San Diego Siege Part 8

"About what?" what?" Tony Danger growled, working hard to control his emotions. Tony Danger growled, working hard to control his emotions.

"He said he was supposed to make the buy at the Pepe. Pepe. He said there was trouble, and He said there was trouble, and he he was going instead of was going instead of you. you. He said-" He said-"

"f.u.c.k what he what he said!" said!" Tony Danger yelled. "What did he Tony Danger yelled. "What did he do?" do?"

Tarantini took a retreating half-step in the face of that rage and choked out: "h.e.l.l I thought you knew. I thought it was cleared through you. The Frenchman tried to pa.s.s some bad stuff. Mr. Lam-bretta drilled him and dumped the junk."

"He did what?" what?" Tony Danger screamed. Tony Danger screamed.

Turtle Tarantini looked about ready to run. Instead he thrust forward a heavy manila envelope, pushing it towards his boss. "I guess it's all in here," he said weakly. "He said give this to you."

Tony Danger accepted the "report" but his eyes remained hot and unbelieving on his skipper. "Where is this guy right now?" he wanted to know.

"He had us drop him on the other side. Said his car was over there."

"When?"

"Five, maybe ten minutes ago."

Tony Danger did not wish to open that envelope.

He knew, he thought, what was in there.

He muttered, "He dumped the stuff?"

"Yessir. It was trash. He paid the Pepe Pepe for their run, but he put a bullet right between the Frenchman's eyes. Mr. Danger, that guy knew what he was doing. Believe me." for their run, but he put a bullet right between the Frenchman's eyes. Mr. Danger, that guy knew what he was doing. Believe me."

"Fifty kilos," Tony Danger muttered. "A million bucks on the streets. He dumped dumped it?" it?"

"I told you, it was trash. trash. I thought you knew all about that. I thought...." I thought you knew all about that. I thought...."

"You think too much, Turtle," Tony Danger told his uncomfortable skipper. He was opening the envelope-slowly, delicately. "You're gonna fool around and think yourself into an early grave. You think think about about that." that."

Turtle Tarantini's eyes clearly did not understand his boss's reaction to the superb job Frankie Lambretta had done for him.

"Too many people give orders around here," he muttered defensively.

Tony Danger did not hear the remark. He was staring into the brown manila envelope. He dug a finger into a small sample of white powder in there and touched it to his tongue. "Trash, eh?" he commented miserably. Then he withdrew the little iron cross with a bull's-eye in its center and showed it to his skipper. "That's your Frankie Lambretta," he said in a flat voice.

"I don't believe it," Tarantini whispered. "You'd better," Tony Danger quietly told him. "You'd d.a.m.n sure better believe it."

He turned away to conceal the quivering of his lips and quickly descended the ladder to the main deck.

d.a.m.n right.

Everybody had better start believing it.

h.e.l.l had finally come to San Diego.

Bolan established a radio contact with Gadgets Schwarz to set up a rendezvous where he could screen the intelligence from the telephone tap on the Winters residence, but Blanca.n.a.les broke into the conversation with an urgent report of his own.

"Been hoping you'd check in pretty quick," the Politician told his C.O. "All h.e.l.l is breaking around here. My subject has had people coming and going ever since I reached station. It smells of a build-up and I want you to look at some pictures I took with the Polaroid."

Bolan had a vast respect for the judgement of the combat-intelligence expert. His decision was quick and positive. "Change the game plan," he replied. "Remain on station and cover Gadgets for his intel run. Gadgets, start your drain operation in exactly ten minutes. Pol, follow him out. Ill be covering from Station Charlie. Regroup with all caution at Point Alpha."

It was beginning to size up as a rather short siege.

The enemy, it seemed, was already gearing for the break-out.

The emergency conference had been shaping up for better than an hour. The key men from Mexico had arrived and the boys from the California desert interior were expected at any moment. Additionally, a four-point telephone conference was being set up on scrambler circuits with New York, Phoenix, and Los Angeles.

Ben Lucasi was not letting any Bolan dust settle on him. him. Maybe the other bosses around the country were reluctant to yell for help when the b.a.s.t.a.r.d came crashing in on them-not Big Ben Lucasi. He had been accorded the "Big" tag not by virtue of his physical dimensions but by the size of his ambitions and ideas. Maybe the other bosses around the country were reluctant to yell for help when the b.a.s.t.a.r.d came crashing in on them-not Big Ben Lucasi. He had been accorded the "Big" tag not by virtue of his physical dimensions but by the size of his ambitions and ideas.

And Big Ben Lucasi did not take this this brand of c.r.a.p from anybody. brand of c.r.a.p from anybody.

When the telephone sounded off, he'd thought it to be the scrambler conference coming through ... but it was only Tony Danger.

"What th' h.e.l.l, hang up," Lucasi ordered. "I'm expecting the national wire."

"Here's something maybe you weren't expecting," his lieutenant advised him. 'That G.o.ddam Bolan came out here and conned my boat crew into taking him out to sea. He hit our French connection, b.u.mped the guy, scattered the shipment on the high seas. Whattaya think of that, Ben? A million f.u.c.kin' bucks giving the fishes a thrill."

"Th' rotten b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Lucasi muttered angrily. "What the h.e.l.l d'you think he's pulling this c.r.a.p for?"

"Well, he's not just tweaking our noses," Tony Danger a.s.sured the boss. "Bet your a.s.s, he's got something very serious on his mind."

"Awright, you get it on over here!" Lucasi demanded. "We're about ready to go to council. Listen, Tony, we're going to put an end to this bulls.h.i.t here and now. You say he killed Beloit?"

"Yeah. And there went four hard months of sweat and tears. I tell you, Ben, this stuff is getting hard to come by. We just can't afford to lose good brokers this way."

"I know, I know," Lucasi replied, commiserating with his favorite lieutenant. "Well look, get it on back here. We'll take care of Mr. Smart-a.s.s for good and all."

"Be there in ten minutes," Tony Danger promised, and hung up.

The delegates to the convention were all in the game room, quietly consoling their ruffled nerves with the best booze from the Lucasi liquor closet. He told his house captain, the Diver, "I'll be in there with the boys. That call comes through, you send it right in on the squawk box."

"I just come in to tell you," Diver said, "that something funny is going on outside."

"What d'you mean, funny?"

"If you got just a second, I'd like to show you."

Lucasi followed his chief bodyguard to the patio, his guts shivering just a little under this new "funny" business.

The big guy was pointing up the street. "See that bread truck up there ... up inna next block?"

Lucasi growled, "Yeah. So what?"

"So it's been in this neighborhood for the past two hours."

"Is the guy making deliveries?"

"Seems to be. But, h.e.l.l, how long can a guy spend in one neighborhood?"

"Depends," Lucasi replied, with a stab at humor, "on how many stud-hungry housewives he's servicing, I guess. Is that what you brought me out here for?"

"That's not all." The Diver swiveled about to sight along his outstretched arm in the opposite direction. "See that up there?"

"I see a little green truck," the boss replied, with some irritation. "So what?"

"So I seen the same d.a.m.n truck over on the next street earlier this morning. Right after we got hit."

Lucasi was attempting to appear unruffled. He drawled, "All right, I never accused you of bad instincts, Diver. What d'you think is so funny about this?"

"I think maybe we're being watched."

"Oh?" Lucasi thrust a cigar between his teeth and chewed on it for a few seconds, then said, "There was sure something funny about that hit here this morning. You thinking that, too?"

The Diver soberly nodded his head. "It just isn't like Bolan."

"He hit the Pepe Pepe awhile ago," Lucasi confided, awhile ago," Lucasi confided, sotto voce. sotto voce. "b.u.mped Beloit and dumped our shipment in the ocean." "b.u.mped Beloit and dumped our shipment in the ocean."

"Sounds like he's getting smarts somewheres," Diver muttered. His eyes were roaming the exterior of the house. "He could've b.u.mped you, you, Mr. Lucasi, as easy as anything. I keep wondering why he didn't." Mr. Lucasi, as easy as anything. I keep wondering why he didn't."

"I guess maybe he just wasn't ready to," Lucasi replied in a strained voice. The tension was wearing through again. He loudly cleared his throat and added, "I guess he had something else on his mind." Lucasi was following the scan of his house captain's gaze. The hairs rose along the back of his neck. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he growled.

"Well, we know he's not working alone this time," Diver quietly replied. His arm rose and he pointed toward a second-floor window. "Do you see something up there? On that ledge there, by the window?"

Lucasi's blood almost stopped flowing. "Shake this f.u.c.kin' place down," he commanded, almost choking with the effort at speech. "I mean good good and and fast!" fast!"

The house captain took off on a run, loudly calling his boys together as he went.

Lucasi hurried after him, tremblingly intent upon clearing that open area with all speed.

"Suckered!" he muttered to himself. "Sonuva-b.i.t.c.h!"

For d.a.m.n sure. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had suckered him with the oldest trick in the books.

But maybe it wasn't too late to pull the fat out of the fire. Maybe, by G.o.d, Mr. Smart-a.s.s would find his own fat searing in the flames this time.

"Those trucks!" he screamed. "Get out there and grab them trucks!"

10:

POINT BLANK.

Bolan was watching from a high point of ground which was several blocks removed from the Lucasi home, following the play there with powerful binoculars.

He had been on station and waiting when Schwarz began his intelligence run in the war-wagon, had watched him pull up to within fifty yards of the target and dismount, open the hood over the engine, step inside the van.

He saw Blanca.n.a.les, also, another hundred yards or so downrange, inching along in the bread truck.

Bolan spoke into his shoulder-phone to advise, "Pol, the ears are out."

"Roger, I have him in sight," came the instant reply. "How's it look from station Charlie?"

"Peaceful," Bolan said, then: "Whup! Couple just came out the side door. It's ... Lucasi. And the big houseman. Something has their interest."

The focal field of the binoculars covered only the two men and several feet of turf to either side of them.

"I believe they're looking at you, you, Pol. And ... Gadgets! Are you in?" Pol. And ... Gadgets! Are you in?"

"I'm here," came a strained reply.

"They've spotted both of you, and I'd say are jumping to conclusions. I can feel their little minds a'whirring. Yep. Yep."

Lucasi's weasel face was sharply etched in the focal field, wondering, worrying, discovering ... discovering ...

Bolan commanded, "Break off! They're wise. Break now!" now!"

Schwarz protested, "I only drained two banks."

"Got the phone tap?"

"Getting it now."

"Stay with it," Blanca.n.a.les urged. "I'm covering."

Bolan concurred, though with misgivings. Numbers were all-important in this sort of game. He snapped, "Thirty seconds more, then you haul it I Pol, start your move!"

"Rolling," came the response from Blanca.n.a.les.

Bolan released the binoculars and reached for his power sniper, the Weatherby Mark V. Using .460 Magnum soft-nose mini-bombs, the big piece gave him better than a thousand yards of kill- much more than he would need for this mission. He fitted his eye to the scope and began reading ranges.

Yeah ... this mission would be just about point-blank.

The Diver sent three of his boys out to intercept the bread truck and another two to check-out the green van, then he sent the remaining palace guard scurrying through the house searching for bugs.

Ben Lucasi ran into the game room to caution everyone there to "keep quiet, stop talking, not a f.u.c.king word!"-then he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a double-barrel shotgun and dashed toward the upstairs window where he'd spotted the suspicious-looking package.

He arrived there just in time to see the bread truck picking up speed for a run past the house.