been busy busy busy, haven't you."
Bolan chuckled. "They yelling?" he asked.
"At the very limit of their lungs, that's all. There's a warrant for you. Arson, assault, assault with intent, attempted murder-shall I go on?"
"Naw, save it," Bolan suggested. "There'll be a lot more to add before the day is done."
The detective's tone was plainly troubled. "Why'd you call, Bolan?"
"I want to ask a favor."
"Oh? You want to turn yourself in? That's about the best favor I can offer-the lockup."
Bolan was chuckling. "Not hardly. I'd like for you to move my brother into the police ward at the hospital."
"Oh, I did that early this morning."
"Very thoughtful of you," Bolan said, his voice revealing his surprise.
"Yeah, I think of a lot of things," the cop told him. "Like-you've really managed to isolate yourself from the world, haven't you."
"Maybe."
"Maybe, hell. You've torn it good, Sergeant. Everybody wants you now, even the military. CID men just left here."
"You sure lost no time calling
them
in." Bolan was plainly miffed.
"Uh- uh, not me. Somebody with political influence blew the whistle, no doubt. They're running scared, Bolan."
"You don't sound too mad at me."
"I'm not. I'm tickled to death. Unofficially, of course. Also unofficially there's a lot of people down here rooting for you. Don't expect any official sympathy, though. As far as the law's concerned, Bolan, you're just as rotten as the best of them-and let me assure you... uh, just a minute..."
Bolan could hear the vague rumble of background voices, then the Lieutenant was back on the line. "You been out in the Portal area lately?" he asked, the voice somewhat brisker.
"Could be."
"Near the home of a Walter Seymour?"
"Maybe."
"Uh- huh. Well..." More background noises, then: "You can add two counts of first-degree murder to that warrant. You'd better come on in now, Bolan. This thing has gone far enough."
"Not nearly."
"Huh?"
"Not nearly far enough. It's unconditional warfare, Weatherbee. You may as well understand that. And listen. Don't send any plainclothes cops in my direction. I'll shoot anything that moves against me, unless I can clearly identify the law."
"You wouldn't shoot a cop, eh?"
"I'd rather not. Well-I have a crowded schedule, better bug off. I've enjoyed the chat."
"Bolan- that informant I was telling you about..."
"Yeah?"
"He's on my other line right now. Like to hear some more interesting information?"
Bolan chuckled. "I love gossip."
Weatherbee cleared his throat heavily. "You may not love this tidbit. That contract has been expanded. Not ten minutes ago. It is now open season on one Mack-the-Knife Bolan, with every hood in the East joining the game. You are now worth a hundred gee's, dead in the street, buddy. How do you like them apples?"
"So, they
are
running scared."
"You dumb bastard, can't you see what you've done? You're attracting every gunsel in ten states into our town."
"That's exactly what I want," Bolan clipped back. "Now you cops are going to have to move off the sidelines, aren't you."
"Bolan, you're a lunatic! You-"
"I'm a catalyst, Lieutenant! I've smoked a ratpack out from under their cover of respectability-and now you're going to have to do something about them, aren't you!"
The detective's angry voice rattled the telephone receiver. "We're going to do something about you too, Bolan."
"So we understand each other," The Executioner replied levelly.
"Yeah, we understand each other. But Bolan..."
"I'm still here."
"Don't shoot a cop."
"I'd rather not."
"You'd better not! Like I said, you've got some unofficial sympathy down here right now, but..."
"We understand each other," Bolan clipped. He hung up, grinning, and returned to the car. A glance at his watch informed him that the time was 4:40. He would just about have time to make it over to the Triangle office. His smile broadened and he started the engine and eased into the rush-hour traffic. He thought of Weatherbee and chuckled, feeling a
Bolan chuckled. "They yelling?" he asked.
"At the very limit of their lungs, that's all. There's a warrant for you. Arson, assault, assault with intent, attempted murder-shall I go on?"
"Naw, save it," Bolan suggested. "There'll be a lot more to add before the day is done."
The detective's tone was plainly troubled. "Why'd you call, Bolan?"
"I want to ask a favor."
"Oh? You want to turn yourself in? That's about the best favor I can offer-the lockup."
Bolan was chuckling. "Not hardly. I'd like for you to move my brother into the police ward at the hospital."
"Oh, I did that early this morning."
"Very thoughtful of you," Bolan said, his voice revealing his surprise.
"Yeah, I think of a lot of things," the cop told him. "Like-you've really managed to isolate yourself from the world, haven't you."
"Maybe."
"Maybe, hell. You've torn it good, Sergeant. Everybody wants you now, even the military. CID men just left here."
"You sure lost no time calling
them
in." Bolan was plainly miffed.
"Uh- uh, not me. Somebody with political influence blew the whistle, no doubt. They're running scared, Bolan."
"You don't sound too mad at me."
"I'm not. I'm tickled to death. Unofficially, of course. Also unofficially there's a lot of people down here rooting for you. Don't expect any official sympathy, though. As far as the law's concerned, Bolan, you're just as rotten as the best of them-and let me assure you... uh, just a minute..."
Bolan could hear the vague rumble of background voices, then the Lieutenant was back on the line. "You been out in the Portal area lately?" he asked, the voice somewhat brisker.
"Could be."
"Near the home of a Walter Seymour?"
"Maybe."
"Uh- huh. Well..." More background noises, then: "You can add two counts of first-degree murder to that warrant. You'd better come on in now, Bolan. This thing has gone far enough."
"Not nearly."
"Huh?"
"Not nearly far enough. It's unconditional warfare, Weatherbee. You may as well understand that. And listen. Don't send any plainclothes cops in my direction. I'll shoot anything that moves against me, unless I can clearly identify the law."
"You wouldn't shoot a cop, eh?"
"I'd rather not. Well-I have a crowded schedule, better bug off. I've enjoyed the chat."
"Bolan- that informant I was telling you about..."
"Yeah?"
"He's on my other line right now. Like to hear some more interesting information?"
Bolan chuckled. "I love gossip."
Weatherbee cleared his throat heavily. "You may not love this tidbit. That contract has been expanded. Not ten minutes ago. It is now open season on one Mack-the-Knife Bolan, with every hood in the East joining the game. You are now worth a hundred gee's, dead in the street, buddy. How do you like them apples?"
"So, they
are
running scared."
"You dumb bastard, can't you see what you've done? You're attracting every gunsel in ten states into our town."
"That's exactly what I want," Bolan clipped back. "Now you cops are going to have to move off the sidelines, aren't you."
"Bolan, you're a lunatic! You-"
"I'm a catalyst, Lieutenant! I've smoked a ratpack out from under their cover of respectability-and now you're going to have to do something about them, aren't you!"
The detective's angry voice rattled the telephone receiver. "We're going to do something about you too, Bolan."
"So we understand each other," The Executioner replied levelly.
"Yeah, we understand each other. But Bolan..."
"I'm still here."
"Don't shoot a cop."
"I'd rather not."
"You'd better not! Like I said, you've got some unofficial sympathy down here right now, but..."
"We understand each other," Bolan clipped. He hung up, grinning, and returned to the car. A glance at his watch informed him that the time was 4:40. He would just about have time to make it over to the Triangle office. His smile broadened and he started the engine and eased into the rush-hour traffic. He thought of Weatherbee and chuckled, feeling a
Similar Books
