaching the crossroads. A crossroads in no-man's-land, somewhere on the border of h.e.l.l and paradise.

Which way, Bolan wondered, led the road ahead?

Chapter Five.

THE PURSE.

Tony Lavagni's report to the war council of bosses was an embara.s.sing ordeal. His eyes were slightly glazed as he stared beyond the mouthpiece of the telephone and on to the scene just beyond the window of the office, as another sheet-draped corpse was being added to the lineup.

"The thing was sour from the start," Lavagni told his distant audience. "The guy had us set up right from the beginning, n.o.body can tell me different And I mean all the way from Vegas. I believe he was counting on being brought here to Gla.s.s Bay all the time."

There was a long silence on the line, then a voice which Lavagni recognized as that of New York boss Augie Marinello came in with, "I guess you could be right, Tony. We now discover that the men from Was.h.i.+ngton have a certain black book that's giving them a lot of thrills. It turns out to be Heart of Gold Vito's last will and testament, mostly testament. We know also that Vito was closely involved with Mr. Blacksuit just before his-uh, untimely death. It figures that Vito's book was in our friend's hands before it went on to Was.h.i.+ngton."

"That's terrible," Quick Tony groaned.

"It's worse than that," another voice commented.

This one sounded like that little p.r.i.c.k from the Bronx, the guy that took over Freddie Gambella's death-ridden organization. "Vito was too careful a bookkeeper. He had it down to dollars and dimes, destinations, names, the whole-"

Marinello's cautious tones cut in with, "Let's remember our problems with telephones, eh. The thing is, Tony, you're probably right. The guy is maybe on another bust. You know what that means."

"Yeah. Well I-*

"Of course we had thought of that possibility when we asked you to meet him there. And if you can't meet the guy at Gla.s.s Bay then tell me, Tony, where can can you meet him?" you meet him?"

"It's not all that tight here," Lavagni explained in a m.u.f.fled voice. "I had nearly a hundred boys on the reception committee. We had everything covered, and I mean all of it. It's just... dammit, there's never nothing sure about this guy. It's almost like he's supernatural. You almost get the feeling sometimes that the guy reads minds or something."

"So what are you doing now to recover the situation?" Marinello asked.

"I got every car we had on the place out looking for him. I also got a couple of whirly birds that should be getting here in a few minutes. And I got in touch with our San Juan connections. They're sending committees out to cover all the roads coming in there from this part of the island. We got four big boats here. I sent them out. They'll check into everything that's floating, with the exception of the U.S. Navy. Soon as the whirlies get here, I'll send them on searching patterns from the air. Beyond all that, sir, I quite sincerely don't know exactly what else I can do."

"You can take some lessons in mind reading," said the little p.r.i.c.k from the Bronx.

"What do you need from this end, Tony?" Mar-inello asked hastily, as though trying to soften the sarcastic comment from the youngest Capo Capo.

Lavagno rode that wave of sympathy. He humbled himself to reply, "Whatever you think I could use, sir."

It didn't work. "Okay," the big boss told him. I'm glad to see you're thinking straight, Tony. Pride goes before the fall, eh? So you won't think it's a slap in your face if we sent Gus Riappi down to lend a hand."

Quick Tony choked back his displeasure at the suggestion as he replied, "Course not, sir. All I want is to stop this guy. I don't care about nothing else right now. I've worked for Gus before, I can-"

"You won't be working for for him, Tony. We're just splitting the territory. You keep on working that end. Follow wherever the trail leads." him, Tony. We're just splitting the territory. You keep on working that end. Follow wherever the trail leads."

"Right, I'll follow it to h.e.l.l if I have to."

"That's the idea. Meanwhile Gus will be working some other angles."

Lavagni cleared a lump from his throat and said, "The-uh-the Vito book thing?"

"Right. We've cooled everything, naturally, and we'll be setting up a new chain. But we're also going to dummy the old one along. Just for our friend's benefit. We figure maybe he'll come right to us."

"He came right to us at Gla.s.s Bay," Lavagni commented darkly.

"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."