It was enough; not too much. Mazzarelli understood the finer nuances of the word game. The smile became genuine as he stuck out a ham like paw. Bolan shook the hand and smiled back. The Bear said, "Glad you could make it. We're setting up hospitality in the garden. It's very nice out there. You'll like it. Nick wants you should get comfortable and feel at home. Can you stay awhile?"
Bolan made it sound like a regret. "Not long, no."
They crossed a large room featuring a vaulted ceiling and two outer walls of glass. Directly beyond was an elevated garden overlooking the pool. Pools, rather. One was for swimming; numerous others very obviously were not-they were ponds, actually, containing varieties of aquatic plants and clustered about the large central pool to create a beautifully tropic effect. Exotic potted plants and miniature trees combined with all that for a stunningly sensual experience. Swimming there, one would have the definite sensation of a paradise.
Two beautiful girls in microscopic bikinis added a positive dimension to that effect.
"Nice, huh," Mazzarelli said proudly.
Bolan laughed lightly and said, "Maybe I could stay awhile."
"Stay as long as you like," said the Bear. "Summer, winter-it's all the same here."
Bolan could believe that. The whole garden area was enclosed within a dome-like metallic framework in which were emplaced hinged panels of tinted glass. Apparently the panels could be opened or closed for changing environmental needs.
"I'd get soft, here," Bolan growled appreciatively.
Mazzarelli laughed. "No way," he said. "Not with Nick around. And speak of the devil…"
The lord of the manse was approaching, making his appearance via another doorway into the garden. He was a handsome man of medium size and graceful carriage. The sight of him triggered a small peephole in Bolan's mental mug file, bringing to mind the memory of a long obscure intelligence file on the guy. And Bolan had him made, now. Years ago, they had called him "the Professor" because of his interest in books. It was said that he nursed ambitions to be an author and had once been severely reprimanded for maintaining a clandestine diary toward a future attempt at autobiography. All that had been years ago, while he served the late Mafia lord of Los Angeles, Julian "Deer” DiGeorge. There was very little open knowledge of Copa's activities during recent years.
He came forward, hand outstretched, and smiling broadly. "Omega… it's a pleasure, a sincere pleasure."
Bolan shook hands and they sat down at a small table in a grove of miniature palms. The pool was directly ahead and about ten feet below. The bathing beauties were splashing quietly and without much animation in the shallow end. Bolan recognized them for what they were-stage props-as much a part of the scenery as the potted plants surrounding them. A couple of hard-looking guys in white coats were ceremoniously attending to the refreshments which had been wheeled up in elegant serving carts.
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."