Vegas Vendetta

"Tell him to tighten up that damn sieve!"

"It's getting tougher all the time, boss. Cops are thick as flies out there."

"I don't give a shit about the cops!" Pat Talifero yelled. 'How many places can a guy hide in this creep town? You tell those boys to — okay, send the jerk in."

"Sir?"

"The hotel jerk, let's observe the formalities, I guess."

"Yessir."

The guy faded out.

"Those guys aren't trying hard enough!" Pat fumed. "I believe they're all scared they will stumble on the guy!"

Mike shrugged and threw his cigar away. "He'll stumble over us."

"You keep saying that!"

"He will."

A suave man of about forty appeared through the doorway. "They told me I'd find you out here," he said jovially.

Pat disliked the man instantly. He despised that soft pink pampered look some of these guys had. "You found us," he said. "What do you want?"

"Just, uh, wanted to make sure you're comfortable and all."

"And all what?"

The guy's face fell. He said, "It's part of the VIP package, Mr. Talifero. I always look in on honored guests."

"All right, you looked. Thanks. Goodbye."

"I, uh…" The man took a step toward the doorway, then turned back and blurted, "Do you know the new casino boss?"

"What new casino boss?"

"Well… I was wondering… he's setting up the house."

"He who?"

"I believe the name is Vinton, a Mr. Vinton. It's the talk of the Strip, I wondered if you'd heard. He actually closed the casino."

"Closed it?"

"Yes, until midnight. They're starting the new books at midnight Until then, the drinks art on the house. And continuous entertainment. I just wondered if you knew."

"Stop wondering, Mr. Crosser," Mike said. "Goodnight, Mr. Crosser."

The guy murmured, "Goodnight," and took his leave.

The brothers stared at each other for a moment, then Mike said, "Well, that was pretty quick. I passed the word east just a few hours ago."

"They can move fast when they want to," Pat replied, shrugging "You remember when Bugsy got his."

"Sure, but that was set up," Mike said. "They had time to run someone in beforehand. But this time…"

"Maybe we should go talk to this new blood," Pat said. "He should check with us before he goes boarding up the place."

"Why? That's not our action."

"At a time like this, everything is our action."

"May as well get a free drink anyway, eh?" the bodyguard said.

Mikt frowned at that and declared, "Hell, I don't want our boys sopping that stuff up." He stood up, stretched, and rubbed his belly. "I never heard of this Vinton. Did you?"

"Not by that name, no. Let's go talk to him."

"Okay. But you'll find he's just another green felt jerk."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Pat said. He flipped his cigar over the railing, showed his brother a smile, and said, "Let's go see."

Chapter Fifteen

All bets in

Bolan told the controller, "Don't give me that noise! You pull it outta the goddam vault and you count it!"

"Mr. Vinton," the flustered man protested, "we have certified..."

"You shove your certifieds up your own ass, not mine!" Bolan roared. "A new deal gets a new deck, don't it?"

"The house stakes, sir, are..."

Bolan grabbed the guy by the throat and shook him until his eyes were rolling Then he threw him back against the wall. "You're making me wonder, controller," he said, in a voice quivering with pretended rage. "Just what th' hell're you trying to cover up?"

"We'll count it, sir," the terrified man agreed.

"I wanta see it with my own eyes, all 375-thou' of it. I wanta see it sitting there on the counting tables, and, it better be there in ten minutes when I get down there! You hear me?"

The guy heard him.

Bolan growled, "Now get outta here!"

The mob controller threw a last desperate look at the sleeping figure of Joe Sta

The tagman jerked around with a grin. "Yes boss?"

"What time you got?"

"Uh… eight thirty, boss."

"Right. At eight forty you remind me what time it is."

"Sure boss."

"I'm waking the sleeping beauty up now. You see he gets down the stairs okay."

The smile broadened. "Sure boss."

Bolan closed the door, went over to the mirror and checked his appearance, put the hat on and rolled the brim down — then he went to the couch, grabbed one of Joe Sta

The FBI district chief leaned into the car and told Brognola, "I've been looking all over for you. Where've you been?"

"Prospecting," the Justice official replied tiredly. "Get in, Bill."

"No, I'm taking a force to the Gold Duster. Something fu

"All over this town," Brognola said, sighing, "something fu

"Check up," Miller said, gri

"What is it?"

"Well, you've heard the talk, it's all over the Strip."

"Aposti

"One of my insiders at the Duster reports that the new boss has hit the scene. He'sj closed the casino until midnight and he's setting up drinks all around."

"That's fu

"The fu

Brognola nodded. "The town's full of them."

"Well…"

"It fits." Brognola said, sighing. "The hit on Vito was obviously a thing of the moment. So the brothers have obligingly put in a substitute until the next jerk shows up."

"Well, there's one more thing," Miller said. "I know it sounds pretty far out but… well, my man says…"

"Yeah?"

"Hal, you're the Bolan expert. Would the guy try a stunt like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like masquerading as a guy called Vinton."

Brognoia stared silently at the other man for a long moment, then he replied "He sure would."

"To what possible damned end?"

Brognola shrugged. "Let's go ask him."

"I mean, closing th< joint and setting up drinks half the night… that sounds pretty flamboyant, even for Bolan."

"He's a shrewd warrior," Brognola said. "Everything he does is to the numbers. How much of a force are you taking?"

"I've gathered up ten men."

"You'd better gather up a lot more. What were you going to tell me? Something about your man at the Duster."

"He says it's hard to get a good look at the guy. Vinton. He keeps moving, waves his arms around a lot, always seems to find a shadow for his face. Wearing lenses and bandages also. But he's the right size, the right build, and roughly the right age."

"Uh, I'll get right down there," Brognola said. "You find my sidekick and tell him to get those marshals down there, all of them, and tell them to warm up their sharpshooter fingers. Get the locals to put a cordon around the place, very quietly, I mean like two men per square foot. Set up roadblocks. Send those horseback volunteers down there, too, semi-circle them on the desert side."

"It's going to make us look awful damn silly if..."

"Don't worry about that, we'd look even sillier with Bolan treating the town right beneath our noses. Anyway, my hackles are rising and I believe they're getting the Bolan scent."

"The guy has pulled these wild stunts before, hasn't he?"

"You bet your badge he has. Remind me to tell you about Palm Springs some day."

"Be careful, Hal."

"Yeah." Brognola threw the car into gear and screeched out of the parking lot with rubber burning.