had happened, thought old Fish was sleeping. Silencer, I'd guess. Took Leo's roll and his loan cards. My people are getting nervous.'
'Tell them to relax. Vince Carboni is here and the Executioner has forty-eight hours to live.'
'I've heard that before, Vince. Last night this madman pulls my loans director out of his own house, takes him to the company office, drills him twice, steals I don't know what and blasts the office into junk. He ruined every loan record on the premises. The bastard has cost me over a million already, and he ain't been in town for twenty- four hours.'
Carboni removed his jacket, hung it over a chair and sat at the small table.
'Don Canzonari, I want a crew wagon with plenty of firepower inside. You have any automatic submachine guns?'
'One MP-40. I had it out once and it.'
Carboni held up his hand and continued.
'I need five hundred rounds and two good men. A driver and one for backup. I want your best gunner. I want him here now.'
The Don nodded, made a phone call. When he hung up he made an impatient gesture.
'His name is Rocco. Damn good man.'
'I'll need three .45 autos and lots of magazines. After that I'll let you know what happens.'
'Right. I've got a room for you here and a hotel room downtown. You can use either or both.'
An hour later Carboni had settled into his room in the Canzonari mansion.
He watched a Mexican maid unpack his bags. When she was done he field-stripped and offed the MP-40, a weapon he had not seen for a while.
This one was in good shape; like most of them it probably fired high and to the left. But he would not need to sight it in. He would just spray the target. Once he'd checked out the weapons, had met his wheelman and inspected the car, he returned to the Portland Don.
'Where's Rocco?'
'He got hung up, but he'll be here in half an hour. Now what is the procedure?'
'The Executioner is my job. The minute he shows his nose, I want your people to call you before they take a breath. I want to know where he is. He's slippery, but with a fast-working crew we can track him down. Then he's my meat.'
'I've offered five thousand dollars for the man who first spots him and reports in. What about the head money, the million the Commission put up?'
'It's still waiting to, be collected,' Carboni said.
'You eligible?'
'Damn right.' He shrugged. 'And now I find myself waiting for this great gunman, Rocco. When he gets here, keep both him and the driver in the limo. If we get a call, I want them there and the damn engine warmed up.'
Canzonari returned to his desk and called his loan operators, commanding them once again to contact him immediately if they even suspected the Executioner was around.
He called in his consigliere, and they discussed the problem of who to put in charge of the loan and prostitution operations.
It was hard to believe that Also Capezio was gone. He'd been slow to develop, but he had a good future. Now they must pick a new lieutenant.
The Don stared beyond his screened porch at the pool and acres of carefully tended lawns. He tried to enjoy the sun while he could. His was a high-risk occupation. He ought to live the good moments for all they were worth. He had lost five good men in the past few hours.
Vince Carboni must be an expert. Anybody the Commissione sent would be top drawer. But was he good enough to take out Mack Bolan? Five men whacked out and not a clue for the cops or his 'rectifiers.' He phoned Joey to meet them in the study with the computer evaluations on the top men.
Don Canzonari lumbered to his feet and waddled up to his office.
Joey was there when he arrived. The consigliere, Joseph Morello, went to his own office for some files and returned a few minutes later.
Joey grinned at his father and slapped down computer printouts. Joey was twenty-six, a graduate of the University of Oregon at Eugene and a bona-fide computer whiz. He had set up the programs and the hardware for the entire system. Now he could call up facts and figures on any of the family businesses, legitimate or otherwise. He'd even rigged his office so that anyone sitting in a certain chair could be videotaped from one of three cameras.
'Okay, business. Who do we have with leadership qualities who isn't already assigned?' the elder Canzonari asked.
''Leadership'? We aren't exactly overwhelmed with top candidates.' Joey picked up a printout and flipped through the pages. 'Best man for the job is Frank Genaro. He's been with the family for seven years. Has served well in half a dozen shoot-outs. Wounded once. Called to testify in a court case and said all the right things for the family.'
Gino looked at his lawyer, who nodded. 'I didn't think of Frank, but he could do well. How much education?'
'He graduated from high school,' Joey said, reading from the printout.
'Morello, you talk to him. Tell him he's got to get the whole thing together again quick. We're losing too much in interest payments. And warn him that the Executioner probably knows about every one of our outlets.'
The consigliere nodded and left.
Gino Canzonari turned to his son. 'Now what about Jupiter? Is everything on schedule?'
Joey examined another printout and smiled. 'Looks like it. My latest data show that the ship should be here the morning of the thirteenth, less than three days from now. The night before, we're having a little gathering of about thirty family people from up and down the coast and as far inland as the plains states. They all want to see what we have for sale.'
'I don't want that hardware around any longer than necessary.'
'Don't worry, dad. I figure none of the illegal stuff will be in our warehouse for more than twenty-four hours. We'll have twenty delivery trucks standing by for loading and immediate dispatch.'
'And the Japanese crewmen and officers are all getting double pay for this run?'
'All taken care of. Envelopes with their cash will be in my briefcase, along with a million in cash for the man from Rome who put the shipment together. The balance we pay through our bank by computer, sending the cash to their account in Rome.'
'Not a check?'
'No. Electronic banking will make the flow of money impossible to trace.'
Joey left his father's office and went to the second floor, where he opened a double-locked door. He entered his computer room and settled behind his favorite machine. Then he punched up a category he had not used since creating it a year earlier.
'Mack Bolan,' he requested. The screen filled with references to items in the computer's memory. He inspected the material. It all had come from a central computer in New York on a series of eight-inch disks.
Joey kept reading, astonished at what this man now threatening the Canzonaris had done in the past.
7
Mack Bolan pulled the Thunderbird to the curb.
He wanted to return to the gun store and look inside, but that was nighttime work.
He made a U-turn and drove back toward the store, circled the block and looked for an alley. There was none, but he found a vacant lot that gave him a distant but good view of the back of the store.
