Several yards away, one accomplished and versatile Mafia flyer had also become aware of the new turn of events — a turn which somehow seemed entirely too familiar.
He was trying to breathe past the muzzle pressure of a very business-like .32 revolver and watching the tall man with the Thompson walk casually toward his aircraft.
'Oh God, no!' Grimaldi groaned. 'Not again!'
A coldly decisive female voice with a soft Spanish slur told him, 'But yes. And do not dare to even swallow the spit until I say that you may.'
And then Bolan was there, and spinning him around, and shoving him back to the aircraft.
No words were spoken until all three were inside and secured into the harnesses, then the big cold bastard asked him, 'How much do you want to go on living, Grimaldi?'
'Just tell me where you want to go,' the pilot replied, sighing. 'But I think you ought to start paying my salary.'
The guy actually grinned at the stab of humor and told him, 'I just might.' The grin disappeared abruptly and the face turned again to ice and Bolan commanded, 'Lift her off.'
Grimaldi lifted her off, and heeled her about, and pointed her nose toward the coast.
Yes, definitely, the whole scene was entirely too familiar.
'You're too much, Bolan,' the flying
'I take it where I can get it,' the laconic bastard replied.
Grimaldi knew better. This guy moved it to wherever he thought he could take it. And now he was moving it to Puerta Vista. But Grimaldi was betting that he knew something about Puerta Vista that Bolan didn't know.
He told his hijacker, 'We might not have enough fuel. It's marginal at best.'
Bolan growled back, 'You'd better get it there, Jack. Your life is on the same margin.'
Grimaldi did not doubt that for a moment. He shrugged and replied, 'So I'll get it there if I have to pee in the tank.'
Hell yes. Grimaldi would get it there if he had to
He wanted in the worse way to deliver Bolan to Puerta Vista.
With every gun on the island closing at this very moment on that tiny fishing village, Grimaldi could think of no better place to drop Mack Bolan.
It could mean paydirt yet. It could mean, hell, riches beyond Jack Grimaldi's wildest dreams.
'I'll get you there,' he assured his passengers.
And then Earl Latigo's voice was crackling into the earphones. 'Air One from Air Two. Where are you? What's going on?'
The cold voice in the intercom instructed Grimaldi, 'Very carefully, Jack. Tell him what happened, with one exception. Bolan is dead, also. You are returning alone. Carefully now, soldier.'
That impressive black Beretta with the muzzle silencer appeared in Grimaldi's peripheral vision and the barrel made a small indentation alongside the throat mike.
Grimaldi sighed and punched into the command channel. 'Air One,' he said tiredly. 'Good news and bad. Charlie got Bolan. But he didn't live to brag about it. I'm coming in empty.'
Bolan nodded approvingly and Latigo's elated tones swirled back with, 'Hell, I'd about given it up! He really got the bastard? Bolan's dead? Where'd you nail him?'
'Up in the hills. I, uh, don't feel much like talking right now, Earl. Tell you all about it when we get together.'
'I guess that's why I can't raise Tony,' Air Two replied.
Bolan growled, 'Send them home.'
Grimaldi sighed again, heavily. 'Boss wants you back at the joint,' he told Latigo. 'Go on home, Earl.'
'My ground crews too?'
The Great Stone Face nodded his head.
Grimaldi pressed the throat mike and said, 'Yeah, everybody is heading in.'
'Okay, see you there,' Air Two replied, signing off.
Bolan eased off the pressure of the Beretta and commented, 'I might even pay you a salary plus bonuses, Jack.'
That, thought Grimaldi, was because the guy didn't know what he was heading into. Quick Tony couldn't be reached on the radio because he was setting up something at Puerta Vista.
He went along with the gag, though, and told Bolan, 'When Tony hears about this, you'd better make it enough to get me to Lower Slobbovia, eh.'
Bolan did not reply, and they went on in silence until the lights of Puerta Vista became visible.
Then the woman spoke, for the first time since entering the 'copter. 'Circle from the east,' she instructed him. 'On the first road north of the coastal highway, just inside the village, you will see the church. It has a high bell tower. You will land in the churchyard to the rear.'
Grimaldi nodded his head and glanced at the ice man. 'Is that what you want, Mr. Bolan?'
'You heard the lady,' Bolan replied. 'Do it.'
He found the spot with no trouble at all, and he set her down without landing lights exactly where the lady wanted, and with hardly a bump.
The moon was coming up, and visibility was definitely improving. Grimaldi shivered, wondering what was coming up next — and fearing the worst.
He cut the engine and the rotors were still chugging around in the rundown spin when the big guy started battering the radio with his pistol and ripping out the ignition system.
Then Bolan grabbed Grimaldi and hauled him to the ground and told him, 'Run east, soldier. Don't slow down, and don't look back.'
Grimaldi had absolutely no desire to argue with the man. Paydirt now meant simply remaining alive.
He started running, mentally bracing himself for the shot in the back which never came.
Twice in one day the bastard had let him off. Jack Grimaldi simply could not understand it. He ran on, almost hoping that the big guy would make it through Puerta Vista in one piece. Maybe the guy wasn't such a total bastard, after all.
It was a dumb hope, though. Grimaldi was the lucky one. He was running out of Puerta Vista.
Bolan was striding into it Straight into Quick Tony's paydirt.
Chapter Ten
Soft sell
During those tense moments at the strip mine, while awaiting the arrival of the helicopter, Bolan and Evita performed reluctant farewells, both aware that this might be their last opportunity to do so. And when all the words of appreciation and mutual admiration had been said, she asked him, 'What will you do upon leaving Puerto Rico?'
He reflected on the question for a moment, then replied, 'I had planned to chase the brass ring but… well, I guess it's best that I tuck my tail in and make a run for home ground.'
She nodded her head in agreement. 'This would be best. You do not now think it wise to enter the tournament, yes?'
'I don't like the focus the thing has taken,' Bolan explained. 'Anything I go for now will likely be just another setup, and I'll be fighting their war their way.'
'This is not good.'
'No, it isn't. I'll have to pull back and hope for another try another day. My way, and on my terms. If we can capture this chopper, well go on into Puerta Vista. We'll make the meet with Juan. Then you will go your way and I will go mine.'
'This would be best,' she quietly agreed.
'It's a damn shame,' Bolan mused. 'I may never pass this way again, and there's a lot of fruit to be picked
