Shock Waves(39)

"That's right. You never heard of birthday presents?"

"Oh, I've heard of many things. Spies, for instance. Always sticking snotty noses into other people's business, till they get chopped off."

"What's that got to do with me?"

It was the hardman's turn to sigh. The tape deck disappeared inside his pocket and he rose to stand above her.

"I was hoping you'd cooperate," he told her earnestly. "I see that won't be possible. It will be necessary to persuade you."

Sally felt a chili run down her spine.

"Now wait a second, buster..."

"No more time for waiting. You will tell me what I need to know. Tonight, perhaps tomorrow."

The lady Fed was on her feet but going nowhere.

"Jules..."

"Will understand completely, I assure you. And if not..."

He left the statement hanging there, unfinished, telling Sally everything she had to know about his status in the scheme of things. If he was big enough to call the tune for Patriarcca...

Sally didn't want to think about that. Her mind was on the problem of survival, and she could not see beyond the next few moments. There was pain in store, she knew that much, and wondered how long she could keep the secrets locked inside before she broke, spilled everything.

An hour? Two?

There had been briefings, lectures, on the possibility of capture and interrogation, but reality was something else again. Her flesh was crawling as she waited, mind alert and seeking an escape hatch, finding none.

She was trapped, and there was no way out, no way to reach the other side of it, without proceeding head-on through the middle. Through the pain.

And Sally passed beyond the question of remaining silent, no longer wondering how long she could last.

She wondered now if she would live.

If she could cling to life, at least.

If she would wish to.





17




The phone rang twice before Brognola's gruff, familiar voice came on the line.

"Hello?"

"LaMancha. Can you talk?"

"It's clear."

Outside the service-station phone booth, traffic flowed along Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive. Bolan had a view of the Williamsburg Bridge, the flat sheen of the East River in the middle distance.

"I'm running out of numbers," he informed the Fed. "If Don Minelli has Eritrea, he's in the compound now."

"So's Flasher," Hal reminded him unnecessarily.

"I know."

Brognola's voice was hesitant and edged with apprehension when he spoke. "It could be that we've got a problem there."

An arctic tremor ran down Bolan's spine. "Explain."

"My office got a call from Flasher, two, three hours back. She got my number here, but there's been nothing since. No message, nada."

Bolan read the worry in his old friend's tone.

"You figure she's been made?"

"It's possible. The phone was risky. Then again..."

He did not have to sketch the various alternatives for Bolan. Sally might have lost her access to the telephone for any one of several reasons. There was no good reason to believe her cover had been blown, and yet...

The soldier's primal instincts spoke to him, alerting him to danger. If she had been overheard, somehow...

If Patriarcca or Minelli were aware of Sally's double role...

If they were working on her, even now...

Goddamn if!

He refused to follow the morbid train of thought where it led. The Executioner had been that way before and required no grim reminders of the scenery.

"I'm going in tonight," he told Brognola. "Any sooner would be self-defeating."

"Yeah. You know, I've just been thinking maybe I should drop in on Minelli. Sort of crash the party, see what's up."

"Without a stack of warrants? You'd have lawyers coming out your ears, guy. It could mean your job."

"Job, hell, they'd have my ass for breakfast," Hal retorted. "Funny thing is, none of that seems too important at the moment."

Bolan heard his old friend's pain and shared it. The hurting fear that comes with knowing someone dear has laid it on the line and may have lost it all. The empty pain that rides ahead of knowing, one way or the other.

"Don't blow it," Bolan cautioned him. "What's done is done... and, anyway, for all we know, she's fine."

"I guess."

Brognola didn't sound convinced.

"And if she's... damaged... well, there's only so much you can do to make it right."

A long silence on Brognola's end, eventually broken by a weary sigh.

"I heard from Sticker, indirectly," Hal said,-glad to change the subject. "Everybody's in, as far as we can tell."

"Vibrations?"

"Cautious. Edgy. Maybe hostile. Everybody's stewing."

Bolan felt glad that his blitz was having the desired effect upon his enemies.