“Don’t shoot!” the man with the white hair shouted. “Don’t shoot! We want to talk!”
The mobsters were over 40 yards off, but still advancing.
“That’s close enough!” Hickok called out.
The man with the white hair said something to his henchmen and they halted.
“What do we have to talk about?” Hickok yelled.
“We don’t want any more shooting!” the man with the white hair said.
“Can I come closer?”
“Come ahead,” Hickok replied.
The man with the white hair cautiously came toward the Warrior. He stared at Mousy’s corpse for several seconds, then at the patrons ringing the lobby. “My name is Kenney,” he said when he was within speaking range.
“You’re Giorgio’s right-hand man?” Hickok queried, recalling the comments Mousy made in the alley earlier.
Kenney nodded. He stopped, scrutinizing the gunfighter. “Who are you?”
“The handle is…” Hickok began, and paused. What name should he give? Blade had given a false name to that Enforcer because the Big Guy didn’t want Don Pucci to know the Warriors were in Las Vegas. Should he do the same? If he gave his real name, would Pucci find out? Did it even matter, since Blade and the others were in the Golden Crown rescuing Mindy? Maybe he should play it safe. “Earp. Wyatt Earp.”
Kenney’s eyes narrowed and his forehead creased. “Mr. Earp, my boss would like to talk to you.”
“Don Giorgio wants to see me?” Hickok responded skeptically.
“Yes. He sent me down to invite you up to his suite,” Kenney said. “He’s been watching you since Security reported you were here.”
“He has?” Hickok queried.
“Yes,” Kenney confirmed. “The whole casino is under constant surveillance by hidden cameras.”
“Why does Giorgio want to see me?” Hickok questioned.
“You must ask him,” Kenney replied. “Will you come with me?”
Hickok nodded toward the other mobsters. “What about those cow chips?”
“They’ll stay down here, if such is your wish,” Kenney said.
“It’d make me feel a mite more relaxed,” Hickok remarked. “My trigger fingers can become awful itchy.”
“You won’t need your guns,” Kenney commented. “No harm will come to you.”
“No one is takin’ my Colts,” Hickok vowed.
“I simply meant you don’t need to keep your revolvers in your hands,” Kenney elaborated. “You can put them in your holsters.”
“They’ll stay right where they are,” Hickok said. “You lead the way. And whatever you do, don’t trip. I might accidentally blow your spine out your bellybutton.”
Kenney turned and walked toward the far wall. “There won’t be any trouble,” he said over his left shoulder.
“For your sake, I hope not,” Hickok stated. He constantly shifted his gaze from gangster to gangster, ready to gun down the first one who made a hostile move. But they and stood still, eying him contemptuously. What was Giorgio up to? he wondered. Giorgio didn’t sound like the forgiving sort. So why did Giorgio want to palaver all of a sudden?
And why, Hickok asked himself, did he have the feeling he was going from the frying pan into the fire?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blade could feel his stomach muscles tightening into a compact knot as he stared at the machine guns trained on Helen, Geronimo, and himself.
“Drop your weapons!” Mario commanded.
“Never!” Helen snapped. “Hand over my daughter!”
Mario adjusted his glasses on his nose. He gazed at the giant and spoke calmly. “I don’t want any needless bloodshed.”
“Neither do we,” Blade assured him.
“Then drop your weapons,” Mario directed. “You’ll be cut down if you try to resist.”
Blade glanced at the man in the white suit, gauging the distance between them as four feet. “You won’t shoot if we put our weapons on the floor?” he asked.
“No. You have my personal guarantee,” Mario stated.
“Okay,” Blade said meekly. “We’ll do it.”
“I won’t!” Helen objected. “No one is taking my weapons!”
Blade looked at her. “You’ll do exactly as I say!” he ordered. “After I put my Commando down, you do the same with your carbine.” He deliberately accented the word “after.”
Helen frowned. “If you insist!”
Blade gazed at Geronimo. “Do you understand?”
Geronimo nodded. “I understand perfectly.”
Blade faced the man in white. “Here goes. Tell your men not to shoot.”
“They won’t fire unless I give the signal,” Mario disclosed.
Blade nodded. “I was hoping you would say that.” He bent over at the waist and deposited his Commando on the red carpet. Releasing the gun, he started to straighten, and as he did he made his move. His right hand whipped his corresponding Bowie free of its sheath, even as he bounded toward Mario, covering the four feet in an easy, quick stride. Before the mobsters in the corridor could fire, he had his left arm around Mario’s shoulders and the right Bowie pressed against the gangster’s neck.
Several of the button men had swiveled, trying to bring their machine guns to bear on the giant, but he had moved too swiftly and was too close to Mario Pileggi to permit them to fire.
“Freeze!” Blade barked, using Mario’s body as a shield. “If just one of you tries anything, this man is dead!”
Mario appeared stunned by the unexpected reversal. “Don’t shoot!” he shouted at his men. “Do as he says!”
“I want all of your guns on the floor! Now!” Blade instructed them.
The hit men hesitated, collectively focused on Mario.
“Do it!” Mario yelled. “Now!”
Hesitantly, the mobsters slowly lowered their machine guns to the floor.
“Now put your hands up and step away from your guns!” Blade declared.
“Do it!” Mario added.
The button men moved back.
Geronimo hastily retrieved Blade’s Commando while keeping his Browning BAR trained on their foes.
Blade dug the tip of the Bowie into Mario’s sweating neck. “Now I want to see Don Pucci.”
“Never!” Mario said.
“Let me have him!” Helen interjected, incensed. “I’ll make him take us to Pucci!”
“Never!” Mario reiterated. “None of us will betray our Don!”
“How touching!” Helen said sarcastically. “He’s being loyal to the bastard who kidnapped my daughter!”
Mario’s eyes narrowed as he intently studied Helen. “You’re serious!” he exclaimed.
Helen took a menacing stride toward him. “Of course I’m serious, you dimwit! What have I been telling you! The Don abducted Mindy, and I want her back now!”
Mario tried to twist his head so he could see the giant holding him, but the sharp point of the Bowie prevented him from turning. “You can release me,” he said.
“Not on your life,” Blade stated. “You’re our ticket out of here, our insurance against interference.”
“If you want to see Don Pucci, you’d better let me go,” Mario advised. “I promise you I’ll arrange a meeting.”
“Why should we trust you?” Blade demanded.
“Because I believe your story,” Mario said. “I believe this woman’s daughter was abducted, and I believe you think Don Pucci is responsible. I didn’t believe her before. I thought you were using the story as a ruse to get close to the Don so you could whack him.”
“If he took my daughter,” Helen remarked bitterly, “he’s as good as dead!”
Blade glanced at Geronimo. “Cover us. I’m going to release him.”