Bolan said, “It’s a quick world, April.”
“You bet it is. Well, then—look—I had to lean on my badge.”
“Small towns work in both directions,” he quietly told her.
“I know that. But I had to get into that computer and find the program. They were very helpful. Don’t worry. I covered it with a good story. And I got what we need. Or I guess you need it. Do you?”
“I’m working straight from the gut. Sure I need it.”
“Okay.” She made a teasing face. “But first I want to know how your gut sent you in this direction.”
He shrugged. “I really couldn’t tell you that. I was looking at the sector display. My gut lurched west. Then you came back with your eyes rolling westward.”
“Aw. They were not.”
He chuckled. “They sure weren’t saying Columbus.”
She said, “You’re scary—know that? Okay, slow down. I believe we turn left at this next—yes, that’s the road. Go south.”
Bolan turned the warwagon south. Soon thereafter they were rolling past a rather immodest stone structure set high on a hill overlooking the surrounding countryside. A gravelled drive peeled away from the blacktop road at a very small angle, then climbed the hill in a series of switchbacks.
Said the lady, “I’ll bet that’s the place. How does the old gut feel about it?”
He asked, “Is this as far as the head can move us?”
She replied, “I’m afraid so. We’re certainly in the general area. But I’d have to get out and read some line codes to—”
“Never mind.” Bolan halted the vehicle and backed along the road. “We’ll just drive up and ask them.”
“Are you serious?”
He was. He angled onto the gravel drive and climbed the hill to the house. Almost to the house. The hilltop was larger and flatter than it had appeared from the roadway. Several smaller buildings could now be seen clustered about the main structure. The whole thing was densely wooded but there were no walls or fences in evidence. Only a chain, supported by waist-high metal gateposts, blocked vehicular entrance to the compound. “No Trespassing” signs were posted and a small turnaround had been provided.
Bolan pulled into the turnaround as he asked the lady, “What name is R.B. Smith using here?”
“Roger G. Tucker. That’s pretty close to—uh oh!”
A guy wearing a bright orange hunting vest and toting a double-barreled shotgun had suddenly appeared at the chain barrier. Bolan donned dark glasses, growled, “Stay put,” to the girl, and made a quick exit.
He called an amiable greeting to the guy at the chain and strolled over for a parley.
“Who’d you want?” the sentry inquired, not at all amiable.
“I’m looking for Gene Harney,” Bolan lied.
“Wrong place,” the guy growled.
“Do you know Gene? He lives somewhere in this—”
“Never heard of him. You’re trespassing. Get lost.”
Bolan said, “Hey—I asked a civil question.”
“You got a civil answer, bub.” The shotgun came up. “Beat it.”
Bolan quietly retreated to the motorhome. He told the girl, “Bingo,” and put that place behind them.
“Tucker is Tuscanotte?” she asked nervously.
“I couldn’t swear to it,” Bolan replied. “But I was just jawing with Skids Mangone. And he’s a long way from home.”
“Who is Mangone?”
“Used to break legs in Chicago for Joliet Jake Vecci.”
“Well who is Vecci?”
“Vecci is no more,” Bolan explained. “But he was the Lord of the Loop for many years—in Chicago, you know. And he was an uncle by marriage to Carmine Tuseanotte.”
“I’d call that pretty conclusive,” she said.
“So would I,” Bolan agreed.
The lady’s eyes were fairly dancing. “So what do we do now?”
Bolan had no need to ask himself that question.
Indeed, there was no question.
He knew precisely what had to be done.
Buy Monday’s Mob Now!
About the Author
Don Pendleton (1927–1995) was born in Little Rock, Arkansas. He served in the US Navy during World War II and the Korean War. His first short story was published in 1957, but it was not until 1967, at the age of forty, that he left his career as an aerospace engineer and turned to writing full time. After producing a number of science fiction and mystery novels, in 1969 Pendleton launched his first book in the Executioner saga: War Against the Mafia. The series, starring Vietnam veteran Mack Bolan, was so successful that it inspired a new American literary genre, and Pendleton became known as the father of action-adventure.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author᾿s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1978 by Don Pendleton
Cover design by Mauricio Diaz
ISBN: 978-1-4976-8584-0
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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