Free Violent Streets by Don Pendleton Page B

elaborately, making a show of ignorance.
    "Some dude, who knows? I told you it was an outside contract, right? The customer fingers his mark, and I count the dollar signs."
    "I'll want the customer's name."
    Benny Copa stiffened in his swivel chair, knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. There was new fear behind his eyes that had nothing to do with Bolan and the deadly silenced Beretta inches away from his nose.
    The guy was silent for a long moment, but in the end the fear of clear and present danger won out, loosening his tongue.
    "Really, man, I could buy real trouble by answering questions like that."
    And it seemed the guy would never quit trying.
    "You have trouble, Benny," Bolan reminded him curtly. "You're trying to buy time."
    There was another, shorter pause. Then Copa opened up.
    "Well, hey, I only know the dude's voice, can you dig it? We made the arrangements by phone."
    Bolan's answering voice was almost sad.
    "You commit five soldiers without knowing the customer's name? Goodbye, Benny."
    The Beretta slid out to full extension, and Bolan was tightening into the final squeeze when Copa gave a strangled little yelp and threw out both hands, palms open, as if to ward off hurtling death.
    "Wait! Shit! All right, man, I'm sorry."
    The Beretta never wavered from its target.
    "The name," Bolan said, his voice icy.
    Benny Copa was sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead with a shirtsleeve, but it didn't seem to help.
    "The name's Smalley," he almost whispered, "as in Roger. Satisfied?"
    "What is he to you?" Bolan asked.
    Copa looked incredulous at first, and then a canny little smile crept its way across his pale, damp face.
    "You really don't know, do you?" Benny said, shaking his head. "I'll be goddamned and go to hell."
    Bolan waited silently, ticking off the numbers in his head and staring at one round eye along the slide of his Beretta autoloader. Copa felt the vibrations of imminent death, and started talking again.
    "Roger Smalley, man... he's only the deputy P.C. for all of St. Paul, that's all."
    "So what was this Smalley character after? Why did he send you to the airport? No one knew I was coming in."
    Now it was Copa's turn to be genuinely in the dark. "We weren't after you, man. All I know about you is what's going down now... And that's enough, thanks."
    Bolan jammed the Brigadier's muzzle against the man's sweating nose. "Keep talking facts, little man. Who were you after? And why?"
    "The customer said something about a bad detective," replied Copa, fast. "He said this dick had kidnapped a girl from the hospital. I guessed we had some sort of vigilante on our hands, a guy getting away with all kinds of shit and embarrassing the Commissioner. But it was just a contract, don't you see? No big deal."
    Looking into Benny Copa's frightened eyes, he had no doubt the little guy was leveling with him.
    He lowered the Beretta a notch, maybe half a notch.
    "Okay, Benny," he said at last. "Live."
    Bolan backed away from the littered desk and toward the door opposite. He could see relief tempered with caution flood into Benny Copa's face and form. The little mobster was desperately wanting — hell, needing — to believe that he was off the hook, but he couldn't quite accept it so suddenly. As the final realization hit him, he started to regain a touch of his natural bravado.
    "Jesus, fella," he said, "you really had me going there."
    After a quick glance around at the bodies on the floor, he added, "You also left me a helluva mess to clean up."
    "Your problem, Benny," Bolan told him curtly. "You could have gone with them."
    Copa snorted, grinning from ear to ear.
    "Right, hell, buttons are everywhere... dime a dozen."
    The little hood seemed struck by a sudden inspiration.
    "Hey, wait," he called. "Maybe we can make another deal."
    Bolan paused in the doorway.
    "You've got nothing else I want, guy," he told the little cannibal.
    "Well, Jesus, hear me out, huh? I'll double what you're getting now. Name your