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.
"Depends on the proper approach," Bolan said, speaking for the benefit of both. He made eye contact with the lady and put as much understanding as he could gather there. "You have to pick your own time and place. I always do that." He turned to her husband. "Right, Rick?"
Copa laughed and said, "Better listen to the man, honey. Troubleshooting is his business."
"I heard every word he said," the lady reassured her husband.
Yeah. Bolan was sure of that.
She'd heard, also, every word he had not said.
So now what?
CHAPTER 11
They had been silently strolling the grounds and had reached a point about midway between the house and the outbuildings when Copa sourly declared, "I hope you don't mind me walking your legs off. I think better on my feet."
Indeed, Bolan did not mind the walk. He was getting a good feel of the place. And he was getting an even better feel of the man. "You're lucky to have a place like this, Nick," he told him. "The cities are just getting to be too much. New York has gone completely crazy. The others aren't far behind."
"Don't I know it," said the other. "Take L.A. Take Chicago. Take even Vegas. Artificial. It's all artificial." Several paces farther, the conversation turned to a serious note. "Omega, I'm worried."
"Uh huh. About Gordy?"
"Who else?"
"How long has he been with you now?" Bolan inquired.
"Just long enough for me to start wondering. I didn't know him very well, before. Just his reputation. You?"
Bolan grinned. "They didn't start calling him Crazy Gordy for nothing."
The responding grin was more of a grimace. "He's crazy all right. Like a fox."
Bolan was treading a delicate line. He kept that balance as he told the boss of Nashville, "I know nothing behind him, Nick. Far as we know, he's always been a good company man."
"Far as we know, right. But what is all this shit, Omega? What's going on?"
"What did Gordy tell you?"
"He said Roberto's kid came in from the Orient looking for a connection. Said he was worried about the old trouble and didn't know where he stood. Said he was quietly asking around. Gordy says he met with the kid, in town. Had dinner with him and his wife. They small talked. The kid asked for nothing, Gordy offered him nothing. They were supposed to meet again, the next day. The kid was going to call to confirm the meet. He didn't call. Gordy says that's all he knows."
"Maybe that's straight and maybe it's not," Bolan-Omega said quietly. "There's more here than meets the eye."
"So I figured, yeah. But why would he lie about it?"
"That's for you to say," Bolan replied cryptically. "But I have to tell you, Nick… the reason I came down…"
"Don't stop there. Say it."
"Well, you've got a problem here."
"Don't I know it. I guess you know that Dandy Jack took a big fall last night. This is tied to that, somehow, isn't it?"
Bolan said, "I'm afraid it is, Nick."
"Gordy and this Leonetti kid. They're part of that."
"Right. Only the kid is no longer a kid. He's a man. With ideas. You know."
Copa knew, sure. "I see."
"He was Clemenza's man in the Far East." "Is that a fact?"
"It's a fact, Nick."
The guy had a great poker face. "I see." "Here's the way we get it."
"I'm listening," said the Lord of Nashville. He was paying no attention whatever to the direction of their stroll. Bolan was deftly maneuvering the course toward the large central barn.
"Leonetti brought in the shipment that went down with Clemenza last night. He-"
"But the goods arrived just yesterday. The kid hit town-"
"He was supposed to have dropped it off in South America. And he did. But he did not return to home base, like he was supposed to. Instead, he hopped a plane to Nashville. Not to Memphis, Nick. To Nashville."
"I see. Why?"
"The way we make it, he was carrying another shipment."
A moment later, Copa said, "I see."
Damn right he saw.
So did Bolan. They were directly opposite the barn, now. The huge sliding doors were partially agape. A row of large packing crates were stacked just inside. The floor was slick and clean. But it was still too far away to give up any secrets.
The Mafia boss was deep in thought, his mind far removed from the stretch of turf at his feet.
"What, uh-this, uh-are you saying that Clemenza's fall last night is related to all this? Directly, I mean?"
"All I'm saying," Bolan quietly replied, "Is that Dandy Jack had a secret competitor. Let's call him X. So X hits the scene about a week before Dandy's stuff is scheduled to arrive. Very conveniently, for X, Dandy then takes fall-all his product with him. Which leaves X in a very fortunate position. Wouldn't you say?"