He went over to stand beside the couch and glare down at Stanno. "What the hell is he doin' sleeping?" he snarled.
"Oh, did he forget to get a chit?" the guy at the desk said, with a voice heavy with sarcasm.
There were bad feelings here, very bad feelings, between the locals and the nationals.
Bolan caressed the band-aid at his nose and rubbed a bit of salt. "Did he have a chit at the airport this morning?"
The guy lunged forward and slapped the back of Anders' head, taking it out on him.
The comic's head snapped to the other side and he quickly picked it up. He stared dully at Bolan and said, very distinctly, "Fuck you."
Bolan snickered and said, "Shit, I didn't pop you, guy."
"It still goes," Anders muttered.
"He don't like anybody," Bolan said, grinning.
"He's a smart ass!" the guy at the desk growled, and slapped the helpless man again. "Plays cute games with cops and a certain bastard."
Bolan again looked toward Stanno. "That guy will sleep through anything," he said "Wake 'im up."
"You don't wake 'im up!" the headslapper growled. "He was up all night and all day. Now leave 'im alone."
"Sure, I'll leave 'im alone," Bolan said quietly.
"So whattaya want in here?"
"They sent me." He went over and rubbed Anders' scalp with his knuckles. "They say you've had the guy long enough. They wanta talk to 'im awhile. This guy is our only handle."
"We ain't sure about that!"
"Well when do you figure on getting sure? He was right there when two of your own boys got it, wasn't he!"
"We're working 'im the right way," the guy stubbornly maintained.
"You was," Bolan corrected him in a soft voice.
The two guys in the chairs stood up abruptly. The one at the desk slid off and walked around the chair to show Bolan a fjerce scowl. "I've seen you somewheres, Vinton," he declared.
"You're going to be seeing me a lot," Bolan promised, •cowling back.
"Yeah?"
"On second thought, maybe not. You're so cozy with sleeping beauty there, maybe I'll just let you stay with 'im."
The guy sent a suddenly worried glance to his two companions. He said, "Well now wait. Just what the hell… ?" His gaze slid to Stanno and back to Bolan. His face tightened and he said, "Yeah?"
Quietly, Bolan said, "That's the way it goes."
The two other inquisitors were shuffling their feet about and giving each other significant looks. The spokesman for the trio dropped his voice to a quiet murmur and said, "Well, that's a hell of a note."
In the language of the mob, Joe Stanno's death had just been announced as imminent.
"That's the way it goes," Bolan said again. "You can't do nothing for a leper, you know that, so don't go getting all busted up. Go on downstairs and find something to do. Better than that, get lost for a couple of hours."
"Oh Christ no," the guy groaned, the message just now fully reaching home. "Has it actually got to that?"
"You in love with the guy or something?"
"Well no… but… we been together a long time."
"So you won't want to be around for the next couple of hours," Bolan suggested.
"How the hell can they just decide something like that with the snap of a finger?" the loyal crewchief whispered loudly.
"You wanta go up there and ask them?" Bolan said, the voice now hard and cold.
The guy backed off. His face moved into composed lines and he said, "Forget I said that, huh?"
Bolan shrugged and replied, "I didn't even hear it. Go on, cut out. I'll take care of your pigeon here, too."
The guy squared his shoulders, took a long look at the sleeping man on the couch, then marched quickly from the room. The other two followed close behind. The door closed and Bolan went to work at the sashcord on Anders' wrist.
The comic said, "I'm not no ethnician, but you Wops live lousy lives."
"I'm a Polack," Bolan said, using his own voice.
"I don't care if you're a…" The little man's eyes were opening wider and he was taking his first good look.
Bolan grinned and told him, "Come on, you're going to be late for your first show."
"Hell God, it's you!" the comic whispered.
"I thought the other guy knew it too, for a minute there," Bolan confided. He jerked the ropes away and pulled Anders to his feet. "Can you walk okay?" he asked him.
"Can a jackrabbit jump?" Anders smoothed his hair and straightened his clothing. "I could walk out of this place with two broken legs and a splinted dick."
Bolan chuckled and pushed the comic ahead of him to the door. "Keep it straight until we're clear and running," he cautioned.
"What about Stanno?"
"Let Stanno worry about himself," Bolan said.
They went out and Bolan carefully closed the door.
Max Keno was sitting sideways in his chair. He gave Bolan a scared look and said, "What the hell is going on?"
"Nothing you have to worry about," Bolan told him. "Just don't go opening no doors until I give the word. Not for nobody."
"Hell no, I won't," the little tagman assured him.
"For nobody."
"Right, that's right, boss."
Bolan grinned and touched Keno's chin with his knuckles, then he interlocked arms with Anders and led him down the stairs.
"I've had enough," the comic told him in a low voice. "If you can't keep the ants out of the picnic basket, then you might is well give up the picnic."
"You're throwing in the towel?" Bolan asked, scowling out upon the casino floor.
"I'm getting out. Time to retire, I guess."
"A priest can't retire, Anders."
"What priest? Who said anything..."
"If the mob is the invisible second government in this country, then your business is the invisible second church."
They reached the bottom of the stairs, now unblocked and no sign of the two who'd been there earlier.
Anders was saying, "You wouldn't say that if you'd played the dumps I have."
"It'd be a damn gray world if everybody in your business closed up shop."
They were moving across the casino floor, Bolan looking neither left nor right.
"I guess that's right," the comic said.
"It's true and you know it. That's why the biz captures anybody who brashes it. It's where the soul is, and you know it. It's where your soul is, Anders, and that's why you're straining so hard to keep the ratpacks out."
"Maybe you're right. I never thought of myself as a priest, though. How'd you find me?"
Bolan fiercely stared down a pair of gunners who momentarily blocked his path. The guys gave way and Bolan pushed his man on through.
"How'd you find me?" Anders asked again.
Bolan kept his scowl intact and said, "A couple of unholy sisters showed me the way. I believe they would've gone after you themselves if they'd known exactly where to go."
"What're you talking about?"
But Bolan did not have to answer the question.
The two girls were waiting in the lobby and trying to ignore the ogling attention of the guys in the silk suits.
Bolan gave Anders a hard shove and propelled him into the girls. "Get outta here!" he yelled. "And take your gold-plated sluts with you! I catch you peddling flesh in here again and I'll run you clear outta town!"
The twenty odd people milling around in there froze and interestedly watched the disturbance as the big "torpedo" advanced menacingly on the trio. "I said get out!" he yelled, the voice hard and threatening.