The old salvage rig which had been hired for Bolan's escape was tied up right next door, to the west of the cruiser, and these were the only two boats in the public dock.
A warehouse of corrugated sheet metal stood between this end of the wharf and the town. Bolan would have to walk along the entire western side of the wharf in order to reach his boat. He would also have to pass behind the cruiser. The only other way was through or over the warehouse, and Quick Tony had made provisions for that route also. As for swimming in — forget it. Quick Tony Lavagni was not born yesterday.
So he was ready, the taste of victory strong on his palate. Even if somehow Bolan should manage to get past them and onto his boat, he'd never make it out of the harbor. This "Med moor" bit was tailor-made for a fast getaway. The guy had told him that the U.S. Navy used the method for its Sixth Fleet operations in the Mediterranean, so they could haul out of port on a moment's notice, without all the dicking around with tugs and crap trying to get underway.
Bolan might like the setup too, naturally. As long as he didn't think there was any chance of a hot pursuit out of that place. The cruiser could run rings around that falling-apart salvage boat, so just let the hotshot bastard try some of his razzle-dazzle around here. He'd find out damn quick how far he could get with it.
Tony had six guns on the cruiser itself, and two of those were heavy automatics. He had two boys up on top of the warehouse with shotguns, and two more inside. He had boys spotted all along that wharf, mixing it up with the local yokels and ready to fall in behind Bolan and plug any escape out the back door. And he had a boy stationed on the salvage rig, just for the locker. Bolan, Quick Tony was absolutely certain, would never set a foot on that boat
It was a lot different here than at Monte Carlo. If it hadn't been for police interference, Lavagni would have nailed Bolan at Monte Carlo and ended all the anguish once and for all.
But there would be no such interference here. The village had one hick constable or something, sheriff maybe, a real comedian with a uniform like a Manhattan hotel doorman and about the same police ability.
Also, Tony had this time been given plenty of time to set the thing up properly. He had Bolan right where he wanted him, by the balls that's where, and Quick Tony could hardly wait to start squeezing.
Nothing could go wrong, nothing. Even if the kid suddenly lost his mind and tipped the thing to Bolan — even that wouldn't change anything.
Bolan fancied himself as a Sir Galahad or something when it came to the dames. He had even put his head on the block for a bunch of damn French whores — if the guy had a weak point, that was it. He couldn't walk away from a dame in trouble.
The pregnant kid broad meant nothing at all to Tony Lavagni. He didn't let himself get involved with people that way. She wasn't a peopleat all, she was just a tool, and he'd use her any damn way he could. He's shove a hook up her ass and dangle her from the yardarm if he thought that would bring Bolan around.
Bolan knew that, too.
And Bolan was a sucker for people.
The guy had a real people problem.
And he was going to lose his goddamn head over that problem. His first mistake was in sending that dumb hick lad in to do a man's job. Lavagni couldn't understand Bolan pulling a stunt like that, unless the guy was really getting desperate. Or unless…
Quick Tony began to fidget. Maybe the bastard was just setting him up. Maybe he never intended to actually use that boat. Maybe he'd sent the kid in as a diversion, nothing more. Maybe he was suckering Tony into concentrating everything at Puerta Vista while he slipped out some other way.
Lavagni tried to dismiss the idea. Hell, he had to play the hand that was there, didn't he? Bolan was no god, he was no superman. Everybody made dumb mistakes now and then, even cagey shits like Mack Bolan. Still, Quick Tony couldn't help wondering about…
He looked around and caught the eye of Joe Fini, crew chief on the cruiser. "Any word yet from Charlie?" he asked him.
Fini shook his head and replied in a near-whisper. "We been trying to raise him ever since we got docked. Maybe something's gone wrong with the radio. You want me to go down and try the car radio?"
Lavagni emphatically shook his head no. "Not now, hell. What about Latigo?"
"We ain't heard nothing from him for two hours, since he went west."
"I told Charlie to send all those boys to Puerta Vista."
"Well they was covering a lot of territory," Fini whispered. "I guess it takes awhile to get 'em all back together. This radio stuff ain't all it's cracked up to be."
"What the hell are you whispering about?"
Fini laughed self-consciously. "I guess it's just the mood around here. I feel like tiptoeing when I walk."
Lavagni growled, "Well tiptoe in there and see how our little madonna is making out. I don't want her losing her mind yet, I might need it"
"For what, Tony?"
"Never mind for what. Just cheer her up, make her feel like it's all gonna turn out okay. It ain't, of course, but you've been lying to broads all your life so go tell some more lies."
"Hell, I don't parleyvoo her lingo," Fini replied.
"Then use sign language. But watch where you put your hands. I don't want her going into shock right now."
Fini grinned wickedly and said, "Party pooper."
Lavagni shook his head disgustedly. "You call that a party? A pregnant cow?"
"They make the best lay," Fini told his boss. "They got everything to gain and nothin' to lose." He laughed and moved softly toward the cabin.
Lavagni watched him disappear inside, then he returned his attention to the wharf.
Hurry up Dammit, hurry up.
Lavagni lit a cigar and brooded over the situation for several minutes. Fini came back on deck and whispered, "She's okay. A little bit uptight, but okay. I think she figures Prince Charming will come riding up any time now."
"I wish he would," Quick Tony complained.
Fini chuckled and moved back to his station.
Lavagni craned his head about, spotting the other boys. Everybody was ready. Every thingwas ready. Why didn't the bastard come on and get it over with? That kid told him eight o'clock, and here it was nearly eight thirty already.
It was almost as bad as the wait at Glass Bay. Lavagni shivered, remembering the awful scene they'd had there.
Well it wasn't going to happen here. It wasn't going to...
He stiffened and took a closer look along the wharf. Something was going on down there. The Manhattan doorman was moving around and people were taking off.
A chill trickled along Lavagni's spine. He turned around to whisper to Fini, "Get set, something's coming off."
Shops were closing, hastily, and the marketplace was being cleared. This was supposed to be the late-closing night. That guy had told Lavagni that those shops wouldn't close until nine o'clock. So what the hell was?..
The rube cop was walking along the line of fishing boats now, yelling something in Spanish. Guys were jumping off onto the wharf and beating it.
Fini hoarsely called over, "What the hell is it, Tony?"
"I dunno," Lavagni shot back. "But if that big rube comes this far, you know what to do with 'im."
The cop spun around, though, and went back toward the middle. Evidently his only interest had been in clearing the commercial area. While Lavagni was pondering this, the cargo lights came on all along the wharf, brightly illuminating the entire strip.
A growl began deep in Lavagni's throat and he told Fini, "Okay, give the signal. The guy's coming, and I think maybe with help."
"You think he's got the law on his side, Tony?"
"Shut up what I think. Just give the signal."
Fini went to the flying bridge and briefly illuminated the big spotlight, then he returned tensely to his station. "Okay," he whispered.