“Stop!” Ozzi barked when they were six feet from the stairwell. “Stand facing the left wall.”
Hickok obeyed.
Ozzi carefully moved past the Warrior and up to the door. He was about to push it open so he could enter the stairwell first. The Warrior might be tempted to swing the door into him, or use it as a shield while drawing the Colts. By going first, he thwarted both strategies. He detected motion on the other side of the door and glanced through the window.
Kenney was hurrying up the stairs, his countenance uncharacteristically grim. He disappeared a moment later.
What the hell?
For a few seconds Ozzi was mystified. Why was Kenney heading upstairs? Normally, Kenney would be conducting his daily casino rounds, inspecting all the tables and insuring everything was running smoothly.
There was nothing upstairs of any interest. Except, of course, for Mindy.
Mindy!
A hard object unexpectedly touched Ozzi’s left ear.
“Guess who?” Hickok quipped.
Ozzi gulped, his eyes on the stairwell.
“Let go of the hardware,” Hickok directed, his right Colt pressed against the mobster’s head. He grabbed the top of the Detonics pistol.
Ozzi released the weapon.
“Smart man,” Hickok said. He slid the pistol under his belt. “Now let’s mosey back to Nadine’s room.”
Ozzi slowly turned. His mind was racing with the implications of Kenney’s presence in the stairwell. Kenney never varied his routine. Never.
But the man was doing so now? Why? A queasy sensation developed in Ozzi’s gut. “Wait!” he blurted.
“Quit stallin’,” Hickok admonished.
Ozzi looked at the gunman. “Do you know Mindy?”
Hickok was instantly all attention. “Mindy? What about her?”
“She’s the reason you’re here, right?” Ozzi inquired.
Hickok nodded. “How do you know about Mindy?”
Ozzi hesitated. What if he was wrong? The Don would never forgive him. But if he was right, then the Don must have sanctioned the killing.
“Mindy is two floors up,” he revealed. “I think she’s in danger.”
“What do you care?” Hickok asked suspiciously. “Is this your notion of a cockamamie trick?”
“No!” Ozzie responded. “I’m serious, man! She could be in danger.”
“Take me to her,” Hickok directed. If Mindy was really in danger, retrieving the Henry would have to wait. Every second counted.
Ozzi turned and opened the stairwell door. He took the stairs two at a stride.
Hickok stuck with the trigger man. He was puzzled by the mobster’s evident sincerity, and he decided to go with his instincts. If Mindy was in the Palace, he intended to rescue her. And no passel of mangy city slickers was going to stand in his way!
Ozzi passed the landing for the ninth floor.
Hickok drew his left Colt.
As the landing for the tenth floor loomed overhead, Ozzi slowed slightly.
What if he was making a fool of himself? What if Kenney was just checking on Mindy’s welfare? He was behaving rashly, and a wiseguy needed a cool head at all times. What had Don Giorgio said in Minnesota?
“If you blow your cool, you’re a fool.” His best bet was to confirm Mindy was okay on the sly, a task he could not perform with the Warrior in tow.
No sooner did the realization dawn upon him than he threw himself backwards, hoping to catch the gunman unawares.
He nearly succeeded.
Hickok’s lightning reflexes served him in good stead. He dodged to the left to avoid the hit man’s hurtling body, but Ozzi grabbed his right arm and yanked, causing him to lose his balance and to topple backwards.
The pair tumbled down the stairwell for eight feet.
Hickok’s head smacked onto the edge of one of the concrete steps, and he wound up on his left side, dazed. He saw Ozzi come out of a roll and dive toward him, and he managed to lash out with his right foot and kick the button man in the face.
Ozzi was knocked for a loop. He landed on his back, four steps below the Warrior.
Hickok surged erect as Ozzi was rising. He took a stride and slammed the barrel of his right Python across the mobster’s mouth.
Ozzi, staggered, reeled.
Hickok closed in, battering the hit man again and again. First the left Colt, then the right, then the left once more.
Ozzi, his mouth and chin a bloody, pulpy mess, sank to his knees, then collapsed.
Hickok was tempted to plug the varmint, but the shot might attract other gangsters. He holstered the Colts and glanced up the stairwell. Was Mindy really in the building, or had Ozzi fabricated the story to augment his chances of turning the tide? Hickok knew he couldn’t afford to leave without verifying whether Mindy was in the Palace, whether she actually was on the tenth floor.
He jogged up the stairs.
If Ozzi had been right about everyone being down in the casino, finding an alternate exit from the Palace should be a piece of cake. A side door would suffice, or a window close to the ground.
Hickok reached the tenth floor landing and halted, peering through the window in the door.
The corridor was vacant.
Warily, his ears straining, Hickok opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He advanced slowly until he came abreast of the nearest door on the right. His right hand closed on the doorknob.
The danged thing was locked!
Hickok frowned as he surveyed the corridor. There were over a dozen rooms. Which one was Mindy in? He walked to the next door, which was on the left, and touched the knob.
A piercing, terrified scream abruptly shattered the stillness.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“How did you persuade all of your customers to leave so quickly?” Blade asked.
“Would you want to be caught in the middle of a war?” Don Pucci rejoined.
Blade grinned, “I see your point.”
They were in the center of the casino, watching the preparations being made by the Don’s soldiers. Over three dozen armed trigger men were industriously piling furniture and wooden crates several feet from the ten glass doors, erecting a makeshift wall.
Mario approached. “The calls have all been made,” he announced. “All the troops will be here within the hour.”
“Weapons?” Don Pucci queried.
“All the weapons and explosives are being brought up from downstairs,” Mario replied.
“What if Giorgio attacks before you’re ready for him?” Blade inquired.
“He won’t attack,” the Don responded.
“Why not?”
“Giorgio is scum, but he’s not stupid,” Don Pucci said.
“Right now he’s doing the same thing I’m doing, fortifying his casino and calling in his button men. This will be a war of attrition.” He paused.
“Constructing his casino next to mine was a stroke of genius.”
“How so?” Blade probed.
“Years ago, Giorgio and I were on friendly terms. His ambition was not so obvious, but he was planning ahead, even then,” Don Pucci detailed.
“He asked to build his casino across the boulevard, and I assented. Now his reasons are obvious. No one will be able to enter or leave by the front doors. Our business will grind to a halt, and our financial reserves will be severely depleted the longer the war continues. If I run out of funds, I will be seriously weakened. Money talks in this town. Giorgio is in a position to keep tabs on every activity around the casino.”
“But it works both ways,” Blade noted. “And you’ll still have the rear exits you can use.”
“Unless Giorgio tries to surround the Golden Crown, to cut it off from the rest of the city,” Don Pucci said. “Our provisions will not last indefinitely.”
“Will you take the offensive?” Blade questioned.