But Bolan's mind was moving forward to a much more pointed routine from the hottest comic in the land. It was time for a Command Performance, and the audience of one had a life-or-death interest in the newest and un- funniest monologue of the non-ethnologist.
They were going to play a name game.
And the stakes were life… or death.
Chapter Six
Show time
It was a two-bedroom stucco job made to look like an adobe hut, except for the glass front overlooking the pool, with the standard Vegas posh interior and a small combination kitchenette-bar huddled in a corner of the living room. A hideaway bed was extended and ready for occupancy, taking up much of the living area.
Bolan took a quick walk-through, encountering nothing but an incredible litter of feminine clothing and incidentals. Opened and overflowing suitcases congested both bedrooms, and the bath was a hazard area of miniature clotheslines and damp lingerie. Both closets were overflowing with plastic traveling bags stuffed with dresses of every description. Boots, shoes, sandals, sneakers and everything that could be put on a foot were scattered all about the place.
Bolan completed his inspection and found Anders pouring liquids into two glasses at the bar. 'Choice,' the perennial funnyman announced. 'Whiskey and soda, or soda and whiskey. Which will it be?'
'Thanks, neither,' Bolan told him. 'How many of these girl rangers are there, Anders?'
The comedian chuckled and corrected him. 'Ranger Girls,' he said, 'with a capital R and a Capital G and a yo-ho-ho just to think about 'em. They're really sensational. Four, count 'em, four. Going on the bill tomorrow. They sing, they dance, they tell jokes, and they knock your eyes out.'
Bolan got the feeling the little guy was talking just to drown out his heartbeat.
'Between 'em they also play fifteen musical instruments. They got here early, to catch the competition along the Strip. Old show biz tradition, nobody loves a performer like another performer. Trouble is, most of the clubs show at the same time, so we don't get a chance to catch each other unless we come early or stay late. They're nice kids, Bolan. We've billed together at Miami Beach, Tahoe, San Juan — hell, everywhere. We're friends, though, that's all. They saw me get it, just outside here a few hours ago, and I guess they're all that saved me from a worse beating than I got. They started yelling, the goons took off, the girls pulled me in here and called a doctor. Gave me a key, told me to stay as long as I like, and then went supper-clubbing.' He grinned. 'That's show biz. What else you wanta know?'
'Why're they muscling you? And don't tell me they just don't dig your act.'
'The act I do, I'm lucky I don't get mugged twice a night.'
'You know what I mean.'
Anders sighed and took a long pull at his drink. 'Yeah. The mob. The mythical Mafia. I'll tell you something, Bo — Frankie. If Autry sent you, then you should know also why I'm getting muscled.'
'We weren't able to discuss the fine points. He just said that you're in trouble, something you don't want the cops in on just now.'
'Look… I've been fifteen years getting where I'm at, and it's been uphill all the way. If those guys think I'm going to hold still for a death kiss now they're outta their minds. I fought guys like that all my life, grew up on the streets with 'em, and I thought I'd gotten away from all that. But I found out better. There's no getting away from those guys, Bolan, they're like ants at a picnic.'
'What guys? The mob?'
'Yeah, the myths. They've grabbed control of my managers. I've been with ASA since '62 and they've always been a great outfit. But now...'
'ASA?' Bolan queried.
'That's American Show Association. They manage and book talent all over the world, and they've always been one of the best. I find out now that one of the partners sold out to the mob. He's working for them now — fronting for them, I guess — drawing a salary. Listen, I'm not...'
'Why worry, Anders? Why should you care who books you, so long as you keep getting the top spots?'
'Look, Bolan, you know better than that. You wanta feed me straight lines though — okay, let's play. You know how it goes. Let the mob get one finger on you, just one, pretty soon they got it clear up your ass and they're turning you wrong-side-out like a dirty sock.'
'Give me a for instance,' Bolan said.
'For instance. Okay, try this one. I've been opening the winter season at the Fountains in Miami Beach every year for the past five. Me'n the management have this thing going, we're like old buddies. Any time I'm passing through I sleep there, and I always get the visiting royalty treatment. It's been that way for five years. Get the picture?'
'I've got it,' Bolan assured him. 'Go on.'
'So this winter an old tradition went to hell. Tommy Anders did not open the season at the Fountains. ASA told me the hotel figured it was time for a change. Okay, it hurt a little, but I bought the story. I go on to San Juan and spend a couple of months playing the islands. Last month I'm coming back through Miami. I stop at the Fountains as usual. No visiting royalty treatment this time, no buddy-buddy at all. I finally corner my old buddy Jake in his office and I ask him what's going on. Then I get the story. You ready?'
Bolan nodded. 'I'm ready.'
'The guy is scared out of his skull. He tells me I can go to hell if I like, but he's not going with me. He says he's not giving the mob one little fingerhold on his place and furthermore he'll do no more booking through ASA. That's hurting him, sure, some of the most popular acts in the business are under ASA management, so I'm stunned, see. I finally pull the story out of Jake. They hit him with this routine, see. He can get Tommy Anders to open his season, sure, but there's certain new conditions now. ASA don't like some of the people the Fountains is doing business with. They don't like his suppliers, especially his booze distributors, and they don't even Eke the laundry he uses. They give Jake this long list of hotel supply outfits and tell him he's got to use them exclusively if he wants ASA talent in his showbills.
'Well, to make it short, Jake threw them out. And me, of course, with them. Hell God, Bolan, I was stunned. I just didn't know what to tell him. I start checking back then, realizing now that I've been putting in an unusual season — my bookings, I mean. I hadn't thought of it before, but these were all new joints I'd been playing. New to me, I mean. So I start asking around, I'm still stunned and can't believe it, see. I even dropped into the fuzz palace in Miami. They got a what they call a Dade County Public Safety Department, it's what they call the Sheriff there. They got this Organized Crime Bureau, and I talked to this guy they call a specialist in organized crime. Hell God, what a story this guy gives me, Bolan, ordinary people wouldn't believe it.
'Anyway, I very quick got the picture that was closing in on me. And yeah, they've got their finger clear up into my large intestine, by now, I can see that. I been playing nothing but mob joints all season, me and most of the ASA headliners. I don't mean the mob owns these joints, not outright, but they're controlling all the action in them.
'Those guys are building a whole new empire around the show business world, and bet your ass — if they're into ASA then they're into other agencies too. And they're building an empire of booze, women, food, vending machines, illegal gambling, services, labor, the whole bit. This agent in Miami tells me all these businesses on the ASA vendor's list are mob controlled.
ASA is using the talent, see, jerks like me, to get that foot in the door for them. And that's not all. I mean, I got a selfish gripe, too.'
'They're selling you down the river,' Bolan commented.
'Right, that's exactly right. There's money in commissions, sure, but that's peanuts now for ASA. They'll barter me into oblivion if it serves their purposes. But that's not the scariest part, Bolan. I mean, I'm not all that noble, but there's more involved here than what happens to Tommy Anders. You ready for the biggee?'
Bolan smiled grimly and said, 'Go.'
