Meanwhile, it was small talk time.
Mazzarelli said, "Omega says he'd get soft here, Nick. I can't believe that. Can you?"
The boss of Nashville laughed politely as he replied, "He's pulling your leg, Gordy. Omega here is the hardest case New York can send. So you better get worried. He didn't come all the way down here to romp in the Garden of Eden."
"No I didn't," Bolan admitted, smiling. "But I'm almost converted. This must have cost a lot of bucks, Nick."
Copa the capo waved his hand in dismissal of the consideration as he replied, "What's money for if not to improve the quality of life? I've got a hundred and sixty acres here of God's country. It's my own little kingdom. Everything I need and want is right here. How do you put a price tag on that?"
Bolan said, "You're right."
Mazzarelli had not come that far in the conversation. He quietly asked, "What should I be,worried about?"
Copa arched an eyebrow at Bolan and laughed softly. "What should he be worried about, Omega?"
Bolan did not laugh with him. The small talk was ended. Very softly, he replied, "Plenty." The nuance was perfect.
And the Bear did not like it. He was very obviously on the defensive as he asked. "Did this guy check out, Nick?"
"Of course he checked out." Copa made a little ceremony of returning the ID wallet to Bolan. "That," he said soberly, for Mazzarelli's benefit, "is an Aces' Full House. What Omega wants, Omega gets in this territory." The next was directed only at the visitor. "Let's talk like men."
Bolan nodded. "You always do, Nick."
The Professor liked that nuance. He said, "Thanks. Here's what I want to say. I don't know anything about the troubles in New York. I'm not part of them and they're not part of me. I have no complaints with the administration. You guys have been doing a whale of a job and my doors are wide open to you. If you have a problem then I have a problem and vice versa. Like I said, my doors are wide open. But I run a tight ship. I don't want you doing anything in my territory unless you've cleared it with me, first. Now that's about as plain as I can put it."
"That's plain enough," Bolan replied, not committing himself to anything further.
"So why are you here?"
"I came to get Carl Leonetti."
"Who?"
The Bolan gaze turned fully upon Mazzarelli although it was clear that he was responding to the other. "You'll remember Roberto. Carl is his kid."
Copa thought about that for a moment before quietly replying, "That goes way back. Roberto's wife and kid disappeared ten, fifteen years ago. You're not still looking for them?"
"The lady died ten years ago. The kid did not. He came to Nashville last week. He's needed in New York. I came to take him home."
Mazzarelli's eyes became non committal slits, but the rest of the face was pure mama mia once again. "You mean you came to hit 'im," he said.
"I mean exactly what I said," Bolan told him.
"Wait a minute here," Copa said, in obvious confusion-and it seemed genuine. "There's more to this than I'm hearing. Why would Roberto's kid be in my territory? What's this all about?"
That was good enough for Bolan. It confirmed a feeling he'd had almost from the beginning. "Gordy can tell you more about that than I can," he said quietly.
The Copa gaze traveled quickly and compellingly to his lieutenant. "What's this all about?"
"I thought I told you," Mazzarelli said blandly.
"Told me what?"
"It's no big deal. I guess it wasn't important enough and I just forgot. Clemenza ran into the Leonetti kid awhile back when he was on a buying trip. You know. I think they had some kind of business deal. I don't know for sure. Anyway, Leonetti turns up here, maybe a week ago. In town, I mean. I guess he was looking for a connection."
"Did he say he was hot?"
"He didn't say, Nick."
"What did he say?"
Bolan was clearly no longer a participant in the conversation at the table. It was almost as though the other two had forgotten his presence. Which is perhaps why he was the first to become aware of the lady. He did not know how long she had been standing there in the background. But there she was-very striking, very lovely. She wore a silk lounging suit-on the order of a jumpsuit-and wore it very well. The dark hair was shoulder length and tawny, the eyes large and suffering. The age was anyone's guess but Bolan would call it quite a bit younger than Copa. And there was something very familiar about that haunted, pretty face.
Bolan came to his feet and greeted her with, "Well, hello."
That ended the private conversation between the other two. Copa stood up quickly and took the lady's hand. He told Bolan-Omega, "I said everything I wanted was right here. This is most of it. Omega, meet Mrs. Copa. Maybe you already know her as Molly Franklin."
Of course. Most people in the country would have found something very familiar about the lady. She was one of the current legends of the Nashville music scene. She'd come to this town as a raggedy teenager from a mountain hamlet with a suitcase full of original music and a voice to give unique life to that music. And she'd conquered Music City long ago, very nearly conquering all of America, as well, through television appearances in recent years.
Bolan murmured an acknowledgement of the introduction and the four sat down to small talk and light refreshments. After several minutes, Copa suggested that the lady show the visitor around the garden. She softly acquiesced. Bolan and the lady wandered away. Copa and Mazzarelli immediately returned to their original conversation.
She was showing Bolan a rubber tree which overhung the swimming pool, speaking almost mechanically in that soft drawl of the problems inherent in tropical gardening in Tennessee, when she shifted smoothly into another problem much closer to Mack Bolan's interests.
"Can you get me out of here?" she quietly inquired.
He was not certain that he heard her rightly. "What?"
"Can you get me out of here?"
"Can't you get yourself out?"
"I wouldn't be asking you if I could."
"Are you a prisoner?"
"Yes I am a prisoner. In my own home. This is my home, dammit and he won't let me-will you take me with you?"
Bolan took her arm and moved her along the pool's edge. "What makes you think I can?"
"The whole house has been buzzing ever since you got here. I've heard nothing else. You're an important man. I know you can take me away if you want to."
"I wouldn't want to get in the middle of a family spat," he told her.
"It is not a family spat." She shot a look of pure hatred toward the table. "Let him have it. I just want out of here."
"Let him have what?"
"The house, the land, all of it. But not me. I want out."
All of which was very interesting and intriguing to Bolan the Bold… but perhaps also a complication which might prove very hazardous to the mission goal.
He told the lady, "You put me in a very delicate position."
The lady told the visitor. "Well you won't find what you're looking for here."
He said, "You know what I'm looking for?"
"I heard enough that I can guess. You won't find him here. Her, either. Get me out and I'll tell you where to find them."
Complicating, yeah. But very, very interesting. Unless the lady was merely grasping at straws.
"Convince me," Bolan said quietly.
"He's from Singapore. He has a Russian wife. Gordy is trying to-and we-the flowering plants make such a mess of the pool, and we…"
She'd shifted back just in time. Copa was moving toward them… almost upon them.
Bolan told the lady with the haunted face, convinced. You've got a real problem here."
Copa said, "No problem can't be fixed. Right, honey?"
"I don't know," she said coldly.