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"We can't just go without her?" Bolan asked quietly.
"Well . . ." The surgeon wavered. "It's a . . ."
"I've seen you go it alone with the Cong howling all around us."
"Those were emergency conditions," Brantzen said fretfully.
"This isn't?" Bolan asked, gri
The surgeon stared at Bolan for a thoughtful moment. He smiled suddenly and said, "Okay, Sergeant, let's get the patient prepped for surgery. Come on, man, move, move, move."
Bolan got to his feet and thrust the sketch at Brantzen. "The patient is ready and waiting, Doctor," he said.
Chapter Six
The balance
Once a jumping-off spot for hopeful prospectors heading into the Death Valley area, Palm Village had until recently evolved uneventfully into a typical desert-edge trade center serving a sparse agricultural area. Removed from major highway routes and largely untouched by 20th-century progress during the first half of the century, the quiet village had found new life in the desert-land boom of the fifties and sixties. An invasion by promoters and developers had threatened to convert the tranquil community into a second Palm Springs until conservative city fathers invoked legislative powers to cool the pace of progress. As a result, Palm Village was moving calmly along the path of controlled development, retaining much of its original charm while swelling gently into a quiet residential community of retired folk and health-seekers.
The original village square, referred to as "Lodetown," had stoutly resisted all civilizing inroads of the 20th century. It was composed mainly of oldtime saloons and beerhalls which were frequented by farmhands and cowboys from the surrounding area, and was the chief source of Palm Village's crime statistics, most of the trouble developing on Saturday nights and limited to "drunk and disorderlies" and an occasional fistfight. Lodetown boasted a quite stable population of prostitutes, each of them well known by local authorities. All were arrested each Sunday morning, fined $21.20, and released. This was an effective arrangement, considered entirely fair by the girls involved, satisfactory to the demands of law and order, and consistent with the city fathers' concept of "logic and reason." Besides, the weekly fines easily covered the entire expense of policing Lodetown.
Robert (Genghis) Co
It had not been a progressive move for Co
On that hot desert morning of October 5th, however, "Genghis" Co
"Is it always this hot here?" Captain Tim Braddock complained. He passed a hand across his forehead and squinted into the cloudless sky. "How the hell do you stand it?"
"It's only a hundred and two," Co
Braddock nudged Carl Lyons in ahead; the three lawmen stepped into air-conditioned comfort and moved along a narrow hallway past a door marked CITY CLERK and through a swinging door at the rear. The air conditioning ended here, in Co
"This the jail?" Lyons asked.
"That's it," Co
His visitors had seated themselves; Lyons on a tattered leather couch at the wall, Braddock perching on the edge of a desk. Co
Braddock replied, "Call it a hunch. How many officers on your force, Chief?"
"Twelve," Co
Braddock shifted his weight uncomfortably and said, "We put out a full poop sheet on Bolan more than a week ago. We were hoping to get the full cooperation from the outlying communities. If you'd just sounded a Hardcase alert last night when the shooting occurred, Genghis, we'd be some valuable hours closer to Bolan right now."
Co
Braddock tossed a hopeless glance at his young sergeant, sighed, and said, "Let me bring a squad in here, Genghis."
Following a short silence, Co
"What provisions?"
"You don't bust my town. Meaning, you don't disturb the balance we got here. Law enforcement in this town is strictly my business. You want Bolan . . . okay, you come in and get him, if you can. But you don't bust my town in the process, and you don't bother any of our citizens."
"Of course," the Captain grunted. "That goes without saying."
"And you march every one of your men in here and let my people get a good look at 'em"