Nevada Run

by David Robbins

  “Consider it done,” Mario said.

  Don Pucci stared at Blade. “Now to business. Out of courtesy I came down to meet you. I don’t want any trouble in my casino. And I understand you believe you have a grievance against me.”

  “We came to see you because we believed you were responsible for abducting Helen’s daughter,” Blade explained. “But the man who kidnapped Mindy did not look anything like you.”

  Don Pucci folded his hands under his chin. “Why did you suspect me?”

  “Because the man gave your name,” Blade disclosed.

  The Don stiffened. “He used my name?”

  Blade absently stared at the crowd, striving to unravel the mystery of Mindy’s abduction, to piece together the parts of the puzzle. Why would someone take Mindy and claim to be Don Pucci? He noticed four men in suits and hats casually moving through the crowd in the direction of the bar. Each man was approximately 15 to 20 yards apart, as if they were trying to convey the impression of being alone. He sensed they were working in tandem, and his Warrior’s instinct sounded a siren warning in his mind.

  Don Pucci’s men had not noticed. Most of them were concentrating on the Warriors.

  Blade was cradling the Commando in his arms. He carefully slid his trigger finger through the trigger guard.

  “I want to know everything about this man,” Don Pucci was saying.

  “But not here. I would like you to come up to my quarters.”

  The four men were within ten yards of the Don’s party. Each man had a hand under his suit coat.

  Blade knew he had mere seconds to react. If he cut loose, the Don’s men would gun him down. If he did nothing, the Don would be assassinated and the Warriors would lose a potential ally in their search for Mindy.

  Before he could rationalize a course of action, the four men confirmed their hostile intent.

  Three of them pulled pistols, the fourth a sawed-off shotgun, and in unison they charged!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Don Giorgio’s suite on the third floor of his Palace was furnished much like the casino; it was tawdry and pretentious. The carpet was off-green, the walls orange and blue. All of the furniture was polished to a sheen.

  Hickok cautiously followed Kenney into the Don’s inner sanctum, the Pythons cocked, anticipating a trap. They crossed a large room containing only 14 empty chairs, evidently a waiting room for those with appointments to see the Don, or the room where the button men congregated to await the Don’s orders. The second room they encountered, a spacious office, was likewise unoccupied.

  “This is my office,” Kenney commented.

  They came to a closed wooden door and halted.

  Kenney rapped three times. “It’s me,” he announced. “He has me covered.”

  “Come in,” a gruff voice declared.

  Kenney opened the door and a Python barrel touched the back of his neck.

  “Go real slow,” Hickok advised.

  Kenney shuffled into the next room, a huge chamber with thick carpeting, several maple chairs, a sofa, and a wide desk aligned against the opposite wall.

  Hickok kept his left Colt against Kenney’s neck as he vigilantly advanced into Don Giorgio’s office.

  Three men were already there.

  Seated behind the maple desk was a man with a strikingly harsh visage.

  He had steely, hawkish brown eyes and exceptionally bushy brows. His mouth was a thin slit, his hair black and slicked. He wore a black suit. An aura of palpable menace enshrouded him.

  This, Hickok instinctively knew, was Don Giorgio.

  A youngish man in a brown suit stood to the right of the desk, his arms folded across his chest. He had green eyes and a pointed chin.

  A trigger man, Hickok guessed.

  The man standing to the left of the desk was older, with streaks of gray in his otherwise brown hair. His cheeks and chin sagged, as if his skin was too tired to support his face. His brown eyes nervously examined the Warrior. He was wearing a dark blue suit.

  Another hit man, Hickok reasoned.

  The man behind the desk extended his arms in a friendly fashion, palms outward. “There’s no need for the hardware, friend! I invited you up here to talk.”

  Hickok gave Kenney a shove.

  Kenney stumbled several feet, then caught himself and turned. “There was no need for that,” he said.

  Hickok motioned with his Colts to the left.

  Kenney took five steps to the left.

  Hickok stared at the man behind the desk. “So you want to shoot the breeze?”

  “I’m Don Giorgio,” the man stated haughtily.

  “I know who you are,” Hickok said. “But I don’t know why I should let you live.”

  “Let me live?” Giorgio repeated in surprise. “I asked you to come here as a token of my good will, and now you want to waste me?”

  Hickok pointed both Pythons at the Don.

  Giorgio, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch. But the other three tensed, the young one dropping his hands to his sides and glaring at the gunslinger.

  “I heard you aim to plug my pards and me for shootin’ your two-bit, four-flushin’ son,” Hickok stated.

  Giorgio’s face reddened and his eyes narrowed. He seemed to wrestle with his emotions for a moment, then was calm. “Franky always was a hothead. He was always getting into fights over trifles. I tried to teach him not to sweat the small stuff, but he wouldn’t listen.” Giorgio paused. “The Enforcers report his death was a fair and square. Technically, I have no right to hold his death against you.”

  “Get to the point,” Hickok prompted.

  “The point, Mister…” Giorgio began, then stopped. “What is your name, anyway?”

  “He says his name is Earp,” Kenney answered. “Wyatt Earp.”

  Giorgio’s forehead creased as he stared at the gunman. “Mr. Earp, then.

  I wanted you to know I’m forgoing my right to petition the Council for a sanction to snuff you.”

  “This must be my lucky day,” Hickok quipped. “Why?”

  “Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” Giorgio rejoined. “You should be grateful I’m not claiming my blood right.”

  “Why?” Hickok repeated his question.

  Giorgio leaned back in his chair. “It would be bad business to whack you. By tonight everyone in Las Vegas will have heard about Franky, and they’ll know his death was a fair and square. If I take action against you, I hurt my own reputation. Oh, I could call for a Council of the Dons and ask for a sanction to hit you. Every Don can ask for a Council whenever a grievance arises. I could present my case and demand a vote, and if the other Dons agreed and Don Pucci okayed the decision, you would be dead by morning. But word would get around. People would whisper behind my back. They would say I’d done wrong because Franky’s death was a fair and square. Do you follow me?”

  “So you won’t kill me because it would be bad for your reputation and your business?” Hickok queried critically.

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” Don Giorgio said.

  Hickok snickered. “So much for family devotion.”

  “What do you say?” Giorgio asked. “Do we shake hands and call it quits?”

  “Not so fast,” Hickok said. “What about the runt downstairs?”

  “I didn’t tell him to try and gun you down,” Giorgio replied. “He did that on his own. I don’t like gunplay in my casino. It affects the trade.”

  “Then I’m free to go?” Hickok inquired.

  Giorgio nodded. “And I want you to know there’s no hard feelings. In fact, I’d like you to spend time in my casino as my personal guest. All the chips and eats will be on me. What do you say?”

  Hickok twirled the Colts into their holsters. “How can I refuse an offer like that?”

  “Kenney will take you downstairs,” Giorgio said. “He’ll provide you with everything you need.”

  “Thanks,” Hickok stated. He backed toward the door.

  “Can you wait fo
r me in the hallway?” Kenney asked the gunman. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “No problem,” Hickok responded. He hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt and strolled out.

  Kenney moved to the door and watched until the gunfighter had passed through his office, the waiting room, and closed the hall door behind him.

  He faced the Don. “Before I take that clown downstairs, I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, boss,” Sacks chimed in. “I don’t get none of this. How come you’re letting that scumbag live after he snuffed Franky?”

  Giorgio gazed at Kenney. “I want you to treat him to a good time. You know who he is, don’t you?”

  Kenny nodded. “I figured it out. He’s one of those Warriors. Hickok, right?”

  “Right,” Giorgio verified. “Which means the Warriors are already in Vegas. Give him anything he wants. Find Nadine. Tell her to hit on him. I want him to spend the night. If he leaves the Palace, I’m to be informed immediately. Understand?”

  “Got you,” Kenney answered. He wheeled and departed.

  Sacks shook his head, clearly bemused. “I don’t get none of this, boss.”

  “I hate to admit it,” Ozzi chimed in, “but neither do I.”

  “Then I’ll have to explain it to you,” Giorgio said. “I don’t want my lieutenants in the dark, so I’ll spell everything out.” He paused and stared at Ozzi. “Do you remember about a year ago, when that drifter lost a couple of grand at poker and couldn’t pay up?”

  “Sure I do,” Ozzi said. “You were going to have me break his legs.”

  “That was the one,” Giorgio confirmed. “He tried to trade information in exchange for canceling his debt. He claimed he knew about a Federation which might pose a threat to the Dons. He said this Freedom Federation, as it’s called, planned to consolidate their forces and conquer the western half of what was once the United States. He told me all about this Federation, about the different factions in it. I found his information very, very interesting, and I later verified most of it. There is a Freedom Federation, and they do have a protective association, of sorts. But they’re no threat to the Dons.”

  “Do the other Dons know about this Federation?” Ozzi queried.

  “I don’t know,” Giorgio replied. “I don’t think so. This Federation has kept pretty much to itself, all except for one faction. They’re known as the Family.”

  Sacks grinned and slapped his right thigh. “They’re the ones in Minnesota! The ones who live at the Home!”

  “Give the man a cigar!” Giorgio cracked. “Yeah. The very same. I discovered they have a heavy rep, especially their fighters, the Warriors.

  These Warriors have taken on the Ruskies, the Technics, even the Doktor, and they came out on top every time. The more I learned about these Warriors, the more convinced I became that they were the ones to help me snuff Pucci.”

  “Now you lost me,” Sacks said.

  “I’m not surprised,” Giorgio stated dryly. “Anyway, I sent out feelers to all my sources. I learned all I could about the Warriors. I even found out some of their names: Blade, Hickok, Geronimo, Yama, Rikki, and Bertha.

  And I discovered a pattern.”

  “What kind of pattern?” Ozzi questioned.

  Giorgio smiled. “Simply this. Every time the Home was attacked, or any time Family members were whacked, or kidnapped, or even just injured, the Warriors went after the party responsible. No matter what the odds, no matter how badly they were outnumbered or outgunned, the Warriors always made the offenders pay. They always exacted retribution,” he said with sincere admiration.

  “They sound like us,” Sacks commented.

  Giorgio snorted. “They are nothing like us. Their Family and our Families are as different as night and day. They believe in a lot of spiritual garbage, and they don’t know the value of power and money. But the Warriors are as deadly a bunch of professionals as you’d ever want to meet. They’re tops.”

  “You sound like you respect them,” Ozzie remarked.

  “I do,” Giorgio responded. “Don’t ever underestimate them.”

  “Even the bozo in the buckskins?” Ozzi asked.

  “Especially him,” Giorgio answered. “He may come across as a dummy, but I hear it’s all an act. Hickok is one of the deadliest Warriors.”

  “He’s a fast son of a bitch,” Sacks mentioned. “Did you see him on the monitor when he shot Dirkson?”

  “I saw him,” Ozzi said.

  “If you two are finished flapping your gums,” Giorgio declared, “I’d like to continue.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Sacks said.

  “You didn’t tell us all this before you took us to Minnesota,” Ozzi noted.

  “You didn’t tell us a thing until we were on the road, and then all you said was that we were going to make an important snatch, and that our Family would be taking over Vegas. You kept saying the snatch was important, but you never told us the reason. How come you’re coming clean now?”

  “Necessity,” Giorgio responded. “I didn’t tell anyone about my plans to go to Minnesota except for Kenney because I didn’t want a leak. I didn’t want Pucci to find out what I was up to. And I had to tell Kenney because I left him in charge of my operations while I was gone.” He paused. “Now, everything has changed. My plan isn’t working the way I thought it would.

  We could be in for some rough weather, and I want my top men aware of the situation.”

  “Gee, boss,” Sacks interjected. “Thanks for the compliment.”

  Giorgio sighed. “Anyway, I devised a scheme to use the Warriors to whack Pucci. I figured I could snatch one of the Family, pin the blame on Pucci, and the Warriors would take care of the rest. Considering their heavy rep, I knew they’d come after whoever we kidnapped. I expected them to come to Vegas, look up Pucci, and that would be that.” He grinned at the deviousness of his plot.

  “That would be what, boss?” Sacks wanted to know.

  “The Warriors would take care of Pucci for me,” Giorgio replied impatiently. “I’ve tried three times in the past eight years to whack that bastard, and each time I failed. The last attempt put him in a wheelchair for life, but I want him dead! I should be the top Don in Vegas, not that old prick! He doesn’t deserve to rule Vegas! He’s old, he’s past his prime, and he should be put out to pasture. And I’m the man who’s going to do it!”

  “What about the Warriors?” Ozzi queried. “You said your plan isn’t working.”

  “Hickok is here, so some of the other Warriors must be here too. But I haven’t heard anything about them making a hit on Pucci. Instead, I hear about these four strangers responsible for killing Franky. I got descriptions of the four, but I didn’t put two and two together until Hickok came into the Palace,” Giorgio said. “When I saw him on the monitor, I remembered the description I was given on the Warriors. Blade is supposed to be a big guy who always packs Bowies. Hickok wear buckskins and pearl-handled Colts. And one of the guys who whacked Franky’s crew was a giant with knives. Then a man in buckskins shows up in my joint and uses a phony name. That clinched it!”

  “He used a phony name?” Sacks interrupted.

  “Wyatt Earp, remember?” Giorgio reminded him.

  “Oh. Yeah. How’d you know it was phony?” Sacks inquired.

  Giorgio shook his head in disgust. “Because I went to school, dummy. Wyatt Earp was one of the guys we studied in history class. He was sort of an ancient wiseguy.”

  “Do you think the Warriors know you set them up to kill Pucci?” Ozzi asked. “Do you think they hit Franky on purpose?”

  “No,” Giorgio said. “The Enforcers and the witnesses swear Franky started it. Franky goaded them into the fight. The jackass! He was an insult to my lineage!”

  “But he was your only son!” Sacks stated.

  “Don’t remind me!” Giorgio snapped. “I should have spent more time with him when he was a kid. He was a spoiled brat, and he didn’t know what it meant to be a made man. If he’d pla
yed his cards right, he could have inherited my empire. Once I take out Pucci, I’ll go after the other Dons. Everyone says the Seven Families War eighty years ago was bloody and horrible, but they haven’t seen a thing yet! By the time I’m through, the Seven Families War will seem like a picnic!”

  “Why haven’t the Warriors snuffed Pucci yet?” Ozzi asked.

  “I don’t know,” Giorgio admitted. “But I’m not sitting on my ass waiting for them to hit the prick! I’ve hired a hit squad of independents to take care of Pucci if he shows his face in the casino.”

  “What about Hickok? Why is he here?” Ozzi probed.

  Giorgio pondered for a moment. “He came to see if I wanted revenge for Franky.”

  “And do you?” Ozzi questioned.

  Giorgio’s mouth twisted downward. “Of course! Franky was a moron, but he was blood. I’ll keep tabs on Hickok, try to find out where the rest of the Warriors are, and if they’ve outlived their usefulness to me, I’ll have them whacked.”

  “Gee, boss,” Sacks said. “You think of everything. If the Warriors whack Don Pucci, no one will think to blame you. You can take over Vegas without the other Dons ganging up on you.”

  “I’ll do it one way or the other,” Giorgio vowed. “Pucci’s Family isn’t as strong as it was eighty years ago. If the Warriors waste him, the other Dons will easily come under my thumb. But even if the Warriors blow it, Pucci is going down. I will be the top Don by the end of the year.”

  Ozzi straightened attentively. “With your indulgence, there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Giorgio smirked. “As if I couldn’t guess.”

  “I respectfully ask your permission,” Ozzi said.

  “I knew this was coming,” Giorgio commented. “I saw the way you were looking at her all the way back from Minnesota. And I saw you threaten to rack Nicky if he laid his hands on her.”

  “Will you consent?” Ozzi asked.

  “Why do you want her? She’s an outsider,” Giorgio remarked. “Why not pick one of the local girls? You could have the cream of the crop. You’re a made man. A big wheel in my organization.”