hours of what?'
'Life,' Bolan said quietly.
'Come on.'
'Seriously. And I can't guarantee even that much. It all depends on Paul.'
It was a forced laugh that came across that connection. 'Good try, soldier. Whatever you're trying.'
'Any victory for them is a loss for me,' Bolan said soberly. 'I'd throw in with the devil if they were storming hell.'
The guy's interest was aroused, despite the natural caution. 'I'll listen. Say what you're saying.'
'I have the whole state wired. I even have you wired, soldier. And I challenge you to find the-'
Hinshaw broke in to unload a disturbance of his own mind. 'Yeah, tell me about that, pole climber. How'd you engineer that hit?'
'You found the hardware.'
'Sure. And what about Tucson?'
'I was there,' Bolan admitted.
'What kind of explosives did you hit me with? Angel swears you were under surveillance the whole time. What'd you use?'
It was shop talk between a couple of professionals. Bolan replied, 'Something I whipped up in my lab. Time delayed. How'd it go?'
'Just like Ex-Lax, smooth as silk. Did you design that box for the fifty?'
'Something else I cooked up in my lab, yeah. She didn't jam up, eh?'
'Not hardly. It's a beautiful effect. I'm taking It with me when I break camp here. It'll come in handy somewhere, some day. You wired me, too, huh? We searched, man. Where is it?'
'About two miles downline. Climb a pole where the barrel cactus stands. You'll find it. Keep it, it's a gift — to remember me by. If you're able to remember.'
'You were saying? About wires on the state?'
'Yeah. I have very sophisticated stuff. You'd love it. Straight out of the space age. Hear-all, know-all — you know what I mean. They're setting you up, soldier. I could have guessed it, even without the ears. It's SOP with these people. Contract a dirty job, see. That's a security layer. Then contract the contractor. That's another layer. The point is, it was never intended that you get the chance to enjoy that 200 per day plus.'
The returning voice was sober, wary. 'You're giving me this just for old-time's sake, eh?'
'The past is the past,' Bolan said. 'You did your thing and I did mine. Anyway, it was long ago and far away. This is here and now. Far as I'm concerned, you are a fellow grunt getting another shaft. Take it or don't, makes no difference to me. But I hate to see those bastards get away with it.'
'You'd hate that, eh?'
'I'd hate it, yeah. Watch your flanks, soldier.'
Bolan put the phone down and made another imaginary mark in the air, then changed his mind and erased half of it.
The game was winding down, yeah. And Bolan was down for doubles.
Chapter 18
Pawns out
Abraham Weiss loved the sunlight. Others may take comfort in the moderate Arizona winters, but Weiss preferred the burning heat of summer because it also meant more hours of daylight in each twenty-four.
Not that he was afraid of the dark.
He would not admit that even to himself. He Just Preferred the sunlight. One reason he hated Washington was the damn short days — especially in winter. God, how he hated Washington in the winter!
But he definitely had mixed feelings about these desert sunsets. SO beautiful to behold, sure, but sort of like dying, also. Even knowing that the sun also rises, there was something very sad and tragic in a sunset.
Like a man's life, slowly waning, waning, waning then snuff! — gone — blackness — nothingness. He shivered and stepped away from the window. Another hour of daylight. So where the hell was Moe! And where the hell was all this police protection he'd been promised! Leave a man hanging out here like the final damn grape on the vine, just waiting for someone to come along and Snuff!
That kind of thinking would get him nowhere!
He crossed to the desk, opened the secret panel, reversed the tape on the recorder, and played back that ridiculous telephone conversation with his lifelong buddy, Moe Kaufman. Some buddy.
'Goddammit, Abe, sometimes I think you're getting senile! You can't pay any attention to a guy like that! He's just trying to get us scratching at each other's eyes.'
'Did he talk to you or didn't he?'
'Yes, dammit, he talked to me. Walked right into the police station, and we sat in an empty office and talked for about five minutes.'
'Go get fucked, you miserable ... I'm not that senile! Why are you holding out on me?'
'Listen, I'm coming out there. Personally. I'm bringing you some new comfort. Now just sit tight and wait till I get there.'
'I can pick up this phone and place one call, one call. I could call Cronkite. Hell, I could call the White House if I wanted to. If you're playing cute games with me!'
'For God's sake, Abe. Get ahold. Can't you see what you're doing?'
'It will be getting dark soon, Moe. I don't want to be here alone when it gets dark.'
'Buck up. I'm on my way.'
'Come alone!'
'Are you crazy? Why should I come alone? I'm bringing comfort, dammit!'
'I won't be here, Moe. I swear. I'm leaving.'
'Don't you dare leave that house! It's the only protection you've got for now. Do you want me to send a police car screaming to the rescue? Is that what you want?'
'I don't know. Maybe so. Yeah. I want them In uniform. I want a whole goddamn platoon of uniformed cops.'
'You know better. We're trying to quiet this, not put it on the evening news. We can't afford that kind of-'
'We can't afford it?! That's rich, that's really rich.'
'Put a gun in your hand, dammit, and sit tight. I'll be there.'
Sure. He'd be here. When? In time for the second coming? The Senator stared at the desk clock. Was It stopped? Could a clock move that slowly and still be working properly?
Ridiculous! Such a ridiculous and demeaning conversation! That tape should be destroyed. Who'd want something like that in the memoirs?
Ridiculous, absolutely. Moe was right. Bolan was just trying to confuse things, sow dissension.
That clock could not be working. How long had it been? Why wasn't he here?
He toyed with the Browning, checked the clip, tested the action, removed the clip and ejected the round from the magazine, put it back in the clip, returned the clip ... oh, God dammit!
A man should not be alone at a time like this. A man should have friends, family, someone who cared.
Moe Kaufman was the only true friend he'd ever had. True? True to what?
True to Abraham Weiss? Hell no, not so. Moe Kaufman did not befriend. Moe Kaufman merely used.
A puppet, huh? That son of a bitch! Where'd he get off calling Abraham Weiss a puppet? Pawn, maybe. Yeah. Pawn.
What was that? Had he heard something? Carlos? Of course not. They'd sent Carlos away hours ago. But someone was in the home!
Expendable, huh! Abraham Weiss was expendable! He snatched up the Browning and whirled to the door, screaming, 'Bullshit! Bullshit!'
