Battle Mask

"They who?" the surgeon asked, though he knew the answer.

"The hounds, the Mafia hounds. They're around, I can feel it."

Brantzen sighed and said, "Yeah, you're right, I guess. They've already been here. I wasn't going to tell you, but . . . well . . . if you're determined to go out there, Mack, don't stop to talk to any book salesmen."

"That's their trick, eh?" Bolan was getting his gear together.

"That's the trick. The two who were here were very clumsy about it. Offered to donate a set of their books for my waiting room if I'd let them come in and pitch to my in-patients. I told them I was empty at the moment. I am, in fact. Then they . . ."

"They tumble to what kind of place this is?" Bolan asked quickly.

Brantzen shook his head. "I doubt that very much. They seemed to think I was ru

"Did you see them come out?" Bolan asked, his tone ominous.

Brantzen shook his head in a silent reply.

"Show me the house. Then show me how to get out of here without being seen from that house, and then . . ."

Bolan was interrupted by a light rapping at the door. He swung against the wall as Brantzen answered the summons. Bolan caught a quick glimpse of a pretty woman in a white uniform as she a

Brantzen nodded and said, "I'll be right along," and pushed the door shut. "Goddammit," he whispered. "Genghis Co

A flurry of sounds denoting a light scuffle came from beyond the door; then it opened again and a tall man in a khaki uniform stepped into the room, holding a gray desert felt hat in both hands. "I told the little lady it was an unofficial visit, Doc," he said in a soft voice. He smiled genially at Brantzen, then his eyes shifted to Bolan, who was frozen at the wall. The policeman's gaze bounced off the bulge of the weapon, concealed beneath a folded jacket draping Bolan's arm, and returned to the surgeon's flustered countenance.

"Everybody relax," Co

"I . . . I'm with a patient, Genghis," Brantzen declared testily.

"I can see that." Co

Bolan returned to the recliner and eased onto it, half relaxing into the cushions, the jacket still in place across one arm. "It's okay, Jim," Bolan murmured.

The policeman said, "Sure, it's okay, I just stopped by to gab. The doc and I have spent many pleasant moments swapping ideas about war and peace. That right, Doc?"

Brantzen woodenly nodded his head, moved jerkily to a chair, and perched tensely on its edge, his hands clasped across one knee.

"We both abhor violence." Co

Brantzen again nodded his head. "You run a quiet town, Genghis," he said stiffly.

"Damn right. Mean for it to stay that way, too." The gaze swung to Bolan. "Have you committed any crimes in my town, Mister?"

Bolan said, "None that I can think of."

Co

Bolan said, "I was just leaving."

Co

Bolan exchanged glances with Brantzen. The surgeon gave a tight nod. "Just follow my instructions to the letter and you'll be all right. A dry icepack will control swelling and reduce pain. Keep it dry, though. And leave the covers until they fall off. If you notice any inflammation around the edges, get to a doctor immediately?" He jumped to his feet and pulled Bolan's suitcase from a corner. "I'll help you outside."

"I'm parked out back," Co

Brantzen overtook his patient, moving alongside as they strolled across the lobby. He thrust a pair of oversize sunglasses at Bolan and said, "You might want to use them. They'll conceal most of the patchwork."

Bolan grunted his thanks and added, in a low voice, "Is this guy for real?"

"I don't know, "Brantzen replied in a hoarse whisper. "He's an odd one. Never could figure him. I believe he knows who you are, though."

"Sure he does," Bolan quietly muttered. "Well . . . guess I'll just play it by ear. Thanks again, Jim. And take care of that envelope for me, eh?"

The surgeon jerked his head and said, "I was talking to the hospital less than an hour ago. The old man's going to make it."

"Great. He'll need the money." They paused in the doorway. Co

"You thanked me years ago. Just keep an eye on Genghis Co

"I'm getting a good feeling about Co

Co

"That's your decision," Bolan replied tautly. "Your town, Chief, is crawling with undesirables."

"Don't I know it." Co

The jackhammers were begi

"I'll drop you outside of town, Mister," Co

"No worry there," Bolan quipped. "Hell has a way of following me around."

"I guess you invited it, Mister."

"I guess I did."

The Executioner's hell also had a way of lying in wait for him. The police car had swung around the rear corner of the New Horizons and was straightening into the tree-shaded lane ru

"That Goddamn Braddock!" Co

Bolan's jacket had already dropped away, revealing the small chattergun. "They're not cops!" he snapped, slumping in the seat and getting a good grip on the door latch. The sudden movement sent shivers of agony into his fast-awakening face.