Don Pendleton - California Hit

The sly old fox was not dead yet, and he'd sure put it over on Franco. That was something that just had to be faced. It was a new game.

There was only one thing for Franco to do now.

He had to stop Mack Bolan before Mack Bolan stopped the old man.

There was nothing else he could do.

He would have to turn in Bolan's head, or else die without no damn style at all.

The torpedo's torpedo was not going to die without no damn style at all.

The gunleather was strapped to the side-railing of the bed and Bolan's hand was resting loosely on the grip of the Beretta Belle.

Another hand, a softly delicate one, was trying to come between Bolan and his Belle.

He opened an eye halfway and quietly commanded, "Don't."

She was lying partly across him, the velvety tenderness of her presenting the sweetest of burdens, one arm coiled down around his gun arm.

She whispered, "I thought you were asleep."

He told her, "I was."

"Well, that's some alarm system you've got there."

She moved away from him. The bedsprings creaked as she came to a kneeling position behind him.

Bolan voluntarily released the Beretta, as he rolled over to fix her in the binocular vision of both appreciative eyes.

"Do you always sleep with a hand on your gun?" she asked him.

"Until I get tired of living, sure."

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I just didn't want you going into a bad dream or something and shooting up the joint."

He said, "Okay."

"You really don't trust me, do you."

He said, "No."

"Even after..."

"Especially after," he told her.

Her eyes crossed in perplexity. "Boy, you sure live in a grim world, don't you."

"Like you said, I'm weird."

She wrinkled her nose and replied, "Sort of nice weird, though. Mack... are you wide awake?"

He assured her that he was.

She said, "I want to bare my chest."

Bolan grinned. "I like it just the way it is," he told her.

"You know what I mean. I want to get straight with you. No more mistrust. Okay?"

He said, "Suit yourself."

"Wouldn't you like to trust me?"

He tipped his head back and said, "Sure I would."

"Well listen to me. Wo Fan and Franco Laurentis are hooked together somehow."

Bolan's eyes flickered and he said, "Do tell."

"You already knew it, huh."

"I've been wondering."

"Well you can stop wondering. They definitely are. It's one of those marriages of convenience, I believe, but they definitely..."

"And the old cop?"

"Barney Gibson?"

He said, "Uh huh."

"Do I have to get that bare?"

He said, "No."

The girl sighed. "Well, I will. I have been in the employ of Barney Gibson."

"Who else have you been in the employ of?"

Her gaze fell. "Anyone who has the price, I guess," she admitted.

"And what is the price?"

She said, "Depends on the job."

"What is the nature of the work?"

"Intelligence."

Both eyes narrowed as Bolan asked her, "You telling me you're a private eye?"

She threw her head back and laughed, as though grateful for the break. "Not really. I'm not licensed." The eyes flashed wickedly and she added, "But I have a law degree and I once worked for Mr. Hoover."

Bolan groaned.

She asked him, "You have something against Mr. Hoover?"

He replied, "Just his womenfolk. I think women's lib must have pulled a secret coup on the federal level. Do you know how many federal dolls I've..."

Quickly she said, "I don't want to know, don't tell me. Anyway, I said I once worked for him. I've been freelancing for two years."

"Without license."

"Right, without license. I'm not public. A license would hamper me. I'm not a detective, Mack. I'm a spy."

He said, "Okay. What's the tie-in with Barney Gibson then? He paying you out of his own pocket?"

"Possibly. I wouldn't know if the city has a payroll code for paid informers."

He said, "I see."

"I've also been on Wo Fan's payroll, watching the operation at China Gardens."

"For what?"

"I don't know for what. I just watch and listen. Every night I file a written report of everything I've seen and heard."

"That business about the counterfeit art pieces?.."

She wrinkled her face and admitted, "I made that up."

The girl leaned forward suddenly and kissed him, lightly. It turned into a heavy one, and she pulled away gasping.

"Don't get me started again," she warned.

Bolan chuckled. He lightly caressed a silken arm and told her, "I don't have to trust you, Mary. I like you, and that's enough for now."

"Not for me," she said soberly. "What about instincts? Don't they count for anything? Can't you just know that I'm on your side now?"

He arched an eyebrow and said, "Now?"

She shrugged delicately. "I'm straighting it, I'll straight it all the way. I suspected that Wo Fan had an unholy interest in the Mafia even before I ran into you. Franco Laurentis tried to grab me by the rear one night. When I told him to get lost, he got real cute about our 'common interests' and he actually dropped Wo Fan's name on me. I mentioned the incident to Wo Fan the next day. He became very upset and started throwing out excited instructions, in Chinese, to his bully boys. I didn't know what he was saying, but..."

"You don't kapish Chinese?"

She smiled tolerantly. "Do you kapish Polish?"

He grinned back. "No. How'd you know about my Polack background?"

She told him, "I know a lot of things about you, Mack Bolan. Or I thought I did, until this morning. Anyway... the next time I ran into Franco Laurentis — it was a couple of nights later — he came over and made it a point to apologize to me for his behavior. Which, if you know anything about that dude, you'll know is way out of character. But he was using the apology as a cover up. His real purpose was to make me think he'd been kidding about Wo Fan. About 'common interests,' I mean."

Bolan said, "Okay, I see it."

"So... anyway... when I ran into you at the Gardens last night, I... Well, I'm a working girl, you know." She gave him a rueful-smile. "Have to pay the damn bills, you know. I guess I... had you in about the same running class as Laurentis and the rest. I mean..."

"I know what you mean," Bolan assured her, sighing.

"I knew that you'd been billed as the all-American folk hero, but I figured... well, you know what I figured. I know what these public relations people can do with an image, and the press is no different. I had you figured as a glory guy. You know. Soldier-of-fortune type, making a big name and a big game for yourself by running around making big noises at the mob."

"I know what you mean," he assured her.

"Will you please let me bare myself in my own way?"

He chuckled. "Right on."

"Well then I came into this... this place." She shivered. "I saw how you... how you had to make it. I mean, the super security, the constant grinding race to just keep that one step ahead of the world. Oh hell, Mack Bolan, I felt so miserable for you, I could have just cried!"

Bolan told her, "Hey, it's not all that bad."

She said, "The hell it's not. I know better. I know it now. And I almost... I almost set you up for them. Did you know that? I came within an inch of setting you up for Franco's assassins."

"What makes you think they weren't after you?"

"Well I..."

He said, "They wouldn't have come after me that way, Mary. I never have thought that they expected to find me there. That was supposed to be an easy hit, girl. Why do you think I insisted on dragging you out of there?"

She shivered again and said, "Well — damn, damn. Sure, Laurentis started worrying about his slip to me. I'll bet you're right."

He said, "Sure I am. And then you threw it back at me. Bugged out. I figured you as good as dead. Maybe that's why I..."