Miami Massacre

Chapter Fourteen

Of death traps

Captain Ha

The Justice agent's ever-present smile hung on as he explained, "I'm just passing the word, captain — relax. The official request is coming down through cha

"Well you can think again," Ha

Dunlap shrugged and said, "It's not for Bolan's benefit, John. There's a hell of a delicate angle to this thing, and we . . ."

"I'm listening," Ha

Dunlap's smile lost the battle. He dropped into a chair and soberly inspected his fingernails. "A five-year undercover operation may be at stake. Brognola says he'll get cooperation if he has to go clear to the President."

"Uh-huh, Brognola's behind it," Ha

The agent doggedly shook his head. "Hell, no, I told you this wasn't for Bolan's benefit. But we've got a man in there, inside La Cosa Nostra, John. We're just trying to protect him. Wouldn't you?"

"The best way to do that would be to apprehend Bolan, wouldn't it? Does Bolan know who this guy is?"

Dunlap's frown deepened. "He does and he doesn't. I mean, if he meets him face to face, yes, he'll recognize him. We're not afraid of our man holding his own against Bolan. We're afraid of him getting pi

"Who's been telling me," Ha

"He hasn't in the past," Dunlap quietly replied. "In a fire fight, though, one guy looks pretty much like another. You go busting into Bolan's war, especially with a bunch of non-uniformed officers, most anything could happen."

"Well," Ha

"I know that, John. I was just advancing the word."

"If the chief says lay off, I'll have to lay off. If he doesn't, I'll be going in with everything I've got."

"Yes, I know that, too."

"How high up is this inside man of yours?"

"He has Family rank."

"What Family?"

Dunlap sighed. "You know I can't tell you that. He has an Eastern territory, I'll tell you that much. And, listen, you've seen the success we've been having up in that area. We've been setting them up and knocking them down just like-"

"Okay, okay," Ha

"He's trying to contact our man."

"To what effect?"

"To get him out of there, as gracefully as possible, until things quieten down."

"I'll make a deal," Ha

"What kind of a deal?"

"I'll hold off the Dade Force until Brognola gets your man out. If . . . if, Dunlap, you turn right around and scratch our back."

Dunlap said uncomfortably, "Damn, you do think like a cop, don't you. I know what you want, but go ahead and get it in the record. What sort of a back scratcher do we have to have, John?"

"I want to know where they are, all of them. A complete list, any place where Bolan might launch a hit. Now isn't that painless? Who could ask for a better deal than that?"

Dunlap was chewing it. He said, "I'll have to talk it up. I don't know. Anything that jeopardizes our man's cover is no deal at all. We go passing out Intel like that. . . Look, John, we don't gain anything by busting these people, and you know it. Their attorneys are downtown with writs before we can get the cell doors closed. We're building cases, John, not harassment proceedings. Bolan's been a great help in that area, also. They're all so jittery, they're making mistakes. Like-"

"Well, you go talk it up, Dunlap. We're almost ready to roll. With or without your help, see, we know a few places where Bolan might show up."

"The Kirkpatrick woman?"

Ha

"Nope. Made a deal with her, too. We turn our back on her, uh, delicate indiscretions, also take her word that she spoke to Bolan only after the Sandbank hit and under duress."

"You could hold her," Dunlap pointed out, "as an accessory to the Plaza job."

"Sure, but for what gain? Hell, I believe her story. She gave us what we wanted, we gave her what she wanted. No booking, no notoriety, and she gets out of Miami on the first available flight."

"You're not even interested in her as a material witness," Dunlap observed. "That says plenty right there. You don't expect to take Bolan alive."

Ha

"I believe he'll fight you only if forced to," the agent replied evenly. He got to his feet. "No deal, Ha

"Not even for the life of your own Mafioso?"

Dunlap said, "Get screwed, Ha

The captain stared morosely at the vacant doorway, then dropped into his chair and swiveled about to gaze through the window, his face a study in frustration. He placed the pipe in his mouth and bit down savagely, winced, then removed it and depressed a button on his intercom. "Tell Lt. Wilson I want him in here double quick," he snapped.

The report came back, "He checked out, captain. Said he'd be gone about thirty minutes."

"Say where he's going?"

"I believe he's taking the Kirkpatrick woman home. Want me to try a radio contact?"

Ha

He flipped off the intercom and turned back to the window. Barter a life away, eh? What the hell did Stewart Dunlap know about bartering lives? For the first time in a long time, Captain Ha

Executioner? Ha

Ha

He went back to the desk, put on his coat, grabbed his hat, and went out. Captain John Ha

The "confused kid" from Vietnam did not feel at all confused at the moment. He knew precisely what he was doing. Before the hell broke, he needed a name . . . the name of a boat which sometimes hosted parties for visiting Mafia dignitaries. There would not be time, once the assault was underway, to run about seeking directions to the next front. He left his car discreetly parked one street over from Jean Kirkpatrick's place on Palmetto Lane and, stripped to the night suit, made his way quietly between the neat stucco houses, across the alleyway, and over the fence into the Kirkpatrick rear yard.