"I'd say, yeah," Copa growled softly. "And where does that put Z?"
Meaning, of course, Mazzarelli.
Bolan said, "Depends on where he stands with X, I'd say."
"So would I," said the boss. "How sure are you of all of this?"
"Sure enough that I came as quick as I could," said the visiting Ace.
"I appreciate that. Okay. So I've got a problem. Thanks."
Bolan said, "More than maybe it seems right off, Nick. We, uh-it's so delicate, we, ph -we didn't want to barge in."
"No, no, it's okay," the boss assured the visitor. "I appreciate it."
Bolan could now read the lettering on the crates in the barn. Electronic equipment.
"Who, uh-I have to ask-who funded the buy?”
"Oh, well-you know-a lot of people are in is. Who's funding Leonetti?"
"The same people," Bolan replied.
"I don't, uh, get your meaning," Copa said lowly.
"It's a shell game."
"Who's got the shells?"
"X has one of them, for sure. Z has one, maybe."
"I still don't get you."
"Can we talk straight out, Nick?"
"Like men, right. Go ahead."
"How much was invested in the product you lost last night?"
"Cash outlay, over a million. Street value-well, it's-"
"Forget the street value. Let's talk cash from the pocket. You say over a million. What I suggest to you that what you lost last night Memphis was worth about half that?"
"Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm saying what if. What if our boy Leonetti got an exceptionally good price in Singapore. What if he was able to actually double the value of the buy? And what if he saw a way to sell you your own goods twice?"
Copa was now chewing invisible nails. "Go on."
Nobody hates to be suckered more than a guy who makes his living suckering others. The bare possibility was eating at Copa's guts.
Bolan quickly sank the spurs a bit deeper. "I believe that Leonetti was really trying to contact you, Nick. But he didn't get there."
"He runs into someone else first," Copa said thickly, picking it up for himself.
"That's what I'm saying, Nick. And this Leonetti kid has not been seen since."
The guy's anger was strangling him. "Okay, thanks," he grunted. "I'll handle it. Thanks for…"
Bolan put a hand on the guy's arm and said, "First things first, Nick. You'll want to safe the investment. Right?"
"Naturally."
"You can still pull it out. That's all I'm suggesting. Leonetti is either at the bottom of the river or he's still around somewhere, under wraps. Either way, the product is here. In your territory. You've already paid for it. It's yours. Right?"
Copa was getting the anger under control. He said, "Go on. Say what you're saying, dammit."
"Don't tip our hand to Gordy. Tip mine." "Meaning what?"
"Drop it on him that I'm really looking for a secret shipment that came in with X. Tell him I almost have it wrapped. I checked in with you just for the courtesy."
Bolan wondered if he had pushed too hard. Copa was stiffening, mentally resisting. The response was troubled, thoughtful. "I never liked cat and mouse, Omega."
So Bolan pulled back. "Forget it, then. It's your territory and your problem. I just wanted you to know."
"I appreciate it, sure," said the boss. "You came a long way-I appreciate it."
They were now less than twenty paces from 'the barn. A hard looking guy stepped through the opening between the hanging doors, a submachine gun cradled at his chest. Bolan's mental mug file clicked to an immediate make. It was one Rudi Folani, an old pro who'd last been noted in the St. Louis area.
Bolan said to Copa, "God, you've dredged them from everywhere, haven't you?"
Copa growled, "I like to stick with the tried and true. But maybe it's not always such a good idea."
They were ten paces out when Bolan called ahead, "How's it swinging, Rudi?"
The guy did a double take as he replied, "There's still a few swings left in it, sir. Do I know you, sir?"
Bolan winked at Copa as he replied, "You'd better not."
Folani understood the meaning of that. It was an embarrassment, a breach of ritual. "Right, sir, I'm sorry."
Copa was still engaged in the inner struggle with his own troubles, but he seemed to be putting it all aside as he told Bolan, "Rudi is still the best of his kind, Omega. He never asks why or how. He only asks what."
"You're right," said Bolan-Omega. "They don't come like that in the new packages, do they?"
Folani did not mind being the subject of such praise. He stroked the auto, grinned at the lords of his realm, and went back inside.
"I meant it," said Copa, quietly. "Rudi's the best there is. And he's not so old. He's still mean as sin."
"Just don't give him much to think about," Bolan suggested.
"Oh, you're right there. I don't." The guy was loosening up. "But he's a perfect watchdog. The best. I say sit and he sits. I say hit and he hits. That's all I want from Rudi."
"That's all you need from Rudi," Bolan agreed. "Just keep him on the family jewels and you can rest your mind "
It was enough. Copa's gaze flicked to the barn as he responded to it. "You know about that, huh?" He chuckled, though without great humor. "You guys are the beatingest "
No, Bolan did not "know about that." But he was trying. "A bit here and a piece there, Nick," he explained while not explaining. "We haven't been nosing around. But we do hear things. You know?"
Yes, Nick knew. It was the Ace's duty to hear things. He said, "Right-you can't help that, I guess. Neither can I. Sometimes I-even-it's hard to keep a lid on, isn't it? The boys sometimes talk right out, in front of Mrs. Copa. I've told 'em and told 'em, and still they-what the hell can you do?"
"You keep her on a short leash, I guess," Bolan replied sympathetically.
"Right. That's all you can do. At least until I get it all safed. But-well I guess you noticed-it gets on her nerves. Hell, I hate that. But what can I do?"
The boss of Nashville was coming around, again. Not exactly jovial-but talkative, anyway. "You're doing it," Bolan assured him. "I wouldn't worry. She's a class lady. She'll pick up.”
"Oh sure."
"You can't afford to risk a misstep, now." "Hell no. I risk nothing."
Bolan could not nudge it beyond that. He, too, could not afford a misstep; he could not openly pry into the secrets of that barn.
Something else had become nudged loose during the exchange, though. The Mafia boss had relaxed somewhat and he seemed to be rethinking his problem with Crazy Gordy Mazzarelli.
"You think I should try drawing Gordy out, eh?"
"Hey, Nick, forget it. I didn't come to tell you how to-"
"No, no, come off that. You're the troubleshooter. How would you handle it?"
Bolan sighed and took a couple more steps toward the barn, He very deliberately produced a cigarillo and lit it while shaded eyes prohibited the secrets of that interior. Then he turned back to Copa and told him, "I wouldn't walk straight up and hit him on the mouth, Nick. That could be a costly piece of satisfaction. I’d cool it, and watch him, and wait my chance."
That other voice was barely audible as it plied, "Do it, then."
Bolan shifted his gaze about fifteen degrees to the right as he asked just as quietly, "Did I hear your fingers snap, Nick?"
"You did."
They both knew the meaning of that. The troubleshooter had just received a license to hunt from the Lord of the Hills.