Blade saw the tall man behind the counter bringing a shotgun up, and he threw himself backward so Hickok wouldn’t be in his line of fire. He squeezed the trigger as he fell, and the Commando thundered and bucked in his brawny hands.
The tall man was caught in the chest and flung from sight.
Blade landed on his back and swiveled to find the customers producing handguns with astonishing swiftness, as if from thin air. But fast as they were, the Family’s preeminent gunfighter was faster.
Hickok came up off his chair with his arms a blurred streak, drawing his Pythons with ambidextrous precision. The Colts boomed three times in succession, the shots spaced so close together they sounded as one, and the three men to the right of the front door went down, each one struck in the head, each dying soundlessly, one of them sprawling over the table while the other two toppled to the floor.
The obese man and the woman in red were taking a bead on the Warriors when Helen cut loose. Her carbine chattered, the slugs ripping into the heavyset man and doubling him over. The woman in red got off a solitary harmless round, and then she was propelled backwards by a burst to her face. She crashed onto a chair and slumped down. The obese man, gurgling and wheezing, staggered a few steps, then pitched forward.
Silence momentarily descended.
Blade leaped to his feet, scrutinizing the bodies to insure none of their foes were moving.
“A piece of cake!” Hickok declared, grinning.
“Check them,” Blade ordered.
The gunman walked toward the nearest corpse to verify the man was dead.
Ma was on her hands and knees, gawking at her dead comrades in amazement.
Helen walked around the table and grabbed Ma by the right shoulder.
“On your feet!” she commanded, hauling the matron erect.
Ma glanced toward the counter. “Poor Harry! He was right! I should have listened to him.”
“Right about what?” Blade demanded.
Ma looked at the giant. “He said we shouldn’t mess with you. He said you were trouble. He was right.”
Helen jabbed her carbine barrel to within an inch of Ma’s nose. “I want some answers, woman, and I want them now!”
Ma gulped. “Whatever you want, dearie.”
“I want to know about the two jeeps,” Helen stated.
Ma began fidgeting with her apron. “The two jeeps?”
Helen’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “Don’t play games with me! Two jeeps came by here recently. When?”
“Yesterday morning,” Ma answered.
“Was there a young woman in one of them?” Helen queried anxiously.
“Let me see,” Ma said reflectively, pursing her lips. “I seem to recall about six or seven men. They pulled in and ordered some food to go.”
Helen placed the tip of the carbine barrel against Ma’s forehead. “You’d better remember more than that.”
Ma was wringing her hands in the apron. “Yes! I do! Now that I think about it, there was a woman with them. She used the facilities.”
“Describe her!” Helen directed.
“Well, I didn’t pay all that much attention,” Ma said. “But I think she had red hair and was wearing a green blouse. I don’t remember the color of her pants.”
“Did you talk to her?” Helen inquired, lowering the carbine.
Ma shook her head. “Like I said, they pulled in and ordered some food to go. I saw them through the window, standing next to the jeeps and stretching their legs. Two of them came in and ordered the food. And two of them went with the young lady and waited outside the door while she did her business.”
Hickok strolled over, his Pythons in his hands. “They’re all fit for the vultures,” he said.
Ma glanced at the gunman. “I’ve got to hand it to you, sonny. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve seen my share of men who fancied themselves quick with a gun, but I’ve never seen anyone the likes of you.”
Hickok chuckled. “Just natural aptitude, I reckon.”
Blade crossed to the counter and peered over the rim. The tall man was crumpled on the floor, blood oozing from a half-dozen holes. He turned and studied the matron. “What was the setup here?”
“Setup?” Ma repeated innocently.
“Whatever it was,” Hickok mentioned, “it was mighty slick. Those cow chips had their handguns taped underneath their tables.”
Blade walked up to Ma. “What was the setup? Did your gang rob the customers who came through?”
Ma snorted. “I wouldn’t stay in business long if I did that, now would I? Besides, I wouldn’t stoop to petty robbery.”
“Then what was it?” Blade snapped.
“I’m in the skin trade,” Ma said.
“The what?” Blade responded.
“Oh. I keep forgetting. You don’t know a thing about Vegas,” Ma said.
“So let me fill you in. There are dozens of casinos in Vegas. And for every casino there are five houses—”
“Houses?” Blade interrupted.
“Yeah. You know. Brothels. Whorehouses,” Ma stated. “Houses of prostitution.”
“Prostitu—” Blade began in astonishment.
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you don’t know what a prostitute is?” Ma asked.
“I’ve read about them,” Blade admitted.
“Read about them?” Ma said, then laughed. “You’ve never visited a whorehouse?”
“No,” Blade replied.
“Now I know you’re from the moon!” Ma quipped.
“What do these whorehouses and the casinos have to do with your setup?” Blade questioned.
“I’m in the skin trade,” Ma explained. “There aren’t as many women around as there used to be. The houses and the casinos need women.
Pretty women. Lots and lots of them. I’m in the supply business. If a real looker comes along, like your friend here, I arrange to send her to Vegas.”
“How do you arrange it?” Blade probed.
Ma nodded at the tray of milk on the table. “Usually we drug their drinks. When they pass out, we grab them. Easy as pie.”
“But what if there are others with them? What if they’re with their family?” Blade inquired.
“They’re taken care of,” Ma said.
“You mean they’re killed,” Blade deduced.
Ma didn’t respond.
Helen’s lips curled downward distastefully. “You drug women and force them into a life of prostitution? How could you?”
“Don’t look down your nose at me, dearie!” Ma rejoined. “Being a pro isn’t as bad as all that. I should know. I worked the line once, I worked my way up to become the madam at one of the top casinos in Vegas. But there comes a time when you get put out to pasture, when you get too old for the trade. So when Don Giorgio offered me this franchise, I could hardly refuse. I make a good living here.”
“Who is Don Giorgio?” Blade asked.
“He’s the head of the second most powerful Family in Vegas,” Ma answered.
“How long have you been doing this?” Blade queried.
“Four years,” Ma said.
“So you planned to drug us and sell me into prostitution?” Helen wanted to know.
“I was going to do it,” Ma admitted, “but Harry talked me out of the idea. He said you were packing too much hardware, that you looked like you could handle yourselves. He said you were professionals, that we should let you leave in peace. So I agreed. Harry was always a shrewd judge of character.” She paused and snickered. “Isn’t this funny? We decide not to try and snatch Helen, we don’t even bother to drug your drinks, and you end up blowing most of us away!”
“It’s hilarious,” Blade said dryly.
“We should head on out,” Helen urged. “Mindy must be in Vegas by now.”
“Tell me something,” Ma said to Helen. “What’s this girl to you?”
Helen’s features hardened. “She’s my daughter.”