California Hit by Don Pendleton Page A

was cute, very cute, and once a guy committed himself to that scene there would be no way out.
    Bolan was not about to commit himself.
    He pulled alongside the plug cruiser and stopped, then slid across the seat and rolled down the window. He said, "Hey man," and popped his gum at the guy.
    The uniformed cop at the wheel of the cruiser gave him a scowl and nothing else.
    Bolan scowled back and asked him, "What happened to Lombard? It was right here yesterday."
    The cop growled, "Beat it."
    "Don't freak out, man. I just want to know where Lombard Street is."
    "Get that crate out of here, you're blocking our view."
    "Well you could at least..."
    "Go ask a service station! Move on, right now!"
    Bolan said, "Amen man." He blew a bubble with the gum, casually raised the window, slid back behind the wheel, and sent the van creaking around the comer and away from the blockade.
    His recently abandoned "drop" — the old apartment building — was two short blocks dead ahead. Under the circumstances, the apartment now seemed to represent the lesser of two possible evils. Obviously he had not "beat the grid" — and, just as obviously, he would not do so in any sort of running play. That hill was crawling with cops equipped with cute games and full riot gear.
    One of the more important strategies of warfare was in knowing when to use your weapons, when to use your feet, and when to use your tail. Bight now seemed an appropriate occasion to use the tail.
    Bolan parked the warwagon a half-block from his building, locked it securely, and went the rest of the way on foot. He used the front entrance and the regular stairway, and he arrived at his own door on the third floor without incident.
    The smell of fresh coffee struck him as he pushed into the apartment. The Beretta met his hand halfway and led him around the corner into the kitchen.
    The China doll, wearing the same clothing and an entirely unsurprised smile, glanced at the Beretta Belle and cheerily announced, "Coffee's ready."
    'It was ready hours ago," he reminded her.
    "I threw that out. This is new."
    Bolan went on past her and shook the place down. It was clean. He returned to the entrance hall and closed the door, then he went into the living room to gaze glumly out the window. The police had finally closed on the DeMarco place, and blue uniforms were moving vigorously all around those distant grounds.
    The girl came up behind him and carefully halted several paces to the rear. She asked him, "Were those your fireworks I heard awhile ago?"
    He returned the Beretta to the sideleather, dropped tiredly into an overstuffed chair, and told the China doll, "Yeah. Special celebration, no charge to spectators."
    In a small voice she informed him, "I came in through the window."
    Bolan said, "Great. You can go out the same way."
    Instead she went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with two steaming mugs of coffee. "How do you take it?" she asked.
    "Strong, black, and not drugged."
    She laughed and pushed a mug at him. "You've seen too many movies."
    He accepted the coffee. "I haven't seen a movie in four years."
    She wrinkled her nose and sat down opposite him, daintily holding the oversized mug with both hands. "You haven't missed much. Skin is in, drama is out, comedy is sick, and sick is relevant."
    Bolan chuckled. He put down the coffee to light a cigarette, savored the invigorating smoke briefly, and expelled it in a tired whoosh. Then he asked the girl, "Why'd you come back?"
    "Wrong question," she replied solemnly.
    "What's the right one?"
    "Why did I leave."
    "Okay, why did you?"
    She tossed her head and said, "Give me one of those damn cigarettes."
    He tossed her the pack, then leaned forward to light her. When they had both settled down again, the China doll said, "I'll bet you never would have asked, would you."
    He shrugged. "You had a right. It's your neck."
    "I didn't leave because of my neck," she told him.
    "No?"
    "No." She sipped the coffee and worked at the