Firebase Seattle

boutonniere, smoked glasses, gray Homburg.

All of which was no more than a flashing impression gained via a microsecond of observation while Bolan was already reacting to the situation.

He launched himself in full flight, hitting that door with a double judo kick from six feet out, and it went all the way to full closure with a resounding crack, punching the blond man and entourage into a noisy descent along the stairway.

Dianna was a quick reactor, also. She'd punched the 'door close' control and was holding the door open with her hand when Bolan recovered and began scrambling back. 'Roof!' he yelled as he dived inside.

He again cycled to 'out of service' as they were exiting, then grabbed the girl's hand and led the dash to the waiting 'copter. While she climbed aboard, he stepped over to attach an 'exterior device' to the outside railing of the parapet.

'You still had ten seconds,' Grimaldi observed drolly as they lifted off.

'Not really,' Bolan puffed, but nobody heard him above the clatter of the rotors.

Nor did they need to.

Angry men were erupting from another housing just east of the stalled elevator and swarming across that roof down there.

One of them took a wild shot at the disappearing 'eagle,' but it was a vain attempt.

They were well clear and climbing into the mists above.

The girl gave him an uncertain visual contact then sighed and snuggled to him.

Grimaldi was making a sign with his headset.

Bolan donned his and asked, 'Yeah?'

'Too close for comfort,' the pilot commented. 'It's zero-zero down there right now. You just made it, buddy. Thank God I was sitting, not hovering upstairs.'

Yeah.

That, dear hearts, was what Mack Bolan called 'on the numbers.' With not a heartbeat to spare.

15 Clean

Grimaldi found a momentary clearing and set down a few hundred yards from where Bolan had left the warwagon.

Grim-lipped, he told the Executioner: 'Terrified but safe. For now. Here you are, soldier. And the ride was paid in advance.'

Bolan gripped his friend's hand in a warm clasp and said, 'You're a real artist, Jack. Thanks. I'm releasing you. Need anything?'

The pilot shook his head. 'But you do. I'll stick around a while.'

Bolan smiled, lightly slapped the guy's hand, and took the young lady out of there.

As soon as they'd stepped inside the warwagon, she sank to the floor with a happy sound and declared, 'I never want to leave here again.'

He said, 'Come forward,' and went up to fire the engine. The girl slid into the seat next to him, contrite but eyes glowing — and he quit that place, headed for the motel where he had parked Margaret.

'Okay,' Dianna said presently. 'Start screaming at me.'

He shot her a stern glance then grinned solemnly as he replied, 'Well, we live and learn, don't we. If we live.'

'That's all? You're not going to slap me around or anything?'

'Do you deserve it?'

'Sure. I guess I cornered all the deserve in town, huh.'

'Maybe a pimple of it, here and there. I'm glad you're alive, Dianna. Save the apologies for Margaret. You owe me nothing.'

'I owe her, though.'

'Yeah.'

'I owe you, too. Listen, what can I tell you? What do you need to know?'

He angled another glance her way and shrugged his shoulders. 'What do you have?'

'I don't know. Ask me something.'

'The blond guy. Was that Franciscus?'

'Yes. The rat. I thought for a little while that you two were very much alike. You're not. Not at all. He almost killed my mother, didn't he.'

Bolan nodded. 'Trying for me.'

Her eyes hung as she reported, 'Johnny was furious that they missed. But he didn't bat an eye over the way they handled it — my mother, I mean.'

'These people don't care who gets in the way, Dianna.'

'Yes, I — you told me that,' she pointed out, small voiced. 'I had to see it for myself, I guess. I'm sorry, Mack. I am genuinely sorry. For what good that does.'

He dismissed it with a bat of the eyes. 'Did you see the chubby comic on the stairway behind Franciscus?'

'A while ago?' She slowly shook her head. 'It all happened so fast.'

'Guy about sixty. Five and a half feet or so high.

Big belly, Hollywood glasses. Dressed for burial Ring any bells?'

She said, 'No. I don't recognize that. Maybe it was the important person — yes, I guess it was. They went to the airport to meet someone from Rome.'

'Rome, eh?'

'Yes. Someone important. They were all atwitter. That's why I was tied and gagged. They didn't want me to — '

'That's not the only reason,' he pointed out.

'I guess not. I tried to get out of there twice tonight, before they tied me up. I guess I was running around and yelling a lot. They were going to kill me, Mack. I know that. Eventually. They were.'

He said, 'Probably. Homburg from Rome, eh?'

'Huh?'

'Never mind. You keep saying 'they.' Is that a figure of speech, or ...?'

'No, there's a bunch. Johnny's the boss. They all call him 'Captain' to his face and do everything but salute and kiss his shoes. It made me sick. But all those men at the penthouse are sort of like bosses. I mean — well, not David and the ones that just stand around feeling of their guns. But he has about ten other men that come there. Honestly, you know what came in my mind when I was watching them together up there tonight? Hitler and his gang, or something like that. They're all maniacs. But Johnny is the boss maniac. D'you remember me asking you if the little iron cross made you a neo-Nazi? Boy! How close — but the wrong side.'

'That's the way they struck you, huh?'

'Sure. Heil Johnnyl They do everything but goose-step and wear comic uniforms.'

'What do you think they're getting ready for?'

'Gosh, I don't know. Except that they're all high, very high.'

'Okay, let's go back a bit. To Allan. You didn't tell me the whole truth about that, did you?'

Very quietly she replied, 'No. I was the first in the family to meet John Franciscus. I went to work for him. Next thing I knew, I was going to bed with him. He was ...' The girl batted her eyes rapidly and took a deep breath. 'I guess I thought he was sent from heaven, gift-wrapped and all. I've noticed that most people get that feeling about him — at first, anyway. He's a rat, though.'

'Allan.'

'Huh? Oh. Well I was just an avenue to Allan. Not that he had to twist Allan's arm any, but — well, I blame