The Violent Streets

They crossed St. Paul in good time, heading northeast on East Seventh to Arcade Avenue, then north to the intersection of Maryland Avenue. That took them west to meet West Shore Drive at the foot of Phalen Park, and there Bolan slid his rental car to a halt beneath acopse of roadside trees.

He checked his watch and found that they were slightly more than five minutes ahead of Roger Smalley's timetable.

So much the better. They would have time to lay some tentative plans.

Bolan reached into the back seat and pulled forward his flight bag filled with clanking armament.

"Let's suit up," he said simply, his eyes locking briefly with Pol's.

Blancanales nodded agreement, reaching into the flight bag to check through the arms sequestered there, selecting a portable assortment of lethal hardware for himself.

"Even when you travel light, you come prepared," he said to Bolan, forcing a grin that he obviously didn't feel.

Bolan answered with a cold smile of his own.

"Name of the game, buddy."

And as they sorted out their arms and ammunition, Mack Bolan began to speak rapidly, outlining a plan of action with alternate contingencies, knowing all the while that the lives of Toni, Pol, and himself were resting on his words.

They would, all of them, be tested in fire soon enough.

19

The sleek black crew wagon sat on the grassy shoulder of West Shore Drive, facing north. Away to the right, or east, Lake Phalen was hidden from view behind a sheltering screen of trees and shrubbery.

Riding shotgun in the front, crew chief Da

Not that the other members of the crew seemed put out by the waiting. In the driver's seat beside him, Lou Nova was working his way through his third cigar of the morning, puffing contentedly away. In the back, gu

Da

The gu

The policewoman just glared at him silently.

Perfect, just perfect. Da

"Cool it, Solly," he drawled. "This ain't no social outing."

Chastised, the gu

"Sure, Da

Toppacardi turned back toward the front, staring at nothing through the Lincoln's broad windshield. Sure, he could understand and sympathize with the restlessness of his troops. They had been on station for fifteen minutes, waiting for Old Man Smalley to grace them with his presence and take the two broads off their hands. That was a long time to spend sitting out in broad daylight with two kidnapped women in the back seat. Too damn long, yeah.

Hell, Da

Fifteen minutes sitting in the park with nothing to look at but trees and birds, and one car that had cruised by a few minutes earlier, putting everybody on edge. No wonder Solly and Vince were feeling their oats back there with the broads.

Da

Another two minutes had passed, and Da

And Smalley took his own damn time about reaching the side of the car, finally getting there and leaning in through the window with his arms crossed on the sill, gri

"Ladies, I trust your accommodations were adequate," he said politely,

And the lady cop snapped back, "Go to hell, Smalley!"

Da

The crew chief's face was blank, impassive, as the assistant commissioner turned to address him for the first time.

"Any problems?" Smalley asked.

Da

"Nothin' we couldn't handle," he said. "What do you want us to do with the load?"

Smalley tossed another quick glance back toward the women.

"I should be taking them off your hands momentarily," he said.

As if on cue, another car rolled past them, easing to a stop some yards ahead of Smalley's vehicle. It bore no markings, but the four hardmen made it instantly as a police cruiser. They tensed reflexively, hands starting the casual slide toward hidden guns. Roger Smalley noted the reaction and tried to calm them with reassuring words.

"Relax," the commissioner said, "he's with me. There's no problem."

Da

Roger Smalley was gri

"I believe we're all ready now. If one of you gentlemen could help me escort the ladies to the lake..."

"That's me," Vi

Da

"Maybe next time, Solly," he said, playing it to the hilt. Solly Giuffre's answer was a husky growl.

Commissioner Smalley stepped back to make room as the two broads were half carried, half pulled out of the back seat. In another moment they were on the shoulder of the road, with Vince holding each one by an arm, gri

"Excellent," the commissioner said, turning to Da

"Yeah, yeah. Sure."

And that was all Da

He shook his head wearily, letting his breath out slowly in a long, disgusted sigh.

At age forty, he could remember the good old days when cops were bought off or frightened off or rubbed out. None of this kowtowing bullshit in those days, no sir. It wasn't right, somehow. He could feel it in his bones.

Da