"On the top of the hotel, boss?"
"No hell no, not the hotel, the casino."
"Oh yeah, I gotcha."
"He comes down on top of the joint."
"Yessir, I got that."
"That don't give you much time, so you better get busy."
"Oh yeah, sure. Uh, you coming out tonight?"
"I might. I might not. Depends how things go. I guess it's in good hands out there, eh Red?"
"Oh, yes sir, you can count on that."
"Right. Now you get busy."
Bolan hung up and massaged his fist against his neck and stared glumly at his sleeping beauty.
Damn! The numbers were getting brutall.
The brothers had finished a six-course repast elegantly prepared by the self-proclaimed best chef on the Strip. It was their first meal of a long and hard day, and now they were relaxing and unwinding taut nerves on the penthouse terrace with brandy and handrolled cigars.
"How long can this go on?" Pat wondered aloud.
"It'll break. Any minute it will break," Mike assured his brother.
"I wish I could be that sure. I keep wondering if he's halfway to the border by now."
"No, the guy's an ego-freak. He knows we're in town.
He knows he missed us at the airport. He'll be showing."
"I wish Joe could get something out of the funny man."
"I don't believe the funny man knows anything," Mike said. "If I did, I'd be talking to him myself — or I'd have him torn in half by now and gagging on his own cock."
The other brother made a face and said, "Not on a full stomach, my brother."
A bodyguard at the roof railing chuckled and commented, "Not on any stomach. Yuck."
The brothers laughed and sipped their brandies.
Presently, Pat observed, "Bolan doesn't leave many tracks."
"Just all over our backs," the other said, smiling.
"It's a hell of a way to fight a war. You wait until the guy rears up and pops you. Then you try to pop him back before he disappears again."
"Go tell it in Vietnam."
They laughed again. "You want to call it off?" Mike asked.
Pat Talifero snorted and got to his feet. "Not until I take a bath in his blood," he said.
They laughed again.
Pat went to the railing and stood beside the bodyguard to gaze down upon the neon jungle spreading in both directions away from their position. "That's some battlefield," he said. "You know something? I hate this goddamned town. Always have. Don't they have an atom bomb testing place somewhere around here?"
The bodyguard said, "Yessir."
"They oughta have a mis-fire."
Mike Talifero laughed. "What you need is a fresh lay. There's lots of talent around."
"As long as that guy is alive," Pat replied, "it would be like playing with myself."
"You swearing off for the duration?"
"Not hardly."
Mike laughed some more, then told his brother, "Well, tonight will be the night."
"I wish I could be that sure," the other said glumly. "I just can't see the guy hanging around after what he did to us this morning."
"Look, he'll hit again, I know he will. So stop beefing."
"I hope it's soon. I want to get out of here."
"It's the wrong foot we arrived on I'd like to take that fuckin' Stanno and shove something up his ass. And I might. If the guy wasn't so damned effective.…"
"Most of the time, you mean," Pat said.
"Yeah, that's what I meant. Joe's okay, I guess."
"Yeah, but one more fuck-up like this morning, and…"
"Right," Mike agreed. "The next is the last."
Bodyguards were supposed to develop hearing problems during such candid moments This one was gazing at the stars and totally out of the conversation.
"Remember Siffy Peters?" Pat asked.
"They sometimes called him Shaker Sam," Mike recalled.
"Right. He tried to pull that amnesia gag on old man Marinello."
"That was that Bronx rumble," Mike said.
They were laughing it up.
The bodyguard continued to stargaze, but put in with, "I never did hear what became of Siffy."
Still laughing, Mike told him, "You never will, either. Not unless you can operate a jackhammer at the bottom of the Hudson."
Pat sniggered and added, "And you'd have to chip away two feet of concrete bathing suit."
"Siffy Peters was a better hit man than Joe Stanno," the bodyguard said. "That is, until he got all conked up with the siff."
"You think so?" Mike asked.
"That's what I think," the guy replied.
A lieutenant stepped onto the terrace and stood quietly by the doorway, awaiting recognition of his presence.
Pat Talifero was leaning against the railing, staring straight at the new arrival. Presently he asked, "What is it now?"
"Guy here to see you, boss. Guy runs the hotel."
"What the hell does he want?"
"He says, just droppin in."
"Tell him to just drop out. We got no time for — what's new from the street?"
"Glitter Gulch checked in, 'bout five minutes ago. Another zero."
"Tell him to tighten up that damn sieve!"
"It's getting tougher all the time, boss. Cops are thick as flies out there."
"I don't give a shit about the cops!" Pat Talifero yelled. 'How many places can a guy hide in this creep town? You tell those boys to — okay, send the jerk in."
"Sir?"
"The hotel jerk, let's observe the formalities, I guess."
"Yessir."
The guy faded out.
"Those guys aren't trying hard enough!" Pat fumed. "I believe they're all scared they will stumble on the guy!"
Mike shrugged and threw his cigar away. "He'll stumble over us."
"You keep saying that!"
"He will."
A suave man of about forty appeared through the doorway. "They told me I'd find you out here," he said jovially.
Pat disliked the man instantly. He despised that soft pink pampered look some of these guys had. "You found us," he said. "What do you want?"
"Just, uh, wanted to make sure you're comfortable and all."
"And all what?"
The guy's face fell. He said, "It's part of the VIP package, Mr. Talifero. I always look in on honored guests."
"All right, you looked. Thanks. Goodbye."
"I, uh…" The man took a step toward the doorway, then turned back and blurted, "Do you know the new casino boss?"
"What new casino boss?"
"Well… I was wondering… he's setting up the house."
"He who?"
"I believe the name is Vinton, a Mr. Vinton. It's the talk of the Strip, I wondered if you'd heard. He actually closed the casino."
"Closed it?"
"Yes, until midnight. They're starting the new books at midnight Until then, the drinks art on the house. And continuous entertainment. I just wondered if you knew."
"Stop wondering, Mr. Crosser," Mike said. "Goodnight, Mr. Crosser."
The guy murmured, "Goodnight," and took his leave.
The brothers stared at each other for a moment, then Mike said, "Well, that was pretty quick. I passed the word east just a few hours ago."
"They can move fast when they want to," Pat replied, shrugging "You remember when Bugsy got his."
"Sure, but that was set up," Mike said. "They had time to run someone in beforehand. But this time…"
"Maybe we should go talk to this new blood," Pat said. "He should check with us before he goes boarding up the place."