"The point is, Bolan, he can't even offer you a prayer now. The heat is on and all pots are boiHng. Brognola says it's go for broke aow, get Bolan. Forget personal feelings and past debts, just get Bolan."
"Is that what you're doing in Vegas?" the Executioner calmly inquired.
"Well no. I'm on something entirely different. But.. • Brognola said…"
Bolan crushed out his cigarette and said, "Yeah?"
Lyons coughed and clutched at his belly, then said, "The feds are springing with the Taliferos."
"What's that mean?"
"They figure the mob's Bolan watch is better than theirs, and they're keying on the Talifero brothers, constant surveillance, phone taps, the whole bit. So when the world rolls over on you, Bolan, your nation's government will be right there stomping the mutilated carcass."
The man in black shrugged his shoulders and absently reached for another cigarette. "I've not been expecting exactly the medal of honor," he said quietly.
"Well… you watch it. When the national enforcers hit the scene, the feds will be right behind them — or amongst them. I wanted you to know that. Also, I…"
Bolan lit his cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. "Also what?"
"Brognola said something else. This, uh, is pretty rotten, Mack. He said — if our paths should cross — I should tell you thanks for past favors. And then I should gun you down."
Bolan's eyes flicked to his passenger. "You've got the weapon," he observed coldly.
"What weapon?" The Colt slipped into the seat between Bolan's legs. "He said it would be the kindest thing we could do for you. He says you're a dead man, looking for a place to rest in peace. I don't believe that, Bolan."
"Thanks."
"I believe you're the livingest son of a bitch I've ever seen. And that's what I want you to know… not just because you saved my life back there… but because I couldn't have much faith in a world that couldn't make room for a Mack Bolan. Okay?"
"Okay," Bolan replied, tight-lipped. "I uh… thanks, Lyons."
"Sure," Lyons said solemnly. No thanks were necessary, Lyons knew that. And Bolan knew it.
But that familiar tight feeling in the Executioner's chest was beginning to dissolve, and Bolan understood that also. The soul was still intact, and it could still respond to a simple act of human friendship.
"Thanks," Bolan said again.
"I said sure."
Bolan chuckled and returned the Colt to his friend the cop. "These, uh, feds. They're after blood too, eh?"
Lyons sighed. "Unofficially, I understand, the order is to shoot on sight."
Bolan frowned at his cigarette and put it out. "The mad-dog treatment, eh?"
"That's it," Lyons replied quickly. "And they'll consider it an act of mercy, if they can get to you first. The Taliferos, my friend, have some hideous programs in mind for you. Need I, uh, say more?"
No, the shadow from the Executioner's other lives needed to say no more. Bolan knew very well what to expect if he should be captured alive by the "brotherhood of blood." And the city of chance lay just ahead. This would be as good a place as any to face that wriggling finger of fate which Bolan felt crawling through his bloodstream.
The time had come to live again… to stride boldly through the valley of death. San Francisco could and would keep. Las Vegas was ready and waiting.
And let all souls beware… even the Executioner's own.
Chapter Four
The red carpet
"Here's what you do, Joe," instructed the crisp voice on the long distance telephone hookup. "First of all, you take every measure to see that our VIP enjoys his stay in your town That means you attend to every detail. Airlines, buses, trains, private flying outfits car rental agencies cabs — anything that moves that he may wish to use, you see to it that he gets firsr clasi service. And don't forget to pass the word around to any place within fifty miles that may offer him accomodations and I mean all the hotels, motels, casinos, clubs, bars, cafes, service stations, everything. Don't let one stone go unturned if it could possibly be used for his comfort. Is it clear?"
"Yes sir, that's pretty clear," Joe Stanno assured his boss. "And please tell the commissioners that I'm sure sorry about that lip-up. I mean, sometimes you take every precaution, you know, to extend the proper hospitality, and still a person manages to pop in unexpectedly. We, uh, just didn't have a chance to get a reception -eady, that's all."
. "Forget the spilt milk, Joe. Just fee to it now that our VIP remains comfortable until the official delegation gets there. You attend to all those little details, eh?"
"Yes sir, I'll see to them personally."
"Right. And avoid direct contact if it's at all possible. Let's not take any chances on another slip-up. Just keep him comfortable until we arrive."
"Don't worry," Stanno replied, "he'll be comfortable."
"Fine. Now, I'm sending you some help, so all the highways heading out of that town will be thick with personnel. Any lirection he may think of taking out of there in a private car, he'll still get the same warm hospitality. So just worry about your own immediate area, we're taking care of the rest. You have enough local personnel to cover everything, right?"
"Yes sir. I'm tapping into the freelancers just to make sure. Don't worry, there's no place he can touch down in Vegas that he won't be well met."
"Fine, Joe," the national enforcer said warmly. "We're depending on you to handle things until we can get there. One of the commissioners is wondering about that finance team that's visiting you. He wants to know if the project is stymied for sure."
"For the time being, yeah," Stanno said, his voice dropping a pitch. "Our VIP took the deal over clean. I'm sorry I..."
"Don't be sorry, Joe, just be efficient. I'm sure we can persuade your VIP to return the matter to our hands. It would be a shame if we couldn't, though. This commissioner tells me the thing was cleared all the way. It's going to be, uh, embarrassing to have to back out now."
"Well what's the most important? The deal or the guy? I mean the VIP. What should I be..."
"It's one and the same, isn't it, Joe? Make the guy comfortable, we'll get the deal back. Right? Lose the . guy and you lose the deal. Right?"
"Yes sir, I guess that's right," Stanno muttered. "Okay. I'm keeping that finance team right close by — I mean standing by… you know. If we can turn things back our way again, then we'll be all ready to go as if nothing had ever happened. Right?"
"Right, Joe," Talifero purred. "And this commissioner here says somebody had better hope so. He says a quarter-mil is a lot of deal. I think he's right, Joe."
"Don't worry, so do I," Stanno quietly agreed. "Okay. How long before I can expect you?"
"They're getting the plane ready now. Say, uh, about four hours."
"Great. I'll try to have the thing in good shape by the time you get here."
"Now dammit, Joe, I didn't tell you to get things in shape by the time I get there. Now did I?"
"No sir," Joe the Monster growled.
"I told you to see to our VIP's comfort. Now that's all, Joe. I told you to avoid direct contact. Right?"
"Right, Mr. Tal — yes sir, I understand that."
"Don't get your tail in the air over this busted deal. The big thing is the man himself. Tell me you understand that, Joe."
"I understand that, sir," Stanno meekly replied.
A click from the eastern end signaled the close of the conversation. Stanno quietly hung up, his face a mask of cold fury as he turned to his companions.