He got up and went into the lounge and ran full-body into Toby Ranger and her Canuck side-kick, the body- lover.
'Pardon me, honey,' he apologized nastily. 'You should look out where I'm going.'
He went on to the bar without looking back.
He knew, though, that the two girls were still standing in the doorway, watching him.
He threw a five spot on the bar and loudly demanded service.
For double-dam sure, there was no such thing as a sure thing.
It looked as though his dice had come up acey-deucey. It was a crap-out.
Chapter Thirteen
Natural
Bolan had not set the stage in Vegas. Others had. And the man from blood was a superb opportunist who would grab any handle, twist any combination, and push on any door which might tend to equalize the staggering odds in his game of war and survival.
The situation in Vegas at that moment was heavily weighted against mere survival for Bolan. Any suggestion that he could lot only survive but also score some degree of victory seemed unthinkable. But he would snatch at those handles, massage the combinations, and lunge against those doors until something worked… or until he suddenly dropped dead.
His greatest hope lay in the stage set for him by the forces intent on destroying him. The confusion and tension in the town was monumental, and he meant to play that angle for all it was worth.
But now here was Toby Ranger approaching him, in the enemy's heartland. One wrong word, a single suspicious gesture, anything at all which could seem out of place could mean his unmasking… and his total undoing.
She sidled up beside him at the bar and said, 'Buy a girl a drink, honey?'
Without turning his head, Bolan loudly replied, 'I already been laid twice today. Beat it!!'
He felt her stiffen. The other girl moved in on his other side and placed everything she had against him.
He said, 'Whatsa matter? Business all that bad?'
The Canadian laughed softly and said, 'You're a riot, did anybody ever tell you that?'
No one seemed to be giving any attention to the little comedy at the bar, but Bolan figured that couldn't last forever. He tasted his drink, set it down, and hissed, 'Thanks, kids. You're all I needed.'
'Just keep it up, you're doing fine,' the blonde told him. 'We may even take you into our act.'
He growled, 'Yeah, Little Leddo, the lead-stuffed dummy. Bug off, eh?'
'We're looking for Tommy,' the body-bumper told! him.
'I don't have him,' Bolan assured her.
'Somebody has,' the blonde said.
Bolan picked up his drink and yelled, 'A hundred bucks? What is it, gold-plated or something!'
Toby's face turned fiery red.
Bolan laughed loudly and said, 'Awright, let's talk it over.'
He took the blonde's elbow and steered her away from the crowd at the bar and to a booth at the rear. The other girl followed close behind. Bolan slid into the booth and left the girls standing there. 'Siddown, siddown,' he said grandly.
Toby flounced in and angrily whispered, 'I should blow the whistle on you, you smart...'
'Shut up!' Bolan snapped. He told the Canadian, 'Siddown!'
She did.
He told them, 'This is no show biz stand, kids. When this curtain falls, it's a shroud. Now what's this about Anders?'
The Canuck was rubbing his arm. Toby Ranger's face was still set into angry tines. She said, 'He's been missing since five o'clock. We tracked him here. And suddenly the trail ends.'
'Did he come alone?' Bolan wanted to know.
'No. Two other men were with him.'
Bolan said, 'Okay, I'll find him.'
'Gee thanks.'
'Isn't that what you want me to do?'
'Well, sure,' the Canadian put in.
Bolan was staring at the blonde. Her eyes fell. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I guess it is a pretty dry stand, isn't it.'
He said, 'You know it.'
'Well, you look great,' she assured him.
'Didn't fool you,' he said.
'I'm special,' she replied, smiling.
'Yeah, you are at that,' he told her.
She colored again and glanced at the darkhaired girl. 'We'd better leave him alone, I guess.'
The Canuck said, 'You swim divinely.'
He told her, 'I bleed the same way. Where are the other girls?'
The blonde replied. 'We're supposed to go on in an. hour. They're getting the costumes ready.'
Bolan said, 'Well, I'll nose around and find our man. But you girls beat it out of this joint. It's full of poison.'
'Okay,' the blonde replied meekly.
Bolan left them there and went into the casino. The section there was light and listless. The help seemed uptight and jittery. Less than a hundred people were at the tables. Another twenty or so were feeding slots at the back wall.
Bolan's quick visual sweep disclosed maybe a dozen hoods, all locals if his instincts were still operative. He wondered about that and decided that the casino had been placed off-limits to the visiting torpedoes.
Somewhere in that crowd, also — Bolan was sure — would be a goodly representation from various police branches.
Across the partition, in the dining room, a show was getting underway with a fanfare from the band — muffled, in the casino, so as not to distract the more important business at the tables.
Bolan stopped at a craps table which was enjoying a small flurry of action. He threw a twenty at the croupier. The guy pushed him a stack of chips and announced, 'The cubes are hot.'
'I'll bet,' Bolan growled.
He watched the up-man bounce the dice across the table for a pair of threes.
'The point is six,' the house man announced.
Bolan pushed his stack of chips into play and proclaimed, 'He makes it.'
'House covers.'
The guy rolled a seven and cried, 'Aw shit!'
'Craps,' announced the croupier.
'It figures,' Bolan sneered, and walked away.
The stairway to Vito's joint was blocked by a couple of hardmen. Bolan went straight to them and said, 'Is he there?'
The gunners looked him over and one of them replied, 'Yeh, he's there.'
'Run up and tell 'im I wanta see 'im.'
A muscle popped in the guy's jaw. He said, 'Fuck you, and run up yourself.'
Bolan sniggered. 'You boys out here don't take no shit, do you?' he commented.
'Not jsually,' the guy said.
Bolan grinned and went on up the stairs.
