constitutional lawyer, he wasn't a civic moralist, he wasn't even a law officer. He was a cop. He wasn't there to protect anybody's civil rights, he was there to protect his town; to keep it straight; to keep it safe. He would bend the law — even break it — to do his job as he saw it.
Yeah, Bolan had known a couple of cops like Barney Gibson. Flaming, stubborn anachronisms who absolutely refused to get in step with the times. And there was still room in the world for a few Barney Gibsons.
There was no introduction, nor did the two men shake hands. Both pairs of hands, in fact, were pointedly kept in full view. The Captain said, by way of greeting, 'So you're the guy. What d'you want with my town, Mister?'
Bolan solemnly told him, 'Your town has a rotten smell, Captain. I sniff Mafia every step I take.'
'So what's new?' the cop growled.
'Me, I'm new,' the Executioner replied.
The Captain snorted. 'You're practically dead, fella.'
'A dead man can do things,' Bolan said. 'Things a living man wouldn't even think about.'
'I guess you're right there. What've you got in mind?'
'I left a couple of samples around,' Bolan said.
The big guy grunted. He stared at the Executioner for a moment, then admitted, 'Yeah, I saw your samples. Pretty impressive. Those were just samples, eh?'
Bolan said, 'Well, call it a pattern.'
'I like your patterns, Mister. But somewhere else. Not here. Gives the town a bad feel. Look. I wouldn't have come if I'd known what was up. I can stretch, but not that much. You turn around and walk away from here. And keep going until you're clear out of town. That's as far as I can stretch.'
'The thing is going to split wide open, Captain. Whether I leave it or not.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Things have become too good here. For the mob. It's time for the thieves to start falling out. They've already started.'
'You have some definite knowledge of that?'
'I have,' Bolan assured him. His gaze flicked to Mary Ching. 'Mary can fill you in later, I don't have the time. But you better believe this. A full scale mob war is brewing here. It involves not only the organization boys but their fellow travelers as well. That means blood in the streets, and maybe a lot of innocent blood with it.'
'Go on.'
'So my way is much cleaner.'
The shrewd old eyes were sizing him up, wondering, measuring, taking a vote. The ballot fell in the box, and Captain Gibson told the Executioner, 'Okay, I'm still listening.'
'I'm thinking of a clean sweep, from the bottom to the top. I'll take the top and leave the bottom for you.'
'That's damn nice of you.'
'Be realistic,' Bolan argued. 'You'll never wrap up the big boys and you know it. And as long as they're up there, this town will be crawling with torpedoes and leeches of every variety. When the big boys fall, the influence falls with them. You'll need to set up annexes to your jails to handle the load.'
'So why tell me about it?' The guy was interested, though, definitely interested. 'Why don't you just go ahead and do it. Why consult me first?'
'I might need your help.'
'Uh huh, I guess I saw that coming.'
'Nothing open, nothing that would put you on a spot. I just want you to pass a few words around for me.'
'And what are those?'
Bolan smiled, for the first time during the meeting.
'Would you say that we've come to an agreement in principle?'
The cop smiled back, and it was a hideous thing. He wasn't used to smiling, and it moved all the wrinkles the wrong way. 'You might say that.'
'Okay,' Bolan said. I'll be in touch with you through Mary.'
'Why not get it all on the table right now? I'm here, you're here, let's have it.'
'Not yet,' Bolan told him. 'I'll be in touch.'
'Hell, you've got me dangling, fella. What the hell have you got in mind?'
'You'll know very soon,' Bolan assured him.
He grabbed Mary's arm and they left there in a hurry.
Yeah, very soon. The whole thing would be cracking... very soon now.
'Say that again,' requested Leo Turrin's troubled voice, all the way from Pittsfield.
'Something wrong, Leo? You don't sound too good,' Bolan decided.
'No, I'll tell you later. I'm just not sure I heard you right. What was that again?'
'I said I want you to get a message to Augie Marinello.'
'In your name?' the Caporegime asked.
Bolan said, 'No, just in my spirit. Don't make the impression that it came from me.'
'What do you have in common with the Lord of the East?' Turrin wanted to know. He still sounded troubled... almost cold.
'Blood, maybe,' Bolan said, chuckling. 'He's still the big boss?'
'More or less,' Turrin replied in that curiously masked tone. 'What he says at council usually turns out to be the way things go. What kind of a message, Sarge?'
'I want him to know there's a conspiracy brewing on the west coast. Top drawer stuff. Big enough to wreck the whole arm. The shot heard 'round the world, that sort of thing. Following?'
'Yeah. What's the pitch?'
'A new coalition,' Bolan replied.
'Coalition of what?'
'Try the ChiComs with Daddy DeMarco as a starter. How does that grab?'
'Easy, easy,' Turrin said. 'I've told you things have been in the wind.'
'But you didn't tell me what sort of things, Leo.'
'Right, well... hell. Okay. Here's the way I'm reading. The boys hate the hell out of the commies. You know?'
Bolan said, 'I know. But business before pleasure. Right?'
'So right. Business before anything. I hear they've been trading. Mostly in narcotics, but other things too. Uh, Mack... what coalition?'
'It's only in my mind, right now. But it could be for real, Leo. It could be. I'd like for Marinello to think it is for damn sure.'
'Why?'
'Because I want him to shake the hell out of Daddy DeMarco.'
'Okay. What's the plot?'
'The plot is simply this. DeMarco is Mr. King's boy... even more, maybe, than he's the organization's boy. And Mr. King has big ideas for the West Coast.
With trade routes to the Chinese mainland now almost a certain event in the near future, Mr. King is moving swiftly to dominate the entire import picture, and the exports to China as well. Not just narcotics, not just contraband, but the big sweep, everything. The picture forming?'
The man in Pittsfield was evincing definite interest now. 'Yeah. Keep going. Uh, you're saying this Mr. King is coming out in competition with the regular mob setup.'
'Right, in direct competition. Would this suggest a conflict of interest to your mind? Concerning DeMarco and his close ties with King?'
'Sure. Is this for real?'
'It could be. There's a certain old Chinese gentleman here who is definitely worried about something pretty
