A little guy in shirtsleeves occupied a chair at the landing. He looked at the visitor and asked, 'Where ya going, stud?'
'Run in there and tell the man I want 'im,' Bolan demanded, recognizing Max Keno.
'Who wants him?'
'Vinton.'
'I don't know ya, Vinton.'
'You will, Max. You will.'
'Oh, well… you wanta see him?'
'I didn't walk all the way up here to see you, dumdum.'
The little guy smiled and said, 'Ain't it a hell of a day? You hurt much?'
Bolan rubbed his jaw and said, 'Nah, I still got my swinger, I guess that's all that counts.'
Keno laughed and told Bolan, 'Just push the button on the door there. They'll let you in.'
'Who's in there besides him?'
'Aw, that wop, the comic. They're still sweating him.'
'That's really why I came,' Bolan confided. 'They think he should've broken down long ago.'
'Well, Joe figures it's better to last it longer and get it better, he ain't getting too rough. Vito got carried away yesterday on the other guy.'
'And now Vito gets carried away,' Bolan said, his voice dropping low.
'Yeh, I hate that. I was with Vito three years. He was okay to me. I hated that.'
Bolan sighed. 'Don't worry, we all did, even you-know-who. Well…' He shrugged and smiled philosophically. 'That's the way it goes sometimes. We I ever know, do we, Max? I just push the button eh?'
'Yeh. Just a minute, I'll…' The little tagman heaved out of the chair and went over to work the local dockworks for the out-of-towner.
What the hell. The guy could turn out to be his next boss, who could know?
He pressed the intercom signal and said, 'It's Vinton, He wants in.'
'Who?' came the reply.
'You know. Vinton He's with… you know.'
The buzzer sounded and the door popped open. Bolan strolled in, noting that Vito's elaborate security jazz had been abandoned. The tower was not manned, there were no spotlights.
Joe Stanno was stretched out on a couch, asleep.
Tommy Anders occupied a swivel chair in the center of the room. Two guys sat facing him, another was perched atop the desk, just behind the comic. It was this one who challenged Bolan.
'Whattaya want in here?' he growled.
Bolan ignored him.
Anders looked like hell. His hair was in his face and his head was lying back on his shoulders as though his neck couldn't hold it up any longer. He was tied to the chair. There was no visible evidence of acts of violence suffered, but Bolan knew.
He went over to stand beside the couch and glare down at Stanno. 'What the hell is he doin' sleeping?' he snarled.
'Oh, did he forget to get a chit?' the guy at the desk said, with a voice heavy with sarcasm.
There were bad feelings here, very bad feelings, between the locals and the nationals.
Bolan caressed the band-aid at his nose and rubbed a bit of salt. 'Did he have a chit at the airport this morning?'
The guy lunged forward and slapped the back of Anders' head, taking it out on him.
The comic's head snapped to the other side and he quickly picked it up. He stared dully at Bolan and said, very distinctly, 'Fuck you.'
Bolan snickered and said, 'Shit, I didn't pop you, guy.'
'It still goes,' Anders muttered.
'He don't like anybody,' Bolan said, grinning.
'He's a smart ass!' the guy at the desk growled, and slapped the helpless man again. 'Plays cute games with cops and a certain bastard.'
Bolan again looked toward Stanno. 'That guy will sleep through anything,' he said 'Wake 'im up.'
'You don't wake 'im up!' the headslapper growled. 'He was up all night and all day. Now leave 'im alone.'
'Sure, I'll leave 'im alone,' Bolan said quietly.
'So whattaya want in here?'
'They sent me.' He went over and rubbed Anders' scalp with his knuckles. 'They say you've had the guy long enough. They wanta talk to 'im awhile. This guy is our only handle.'
'We ain't sure about that!'
'Well when do you figure on getting sure? He was right there when two of your own boys got it, wasn't he!'
'We're working 'im the right way,' the guy stubbornly maintained.
'You was,' Bolan corrected him in a soft voice.
The two guys in the chairs stood up abruptly. The one at the desk slid off and walked around the chair to show Bolan a fjerce scowl. 'I've seen you somewheres, Vinton,' he declared.
'You're going to be seeing me a lot,' Bolan promised, •cowling back.
'Yeah?'
'On second thought, maybe not. You're so cozy with sleeping beauty there, maybe I'll just let you stay with 'im.'
The guy sent a suddenly worried glance to his two companions. He said, 'Well now wait. Just what the hell… ?' His gaze slid to Stanno and back to Bolan. His face tightened and he said, 'Yeah?'
Quietly, Bolan said, 'That's the way it goes.'
The two other inquisitors were shuffling their feet about and giving each other significant looks. The spokesman for the trio dropped his voice to a quiet murmur and said, 'Well, that's a hell of a note.'
In the language of the mob, Joe Stanno's death had just been announced as imminent.
'That's the way it goes,' Bolan said again. 'You can't do nothing for a leper, you know that, so don't go getting all busted up. Go on downstairs and find something to do. Better than that, get lost for a couple of hours.'
'Oh Christ no,' the guy groaned, the message just now fully reaching home. 'Has it actually got to that?'
'You in love with the guy or something?'
'Well no… but… we been together a long time.'
'So you won't want to be around for the next couple of hours,' Bolan suggested.
'How the hell can they just decide something like that with the snap of a finger?' the loyal crewchief whispered loudly.
'You wanta go up there and ask them?' Bolan said, the voice now hard and cold.
The guy backed off. His face moved into composed lines and he said, 'Forget I said that, huh?'
Bolan shrugged and replied, 'I didn't even hear it. Go on, cut out. I'll take care of your pigeon here, too.'
The guy squared his shoulders, took a long look at the sleeping man on the couch, then marched quickly from the room. The other two followed close behind. The door closed and Bolan went to work at the sashcord on Anders' wrist.
The comic said, 'I'm not no ethnician, but you Wops live lousy lives.'
'I'm a Polack,' Bolan said, using his own voice.
'I don't care if you're a…' The little man's eyes were opening wider and he was taking his first good look.
Bolan grinned and told him, 'Come on, you're going to be late for your first show.'
'Hell God, it's you!' the comic whispered.
'I thought the other guy knew it too, for a minute there,' Bolan confided. He jerked the ropes away and
