Shock Waves(10)

"I might."

"Uh-huh, I thought so."

"They were holding me," the lady blurted out. "He saved my life, and they were shooting, and... I mean..."

"Forget about that now." The captain raised a hand. "I'll bet you wouldn't mind a shower and some time alone, hey?"

Sarah glanced at Bolan who nodded.

"Great. Down the hall, first room on your left. You feel like sacking out, I've got two bedrooms. The spare's made up. It's down to the far end, on your right."

She cast another glance at Bolan and left them, disappearing down the hall. A moment later they heard the distant sound of water running in the shower.

"So, my friend, exactly what the hell is going on?"

Bill Rafferty sat forward, his elbows on his knees, cool gray eyes boring into Bolan's own.

"I helped a lady in distress," the soldier told him. "And I knew you'd want to see her."

"You already said that. Who's our so-called mutual friend?"

"The name Brognola ring a bell?"

And it was sounding inner chimes, all right. Bill Rafferty sat back against the sofa cushions, seeming to relax, but there was still a razor's edge of steel in every glance.

"How is Hal, anyway?"

"Still going strong, the last I heard."

"You're out of touch?"

The Executioner was cautious. He might trust Bill Rafferty with Sarah's life and with his own, in coming here at all — but Hal's security was something else again.

"We had a parting of the ways."

"I see."

Bolan wondered if he did. There was a glimmer in the eyes, almost as if the cop was looking through him.

The moment passed.

"So, what's your interest in our missing pigeon?" Rafferty asked.

"Rumor has it he's the main course on the menu at Minelli's coronation supper."

"Well, sure, it plays. Why not? A coup like that would win Minelli a whole load of prestige," the captain said.

"Enough to put him on the throne?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"You know they've got a meeting scheduled, then."

"I've heard some rumbles, but nothing solid."

"Call it firm. The sit-down starts tomorrow."

"You got an inside line, or what?"

The soldier smiled. "Or what. Brognola will confirm."

"Okay. Let's suppose they're running down another Apalachin. What am I supposed to do? This scum has rights, you know? Thus sayest the courts."

"I wasn't thinking of arrests. How about an informational exchange?"

Rafferty hesitated before answering. "I'm listening."

"All right. I know about the meet, who's coming — all the generalities. Before I move, there may be some specifics that I need."

"It sounds like you're ahead of me already, guy. What kind of move are we talking about?"

"Let's say the kind I made tonight, assuming I can find your pigeon."

"Well..."

"Okay, forget it. Keep a close eye on the lady, will you?"

"Dammit, wait a second. What you're suggesting is...unorthodox. I go along with this, my ass is hanging out a mile."

"That's right."

Another thoughtful pause. "I'll have to think about it."

"Fine. And in the meantime..."

"She'll be safe." He read the question in Bolan's eyes and added, "Here."

"All right."

"I'm working on the theory of a leak, myself. I've got it narrowed down, but..."

"No point taking chances," Bolan finished for him.

"Right."

The soldier rose, and Rafferty followed him to the door.

"You know, there's something — aw, forget it. Never mind. You'll keep in touch?"

"Bet on it."

Bolan left the captain standing in the lighted doorway, heard the door click shut behind him as he reached the car.

And Rafferty would think about it, perhaps contact Hal to find out what the hell was going on there in his own backyard. Brognola in turn would tell him what he could — and leave the veteran cop to make his own decisions.

As for Bolan, his decision had been made before he ever reached New York. He would pursue the enemy as far as possible. With any luck at all, he would be able to recover Dave Eritrea and make some substitutions on the menu for the coronation dinner, damn right.

As Bolan started the car, he was pondering the proper menu for a wake.





5




"Goddamn it!" Bill Rafferty swore.

The NYPD captain put down the telephone receiver, staring at the instrument in silence. He would have to make the call, there was no doubt about it, yet...

An image from the past was nagging at him, reaching out with spectral fingers from a shadowy corner of his mind, demanding that he recognize what was about to happen underneath his very nose.