Cindy Bolan knew enough about the system to realize how bad it was. One afternoon she visited Triangle Finance to try and persuade them to leave her father alone and let her repay the loan. She was working after school. She gave them everything she made, thirty-five dollars a week. It was not enough.
One day they suggested to her a way she could really help her old man. She could make good money and pay off the debt in three or four months. The seventeen-year-old girl knew at once what they meant. They said they would have to break her father's arm the next afternoon if she did not agree to their offer.
Johnny knew all about it a week later. News like that spreads quickly. Johnny had a fight with the kid who told him, and lost. To prove the talk was wrong, Johnny followed his sister that night.
When he broke into the cheap hotel room and found Cindy naked on the bed with a man, Johnny fled crying, furious and heartbroken.
The next day he did the only thing he could think of to make her stop: he told his father.
Sam Bolan was in the kitchen reading the help-wanted ads when Johnny told him. Sam roared in fury and punched Johnny in the mouth, knocking him down.
Cindy and Elsa heard the racket and hurried into the kitchen. He confronted Cindy and finally she admitted it.
"They said it was the only way we could pay back the loan," Cindy explained over and over. "It doesn't matter about me, I didn't want them breaking your arm. The next time they might kill you!"
Elsa put a cold cloth on Johnny's bleeding lip and hugged him.
Sam yelled at them all for five minutes, then fell silent and listened more calmly to Cindy's story. When she was through, he got up and left the room without a word. A minute or two later he came back.
Sam Bolan carried an old Smith & Wesson.45 he had owned for years. He calmly shot Johnny, who crashed to the floor. Johnny remained conscious long enough to see his father fire the big slugs into his wife and daughter, shooting them again and again.
When the gun was empty, Sam stared at them. He looked at Johnny. "Sorry I busted your lip, John-O," he said calmly, then went back to his bedroom.
Johnny huddled on the floor in more pain than he ever thought possible. He figured his father was reloading the gun. Before Johnny passed out he heard one final shot, and he knew that his father was dead.
Neighbors heard the shots and called the police. Johnny was rushed to the hospital. He would live, but had to remain under care for a month. Mack Bolan had come flying home from Vietnam on an emergency leave a few days after the shooting and declared war against the Mafia.
The opening gun spoke eight days after the interment of Bolans's dead relatives. Five messengers of merciless extinction from a big-game rifle found their mark and five officials of the Triangle Finance Company lay dead in the street outside the loan company office in Pittsfield, Massachusetts.
And so had started Mack Bolan's war everlasting.
When Johnny was released from hospital he went to stay with a woman called Val Querente. She had fallen in love with Mack and, since he was on the run, he had asked her to become Johnny's legal guardian.
At first Johnny felt strange in a new school, in a new town, but worst of all he was going under a different name, Johnny Bates. Val told him it had been her mother's maiden name. She explained to him why he must use the new name from then on. The Mafia was trying to kill Mack, and if they knew where Johnny was they would grab him to lure Mack into the open. The two of them had to hide so they could help protect Mack. Johnny understood.
They had moved a lot that first year, and gradually he realized that his brother had declared war on the Mob and was blasting them wherever he found them. Slowly Johnny realized he should be proud of his brother. Mack Bolan was paying back the leeches who had drained a million poor people of their last dollar. He was also punishing the Mafia for causing the deaths of three members of the Bolan family.
Soon Val met Jack Gray and wanted to marry him. Johnny made Leo Turrin tell him where Mack was and set up a meeting with his brother. Johnny visited Mack in St. Louis and grew up a hell of a lot in one afternoon. Mack hit him with hard reality that day, and steered him toward his true future. Johnny agreed to be adopted. Val married Jack and they all went to live in Sheridan, Wyoming. Johnny had his name changed officially through adoption to John Bolan Gray and joined the Navy as soon as he graduated from Sheridan High School.
And now it looked as if the Executioner was alive and well and giving the Mob all kinds of hell. Johnny grinned. He had not felt so good in weeks. Maybe he could finally develop those ideas about how he could help the Executioner. He would think on it real hard.
He drove his VW into an off-street parking slot behind the narrow building that housed the Free Legal Aid Center. He entered and smiled at Vicki, their volunteer receptionist.
"Hi Johnny," Vicki said. "Here are a few messages." She gave him a sheaf of the pink phone-message slips and he went to his small desk against the back window. It was strictly a store-front operation: one big room with four desks, two benches and five phone lines. Everything in the room had been donated through lawyers they knew. A fund drive helped them to keep afloat.
They barely had money enough to pay their phone bill when it arrived. The rent was usually late, even after they got the rate reduced twice in two years. Electricity payments were a constant headache and there was no heat in the building.
He looked at the slip on top of the pile. Then for no apparent reason he thought of Val Querente and he put the slips on the desk, pushed his feet up on the first drawer and laced his hands behind his head.
Val Querente had been half mother, half pal to him those last three years. She was only twelve years older than he was, and he was in love with her that last year. Looking back on it he realized Val had been a good mother to him. He wondered if she knew that Mack Bolan was still alive. She confessed to him one day that she had fallen in love with Mack that first terrible week in Pittsfield when the Executioner began his Mafia payback. Mack had hidden in her house while he recovered from a gunshot wound.
But both Mack and Val knew there could be no lasting relationship, and they parted with sorrow. She had told Johnny that Mack had wanted her to marry Jack Gray and have some kind of a normal life.
Johnny still wrote letters to Val. She had written to him once a week while he was in the Navy. Now the letters came every couple of months. She had encouraged him to go to the paralegal school. His stepfather, Jack Gray, had sent him a bundle of material about how to set up a free legal aid center, and he and some friends had done it. Jack Gray sent them a hundred dollars every month for expenses.
Johnny still dreamed of being able to become a full-fledged lawyer, but that took time and money. He put his feet down and shook his head. No, he was kidding himself. If he had wanted to go to school more than anything else, he would have. He could have set up a schedule so he worked mornings, and have taken classes all afternoon and evening and finished his B. A. degree in three years. But he had not. He knew he could have borrowed the money he needed from Jack Gray, but he would not.
He loved doing the legal aid work. It was satisfying.
Johnny again studied the first slip on the pile. The time of the calls was carefully noted and he saw that the earliest call was on the bottom. He checked the phone number and dialed it.
Harry Chernin was the man's name, and he was having trouble with an insurance company not answering his letters about paying a claim. Johnny let the phone ring seven times, then hung up and called the second number in his stack of twelve. With luck he would be done by midnight.
When the second call resulted in no answer, Johnny reached into his desk and pulled out a small address book. He found Leo Turrin's number and dialed it. Should be no more than 4:45 p.m. in Washington, D. C.
He listened to the ring, then a voice came on.
"Good afternoon, this is a nonsecure line subject to federal monitoring. To whom did you wish to speak?"
"Leonard Justice."
<
br /> "One moment, please."
He heard the usual clicks and relays, knew the line was on automatic record. He had given the code name that Leo Turrin used at his desk in the Justice Department. Leo had been an undercover agent for Justice working inside the Mob. He had met Mack Bolan on the first war against the Mafia in Pittsfield. Mack discovered Leo was a Justice Department agent, and then worked with him for several years. Now Leo was out of his spot in the Mafia, where he had progressed to be a trusted underboss. He had lived longer in such jobs than anyone before and now he was riding a desk in Washington under his real name. Whatever that was.
"Yes," said Leo's voice.
"Leo, it's Johnny. I have a simple question. We've been friends a long time, and I know you'll tell me straight."
"Right, Johnny," Leo said, but Johnny caught a touch of worry in his tone.
"Is Mack alive and fighting the Mafia again?"
"Johnny, this is not a secure line…"
"Leo, the Mafia thinks he's back, they know. What could it hurt if they hear it from Justice?"
"Goddamn. You grew up too smart."
"Mack never died in New York, did he, Leo?"
"No, Johnny. That was faked. I had good reasons for telling you otherwise."
"Write me a letter about them. I want to know why you lied to me. I wanted to die, too, the day you told me."
"It was hard, Johnny. I've learned to lie well, working with the Family so long. I'm sorry."
"So Mack is alive, and he's back battling the Mafia."
"And you are still an Achilles' heel for him, Johnny. Remember what they did when they kidnapped you and Val to get at Mack? The same problem still exists."
"I've thought of that. I'm not going to make any big announcements, or change my name. I just had to know."
"Yeah, Johnny. I'm glad you know. I'll write you the whole long, involved story."
"Thanks, Leo. I forgive you. You still have some contact with him?"
"Now and then."
"Does he ask about me?"
"All the time. You know him. He cares."
"Thanks, Leo. I have some thinking to do."
They said goodbye and Johnny pushed back from the desk. The rest of the calls could wait. He left the office and drove up the hill to Presidio Park, where he sprawled out on the grass and looked out over Mission Bay and the Pacific Ocean. It was his thinking place. Everything seemed to come clear and plain and simple up here. His mind worked easier in the clean air.
Johnny stared out at the bay.
Mack was alive!
5
Johnny ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, a satisfied smile on his face. It was nine o'clock at night and he had managed to resolve most of the complaints over the phone, though there were still a few left for the next day.
Johnny was alone at the center. Two helpers, both law students, had left some hours before. He swung his leg to the floor and stood up. Quickly he strode to the front door, locked it and snapped off the lights. He went out the back way, down a few feet to the stairway and walked up to his one-room apartment.
Johnny unlocked the door and stepped inside. Soft music floated across the room, accompanied by sounds from the kitchen.
"It's me, Sandy."
The girl in the tiny cooking area looked up and smiled.
"You look tired, Tiger."
"A little." He watched her. She was six inches shorter than he, slender, pretty, a delight. He loved her long blond hair, which swept down to her waist. Her brown eyes were set above high cheekbones, completing a beautiful face.
All afternoon he had been bursting to tell someone about his news, but now he looked at Sandy and realized that he had to decide if he could entrust Mack Bolan's life to her. He would trust his own life with Sandy, she was loyal and honest and dependable. But did he have the right to risk the Executioner's safety with her?
Johnny had met Sandy Darlow at a concert. She had come with a friend of a friend. That night he got her phone number, the next day he called and they had been together ever since. They seemed like a matched set, compatible, almost the same age and both a little conservative, deliberate, understanding, and they liked the same things. Even their politics were close.
After they had been dating for two months, Sandy asked if she could move in with him. He had kissed her and they sat down on the sofa. That night they made love for the first time. He never did answer her question.
The next day when he returned home around nine-thirty at night, she was there with a steak dinner all cooked for him. She had brought everything she owned, including her sleeping bag. He never did tell her she could stay, she just did.
Yeah, he could trust her.
Now Johnny led Sandy to the shabby sofa and told her the news about Mack. She listened quietly, then shivered.
He explained to her again how important it was that she never tell anyone about Mack Bolan. She nodded and kissed him.
"If he's your brother, I would never do anything to cause him harm."
She took his hand. "Now come and have some dinner."
As they ate, he told her about his phone call to Leo Turrin in Washington.
"How soon can we meet Mack?" she asked.
"Well, he's in rather a strange business. I may not be able to contact him for a month or two."
" What kind of strange business?"
"I think it's time you told me about your world of high finance."
Sandy always derived a kind of pleasure when Johnny showed interest in her work at a local bank.
"There's a management trainee spot up for grabs," she said cheerfully. "I'm going to apply for it. If I could get into that program it would be heaven. Of course then I would have to get to work finishing my B. A. in business at San Diego State."
"I didn't know you started."
"In a weak moment. I have about a year and a half to go."
"Easy," he said.
"Sure, about as easy as becoming a lawyer."
"Maybe I'll quit here and crew on your dad's ship."
She stared at him and scowled. "You do and I'll walk out. One fisherman in the family is enough."
"How's he doing this year?"
"Fine, as long as the game fish keep coming into the area. But some years they just vanish. Nobody knows where they go and that's a big ocean out there."
"Yellowtail should be biting about now. I'd like to go out with him one of these days."
"He said any time you want to get up that early. All you have to do is help clean up on the return trip, and fillet fish for the passengers."
"Deal. I like your old man."
"He likes you too, John."
Neither of them mentioned her mother, who had died three years before. They both knew Sandy would not be living there now if her mother were alive.
"So we can't see Mack, or even make arrangements to meet him until he calls this friend of yours in the Justice Department?"
" Right. His best security is a constant state of being out of touch with everyone."
Sandy knew nothing of Johnny's family history. Johnny changed the subject again and finished his meal. They did the dishes, then stood near the counter, leaning against the sink.
"Hey, handsome hunk," Sandy murmured. "Did I ever tell you that I am crazy about you?"
Johnny grinned. But suddenly her face became serious and she wrapped her arms around him.
"Oh, Johnny, please tell me that we'll always be like this and nothing will ever happen to us."
Johnny gently framed her face with both palms. He saw the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Hey, hey, what's brought this on? Nothing is going to happen to us," he assured her. He pulled Sandy tightly against him, looking over her head at the wall, making a silent plea to the universe that what he said was true.
6
Armand Killinger heard a knock on the door, then saw Johnny stride into the room to stand at ease in front of his desk. They had worked together for just over a year now,
and the kid was the best at his job that the criminal lawyer had ever hired.
"Relax, Johnny. Have a seat. I called you in here because I've got a strange one I want you to start digging into right away. It could be a highly sensitive area. So give me a report every day."
Johnny pulled up a chair closer to his boss's desk and sat down.
"Our client blew away two loan sharks last night," Killinger said. "There is no way we can deny in court that our client pulled the trigger and killed the men. The prosecution has a dozen eyewitnesses. What we have to prove is that there was no preconceived intent, that he was suddenly overcome with a powerful urge to get even with these bloodsuckers. You with me so far?"
"Uh-huh."
"Good. That's the easy part. What I need is some way to connect this loan-sharking operation with the San Diego Mafia."
"Mafia? In San Diego?"
"Of course. But it won't be easy. If I can get the organized-crime cops behind us, I might be able to do some plea bargaining with the FBI. Instead of a first-degree murder rap we could be looking at one to two years for manslaughter.
"You'll have to dress casual. Nel will give you a list of places I want you to check out, listen to people talk, then move on. I'm looking for anything you hear about Willy the Peep and Joe Franarza. Both of these boys are honchos in the local Mafia. You can work twelve hours a day on this if you want to. We need the information, one way or the other, in two weeks."
"I'll get right on it, Mr. Killinger," Johnny said. "I never knew anything about a Mafia operation this in town."
"Most people don't hear about it. They planned it that way. They are deep into legitimate businesses here. You'd be surprised if I ran a list of names in front of you. But I want you a virgin out there. See what you can find for me."
Johnny nodded and left.
Killinger frowned as he watched Johnny walk out of the office. There was something unusual about this kid that he'd never figured out. He reminded Killinger a lot of himself when he was younger.
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