They had been silently strolling the grounds and had reached a point about midway between the house and the outbuildings when Copa sourly declared, "I hope you don't mind me walking your legs off. I think better on my feet."
Indeed, Bolan did not mind the walk. He was getting a good feel of the place. And he was getting an even better feel of the man. "You're lucky to have a place like this, Nick," he told him. "The cities are just getting to be too much. New York has gone completely crazy. The others aren't far behind."
"Don't I know it," said the other. "Take L.A. Take Chicago. Take even Vegas. Artificial. It's all artificial." Several paces farther, the conversation turned to a serious note. "Omega, I'm worried."
"Uh huh. About Gordy?"
"Who else?"
"How long has he been with you now?" Bolan inquired.
"Just long enough for me to start wondering. I didn't know him very well, before. Just his reputation. You?"
Bolan grinned. "They didn't start calling him Crazy Gordy for nothing."
The responding grin was more of a grimace. "He's crazy all right. Like a fox."
Bolan was treading a delicate line. He kept that balance as he told the boss of Nashville, "I know nothing behind him, Nick. Far as we know, he's always been a good company man."
"Far as we know, right. But what is all this shit, Omega? What's going on?"
"What did Gordy tell you?"
"He said Roberto's kid came in from the Orient looking for a connection. Said he was worried about the old trouble and didn't know where he stood. Said he was quietly asking around. Gordy says he met with the kid, in town. Had dinner with him and his wife. They small talked. The kid asked for nothing, Gordy offered him nothing. They were supposed to meet again, the next day. The kid was going to call to confirm the meet. He didn't call. Gordy says that's all he knows."
"Maybe that's straight and maybe it's not," Bolan-Omega said quietly. "There's more here than meets the eye."
"So I figured, yeah. But why would he lie about it?"
"That's for you to say," Bolan replied cryptically. "But I have to tell you, Nick… the reason I came down…"
"Don't stop there. Say it."
"Well, you've got a problem here."
"Don't I know it. I guess you know that Dandy Jack took a big fall last night. This is tied to that, somehow, isn't it?"
Bolan said, "I'm afraid it is, Nick."
"Gordy and this Leonetti kid. They're part of that."
"Right. Only the kid is no longer a kid. He's a man. With ideas. You know."
Copa knew, sure. "I see."
"He was Clemenza's man in the Far East." "Is that a fact?"
"It's a fact, Nick."
The guy had a great poker face. "I see." "Here's the way we get it."
"I'm listening," said the Lord of Nashville. He was paying no attention whatever to the direction of their stroll. Bolan was deftly maneuvering the course toward the large central barn.
"Leonetti brought in the shipment that went down with Clemenza last night. He-"
"But the goods arrived just yesterday. The kid hit town-"
"He was supposed to have dropped it off in South America. And he did. But he did not return to home base, like he was supposed to. Instead, he hopped a plane to Nashville. Not to Memphis, Nick. To Nashville."
"I see. Why?"
"The way we make it, he was carrying another shipment."
A moment later, Copa said, "I see."
Damn right he saw.
So did Bolan. They were directly opposite the barn, now. The huge sliding doors were partially agape. A row of large packing crates were stacked just inside. The floor was slick and clean. But it was still too far away to give up any secrets.
The Mafia boss was deep in thought, his mind far removed from the stretch of turf at his feet.
"What, uh-this, uh-are you saying that Clemenza's fall last night is related to all this? Directly, I mean?"
"All I'm saying," Bolan quietly replied, "Is that Dandy Jack had a secret competitor. Let's call him X. So X hits the scene about a week before Dandy's stuff is scheduled to arrive. Very conveniently, for X, Dandy then takes fall-all his product with him. Which leaves X in a very fortunate position. Wouldn't you say?"
"I'd say, yeah," Copa growled softly. "And where does that put Z?"
Meaning, of course, Mazzarelli.
Bolan said, "Depends on where he stands with X, I'd say."
"So would I," said the boss. "How sure are you of all of this?"
"Sure enough that I came as quick as I could," said the visiting Ace.
"I appreciate that. Okay. So I've got a problem. Thanks."
Bolan said, "More than maybe it seems right off, Nick. We, uh-it's so delicate, we, ph -we didn't want to barge in."
"No, no, it's okay," the boss assured the visitor. "I appreciate it."
Bolan could now read the lettering on the crates in the barn. Electronic equipment.
"Who, uh-I have to ask-who funded the buy?”
"Oh, well-you know-a lot of people are in is. Who's funding Leonetti?"
"The same people," Bolan replied.
"I don't, uh, get your meaning," Copa said lowly.
"It's a shell game."
"Who's got the shells?"
"X has one of them, for sure. Z has one, maybe."
"I still don't get you."
"Can we talk straight out, Nick?"
"Like men, right. Go ahead."
"How much was invested in the product you lost last night?"
"Cash outlay, over a million. Street value-well, it's-"
"Forget the street value. Let's talk cash from the pocket. You say over a million. What I suggest to you that what you lost last night Memphis was worth about half that?"
"Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm saying what if. What if our boy Leonetti got an exceptionally good price in Singapore. What if he was able to actually double the value of the buy? And what if he saw a way to sell you your own goods twice?"
Copa was now chewing invisible nails. "Go on."
Nobody hates to be suckered more than a guy who makes his living suckering others. The bare possibility was eating at Copa's guts.
Bolan quickly sank the spurs a bit deeper. "I believe that Leonetti was really trying to contact you, Nick. But he didn't get there."
"He runs into someone else first," Copa said thickly, picking it up for himself.
"That's what I'm saying, Nick. And this Leonetti kid has not been seen since."
The guy's anger was strangling him. "Okay, thanks," he grunted. "I'll handle it. Thanks for…"
Bolan put a hand on the guy's arm and said, "First things first, Nick. You'll want to safe the investment. Right?"
"Naturally."
"You can still pull it out. That's all I'm suggesting. Leonetti is either at the bottom of the river or he's still around somewhere, under wraps. Either way, the product is here. In your territory. You've already paid for it. It's yours. Right?"
Copa was getting the anger under control. He said, "Go on. Say what you're saying, dammit."
"Don't tip our hand to Gordy. Tip mine." "Meaning what?"
"Drop it on him that I'm really looking for a secret shipment that came in with X. Tell him I almost have it wrapped. I checked in with you just for the courtesy."
Bolan wondered if he had pushed too hard. Copa was stiffening, mentally resisting. The response was troubled, thoughtful. "I never liked cat and mouse, Omega."
So Bolan pulled back. "Forget it, then. It's your territory and your problem. I just wanted you to know."
"I appreciate it, sure," said the boss. "You came a long way-I appreciate it."
They were now less than twenty paces from 'the barn. A hard looking guy stepped through the opening between the hanging doors, a submachine gun cradled at his chest. Bolan's mental mug file clicked to an immediate make. It was one Rudi Folani, an old pro who'd last been noted in the St. Louis area.
Bolan said to Copa, "God, you've dredged them from everywhere, haven't you?"
Copa growled, "I like to stick with the tried and true. But maybe it's not always such a good idea."
They were ten paces out when Bolan called ahead, "How's it swinging, Rudi?"
The guy did a double take as he replied, "There's still a few swings left in it, sir. Do I know you, sir?"
Bolan winked at Copa as he replied, "You'd better not."
Folani understood the meaning of that. It was an embarrassment, a breach of ritual. "Right, sir, I'm sorry."
Copa was still engaged in the inner struggle with his own troubles, but he seemed to be putting it all aside as he told Bolan, "Rudi is still the best of his kind, Omega. He never asks why or how. He only asks what."
"You're right," said Bolan-Omega. "They don't come like that in the new packages, do they?"
Folani did not mind being the subject of such praise. He stroked the auto, grinned at the lords of his realm, and went back inside.
"I meant it," said Copa, quietly. "Rudi's the best there is. And he's not so old. He's still mean as sin."
"Just don't give him much to think about," Bolan suggested.
"Oh, you're right there. I don't." The guy was loosening up. "But he's a perfect watchdog. The best. I say sit and he sits. I say hit and he hits. That's all I want from Rudi."
"That's all you need from Rudi," Bolan agreed. "Just keep him on the family jewels and you can rest your mind "
It was enough. Copa's gaze flicked to the barn as he responded to it. "You know about that, huh?" He chuckled, though without great humor. "You guys are the beatingest "
No, Bolan did not "know about that." But he was trying. "A bit here and a piece there, Nick," he explained while not explaining. "We haven't been nosing around. But we do hear things. You know?"
Yes, Nick knew. It was the Ace's duty to hear things. He said, "Right-you can't help that, I guess. Neither can I. Sometimes I-even-it's hard to keep a lid on, isn't it? The boys sometimes talk right out, in front of Mrs. Copa. I've told 'em and told 'em, and still they-what the hell can you do?"
"You keep her on a short leash, I guess," Bolan replied sympathetically.
"Right. That's all you can do. At least until I get it all safed. But-well I guess you noticed-it gets on her nerves. Hell, I hate that. But what can I do?"
The boss of Nashville was coming around, again. Not exactly jovial-but talkative, anyway. "You're doing it," Bolan assured him. "I wouldn't worry. She's a class lady. She'll pick up.”
"Oh sure."
"You can't afford to risk a misstep, now." "Hell no. I risk nothing."
Bolan could not nudge it beyond that. He, too, could not afford a misstep; he could not openly pry into the secrets of that barn.
Something else had become nudged loose during the exchange, though. The Mafia boss had relaxed somewhat and he seemed to be rethinking his problem with Crazy Gordy Mazzarelli.
"You think I should try drawing Gordy out, eh?"
"Hey, Nick, forget it. I didn't come to tell you how to-"
"No, no, come off that. You're the troubleshooter. How would you handle it?"
Bolan sighed and took a couple more steps toward the barn, He very deliberately produced a cigarillo and lit it while shaded eyes prohibited the secrets of that interior. Then he turned back to Copa and told him, "I wouldn't walk straight up and hit him on the mouth, Nick. That could be a costly piece of satisfaction. I’d cool it, and watch him, and wait my chance."
That other voice was barely audible as it plied, "Do it, then."
Bolan shifted his gaze about fifteen degrees to the right as he asked just as quietly, "Did I hear your fingers snap, Nick?"
"You did."
They both knew the meaning of that. The troubleshooter had just received a license to hunt from the Lord of the Hills.
Bolan-Omega said, "You understand-once I start, there's no calling it back."
Copa sighed and said, "Just do what you have to do to save the investment. But do it quietly."
Bolan glanced at his watch as the distant sound of copter blades stole into the moment. Time was up. Grimaldi was nearby.
He casually put a hand into his coat pocket and punched the button on the microradio as he told his host, "My chopper is coming. It's time to go. But I'll be around. You'll give Gordy my message?"
Copa's lips twisted into a wry smile, but the eyes did not know it. "Cheese for the rat, huh?"
Bolan grinned soberly. "You said that; I didn't."
"Yeah but you've been working on me to say it ever since you got here. Don't deny it." Bolan-Omega did not deny it. He said, "It's your territory, Nick."
"But it's your game," Copa said, still smiling wryly.
Bolan hoped that was true.
Yeah. He certainly hoped that it was.