She paused and snickered. “Then there were the government types, the politicians, the most dishonest bunch of all. They stole from the people to fatten their big bellies, but they made their stealing legal. They called their system taxation. Property taxes, sales taxes, income taxes. The people were taxed to the max, and hardly complained because they trusted the politicians who were robbing them silly.”
“Hold on there,” Hickok interrupted. “I studied some history when I was knee-high to a grasshopper. And my teacher explained things differently. Not all politicians were crooked. There were some who cared about the people and wanted to help them. And how can you call the average folks stupid just because they obeyed the law?”
“They were stupid because they let others run their lives!” Ma replied vehemently.
Blade pursed his lips in contemplation. He had observed the woman closely as she talked. Ma wasn’t the bumpkin she pretended to be, and under her seemingly friendly exterior was a heart of stone. “You mentioned there were three classes,” he prompted her.
Ma smiled. “The third class was the best. They didn’t pretend to be something they weren’t. They knew the score. They knew there are only three things in life that matter: money, power, and loyalty. They were the organized-crime Families, and they controlled most of the action from coast to coast. The lousy politicians tried to rub the Families out, but couldn’t. The Families were too strong for the government and a hell of a lot smarter. The leaders, the Dons, saw the war coming months in advance. And they decided to do something about it.”
“What did they do?” Blade inquired.
“They already had a foothold in Vegas, so they decided to take the city over, lock, stock, and barrel,” Ma detailed. “They flocked to Vegas right before the war began, and they were in place and ready when the crap hit the fan. When the government collapsed, it was child’s play for the Families to take control. They had more soldiers in Vegas than all the law enforcement agencies combined.”
“Soldiers?” Hickok said.
“Yeah. Button men. Trigger men. Hit men. They’re all basically the same thing.” She grinned. “So the mob has been in control of Vegas ever since. There were some rough times at first, what with the Dons unable to agree on territories and percentages. For over ten years they fought it out.
The Seven Families War it’s called. One Family came out on top, and their bloodline has ruled the city for seventy years. From father to son to grandson, they’ve passed the leadership on down the line. Their Don is the supreme Don.”
“Does this Don have a name?” Blade casually asked.
Ma nodded. “The Don who runs the whole show is Don Pucci. Don Anthony Pucci.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Helen’s fingers gripped her Carbine until her hands started to tremble.
She gritted her teeth and released the Armalite, composing her features with an effort. “Did you say Pucci?”
“Yes,” Ma said. “Have you heard of him?”
Helen nodded.
Ma chuckled. “I guess everybody has heard of Don Pucci.”
“What happened to the other Families?” Blade asked.
“They’re still around,” Ma replied. “But their Dons must take orders from Don Pucci. He makes sure they all toe the line, that they all stick to their territories and don’t start any trouble.”
“So the Families have divided up Vegas among them,” Blade commented, pondering the implications for the mission.
Ma gazed from one Warrior to the next. “Hey! I hope nothing I’ve said will stop you from going to Vegas. You’ll have a great time.”
“We will?” Blade questioned.
“Sure,” Ma stated with conviction. “Vegas is more fun than it ever was.
Thousands of people go there every year. The casinos are open around the clock. There’s gambling and booze and floor shows, just like in the old days. You’ll love it.”
“People go there all the time?” Blade inquired.
“Thousands,” Ma reiterated. “They come from Arizona, California, the Civilized Zone, everywhere. We even had some Russian officers not too long ago.”
Blade straightened. “Russians in Vegas?”
“Sounds weird, doesn’t it?” Ma said. “But I guess the Commies like a good time as much as the next person.” She leaned over the table.
“Confidentially, I heard the real reason they were in Vegas was to conduct business with Don Pucci.”
“What kind of business?” Blade asked.
Ma shrugged. “Beats me. The Don doesn’t fill me in on his private deals.”
Blade was trying to analyze all of this new information. There were so many unanswered questions. How was it he had never heard about Vegas before? Were there really patrons coming from as far away as California and the Civilized Zone, two allies of the Family? If so, why hadn’t one of their many friends told them what was happening? Surely the leaders of the Civilized Zone and California must be aware of the situation.
“You sure know a lot about Vegas,” Hickok mentioned.
“I should,” Ma said. “Like I told you, I was born there. I spent most of my life in Vegas, and I’ve been around for a long time. I’m fifty-four years old.”
Blade saw the tall cook loading a tray with plates of food: steaks, potatoes, corn, and bread. He began to wonder if his suspicions were groundless. The three men at the table to the right of the door were sipping at their coffee, and the obese man and the woman in red were talking and laughing. He decided to sit tight, finish the meal, and if they weren’t attacked, to leave without provoking an incident.
But one of his companions wasn’t so inclined.
Helen locked her green eyes on Ma. “How long ago did the jeeps come through here?” she unexpectedly demanded.
Ma blinked her eyes rapidly several times. “Jeeps?”
“Yeah,” Helen stated harshly. “You heard me. Two jeeps passed this way. I want to know how many people were in them.”
Ma’s lips curled downward. “I haven’t seen any jeeps come by here in weeks, dearie.”
Helen suddenly stood, her Carbine aimed at Ma’s stomach. “Don’t lie to me, bitch! I don’t know what your scam is, but I know you’re a liar. Those jeeps stopped here. I need to know if there was a young woman with them.”
Blade picked up the Commando. All of the customers had swiveled at the sound of the dispute and were watching with intent expressions. The tall man was standing behind the counter, his hands resting on the top.
“Really, dearie,” Ma said soothingly. “I don’t have the faintest notion what you’re talking about.”
Helen’s eyes flashed, her voice lowering. “I’m going to count to three. If you don’t tell me what I need to know by then, I’ll blow you apart.”
Ma glanced at the tall man, then at Helen. “Are you nuts?”
“One,” Helen said, beginning her count.
Blade was tempted to intervene, but held his tongue. Helen had started this gambit; he would do what he could to back her play.
Hickok was grinning from ear to ear, his arms draped over the back of his chair.
“Two,” Helen said.
Ma looked at Blade. “Aren’t you going to do anything? Are you just going to sit there and let her shoot me?”
“If I were you,” Blade advised, “I’d tell her what she wants to know.”
Ma clenched her fists and glared at Helen. “There’s only one thing I’ve got to say to you!” she snapped. “Go to hell!”
“Three,” Helen stated somberly.
Ma abruptly performed a remarkable maneuver. She executed a dive for the floor while bawling at the top of her lungs, “Get them!”