'You know, a merry-go-round, that kind of carousel.'
The big guy's eyes got speculative, and he said, 'Something like the California carousel, eh?'
'Nah, that's just the L.A. end, that's nothing. The Caribbean is where it's all at now, Bolan, that's the next big one.'
'Okay. Keep trying.'
'Hell, that's all I know right now. They don't let small fish like me in on details like that. But I've personally dispatched sixteen mil down there in the past year.'
'Sixteen million dollars?'
'That's it. And that boodle you heisted out there tonight was headed for the same place.'
'The Caribbean, eh.'
The guy was interested. Apostinni's heart got a bit stronger and he said, 'Yeh. San Juan first. There it's cut and sent around the carousel to the other islands.'
'For what?'
'I don't know for what. I'm leveling with you, Bolan.'
'Suppose I give you a reprieve, Vito. For twenty-four hours. Think you could come up with something a bit more worthwhile?'
'Sure, I know I could.'
'You're small fish, remember?'
'To live, Bolan, I can get big damn quick.'
'Okay, you've bought yourself a day, Vito. Honor the deal and I'll make it a full pardon.'
Apostinni could hardly believe it. The guy couldn't be that stupid! 'God, you can trust me, Bolan. I never welched a deal in my life.'
'Okay.'
The guy just stood there, staring at him from behind the blaster. Apostinni coughed nervously and said, 'Well… okay. I'll uh, escort you out. Meet me back here tomorrow, same time. Or would you rather I meet you some place?'
'Right here will be fine.'
The guy just stood there. The boss of the Gold Duster got to his feet and crossed carefully to the door. Was the hick dumb-rube bastard going to let him actually walk out of there?
Vito carefully placed his hand on the door mechanism and, with every nerve of his body screaming for control, told Bolan, 'You want me to go on ahead and, uh, clear a path for you?'
'Okay,' said the jerk-probably hophead, unbelievably stupid dummy.
Apostinni opened the door, slid out, banged it shut, hit the panic switch and froze that door so a ton of TNT wouldn't open it and started alarms ringing all over the joint, and all in the same instant he screeched, 'Max! That nut's in there! What the goddamn hell're you...'
The tagman was out of his chair and lunging toward the boss, the rod in his hand, trying to surround his personal god with his own lone body.
'Wait, waitaminnit!' • Vito cried, shoving the bodyguard away from him. 'He's locked in there, dammit!'
The casino boss punched the intercom button and yelled, 'Okay, dummy, that's all for you. That's a regular vault you're in there, you dumb shit!'
A wave of humanity was surging up the stairway, pistols waving all over the place, and towards the rear of the wave Joe the Monster was pushing people this way and that and fighting his way to the front.
'What the hell is it, Vito?' Stanno yelled.
'That nut, that Bolan dummy, I got 'im locked up inside my joint!' Apostinni cried exultantly.
'Well shut off the fuckin' alarms, huh?'
A full sixty seconds were required to still the pandemonium outside 'Vito's joint' and to line up a wavy wedge of gun soldiers, and then another twenty seconds to override the electronic lock. Then the door was flung open and six of Joe the Monster's best dived through the opening, guns blazing in every direction.
It took less than three seconds to completely shoot up Vito's joint.
And when the firing ended, Joe the Monster stepped warily into the room, gazed stupidly around at his boys, and then called out, 'Mr. Apostinni. Who'd you say was locked up in here?'
'Didn't you get him?' Vito asked in a hushed voice.
Another voice sang out from inside. 'Nobody in the bathroom, Joe.'
Apostinni entered the 'vault' on trembling legs. 'He couldn't have got out,' he insisted in a dazed voice.
'Who shot Bruce Serena, Mr. Apostinni?' Stanno swiveled about to glare at his guncrew. 'Did one of your boys drill Bruce Baby?'
'They didn't do it!' Apostinni cried. 'That Bolan bastard did it, and he was going to do it to me too! I outsmarted him and made a break! Look, dammit, he's in here somewhere!'
'Should we look under the rug, Mr. Apostinni? We looked every place else.'
'I'm telling you he's in here!' the casino boss ranted. 'There ain't no way out! He's in here!'
'Mr. Apostinni,' Joe the Monster said quietly, 'you been working just a little too hard. You better get to bed now. Get some sleep. I'll handle the explanations downstairs.'
'I'm telling you he's in here! I ain't sleepin' in here until you find him!'
'Somebody pull Bruce Baby down from there,' Stanno commanded, sighing. 'Where's the gun, Mr. Apostinni? You better let me get rid of it.' Stanno signaled to Max Keno, the surviving bodyguard. 'Come on now, Mr. Apostinni, we got to take care of ourselves, right?'
'Look, Joe, I'm not off my marbles,' Vito declared, his voice now cold and controlled. 'I didn't drill Bruce, I'm telling you...'
'Hey boss!' cried an excited voice from the security platform. Two hardmen had gone up to bring Bruce Baby down. Now one of them was leaning forward with something in his hand. 'This was in his lap.'
Stanno and Apostinni hurried over to the tower and the hardman dropped his find into the enforcer's outstretched hand. It was a sheet of note paper, with something heavier folded inside. A marksman's medal slid out of the fold.
Stanno cleared his throat, which had suddenly become very tight, and read aloud the message that was printed neatly on the paper. The message was, simply, 'Twenty-four hours, Vito.'
'See, I told you,' Apostinni murmured in a voice with everything suddenly gone out of it.
With cold frustration, Stanno growled, .'Well, how the hell did he… ?'
The men on the tower were intensely occupied with another find. 'What's this up here on the wall?' one cried. 'Boss! This thing is loose! It's…'
'What is it?' Stanno yelled.
Apostinni died a little further and mumbled, 'The accessory shaft.'
'The what?'
'You know,' Goldhearted Vito whispered. 'Air conditioning, power cables, TV lead-in, all that.'
'Well where does it go to?' Joe the Monster fumed.
'Out back I guess, Joe.'
'You guess? Stanno clapped his hands together and dispatched a gun party to check it out. The hardmen bolted away and Stanno yelled at the men on the tower: 'Well go on, go on through!'
But it was too late, Apostinni knew in his heart, for a hot pursuit now. The casino boss had been high-rolled by a real pro, and he was experiencing a new and terrifying insight into the mathematics of chance.
The guy had just casually dropped in, allowed Vito to hand over his black book, and then just dropped the hell back out again.
Some men made their chances, others merely rode with them.
And Heart of Gold Vito would never again be absolutely certain as to which category he himself fit into.
