Startled, the mousy mobster was caught off guard. The door struck him in the chest and knocked him onto the ground.
Blade was on the mobster like a pouncing panther. He leaped and landed with his right knee folded, his leg hard, ramming the knee into the mobster’s abdomen. The man grunted and turned red, gasping for air.
The skinny one reacted incredibly swiftly, his left hand going for a Smith and Wesson tucked in his waistband. He never pulled it.
Geronimo reached the skinny mobster in three bounds, the tomahawk glinting in the sunlight. He delivered a resounding blow to the left side of the mobster’s head with the flat of his weapon, splitting the skin and staggering the mobster but leaving the skinny man alive.
Blade placed the point of his right Bowie next to the mousy mobster’s left eye. “Why were you following us?” he demanded.
“Wasn’t…” the man replied, wheezing.
Hickok and Helen moved past Blade and Geronimo to cover the alley entrance.
“I won’t ask again,” Blade stated harshly. “Who are you? Why were you following us?”
“I wasn’t!” Mousy replied angrily.
Blade cut him. He slashed the Bowie across the man’s left cheek, leaving an inch-deep slit.
Mousy started to shriek.
Blade pressed his left hand over Mousy’s mouth. “Don’t make a sound or you’re dead!”
Mousy’s brown eyes widened fearfully.
Blade looked up. Hickok and Helen were near the alley mouth, blocking the view of the passersby. Skinny was clutching the wound to his head, blood seeping over his fingers. The mobster’s hat had fallen to the ground.
Geronimo held the tomahawk aloft, prepared to strike again if necessary.
Perfect.
He could concentrate on his interrogation.
Blade grinned down at the small mobster. “Now you were saying? Why were you following us?” He lifted his left hand.
Mousy took a gulp of putrid alley air. “Told to!” he blurted. “Orders!”
“Orders from whom?” Blade demanded.
“Orders from Kenney,” Mousy disclosed.
“And who is Kenney?” Blade queried.
“Kenney is Don Giorgio’s right-hand man,” Mousy explained. “We were at the casino a while ago when a call came in. Somebody whacked Giorgio’s son, Franky—”
“I know,” Blade interrupted. “We did.”
“You admit it?” Mousy asked in astonishment. “You must be wacko!”
“Keep talking,” Blade stated.
“Kenney got a description of you guys,” Mousy detailed. “He told us to tail you. We cruised the strip until I spotted you, then we parked and tailed you on foot.”
“What were you supposed to do? Kill us?” Blade inquired.
“Just follow you,” Mousy said.
Blade smirked. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Honest!” Mousy asserted. “We were ordered to follow you, make a note of places you stopped at and the people you talked to, and call in a report every hour.”
“Does Giorgio want revenge for the death of his son?” Blade asked.
“I haven’t talked to Don Giorgio,” Mousy replied. “I talked to Kenney.
But if you’re asking my opinion, yeah. Giorgio won’t stand still for the racking of Franky. He’ll probably ask Don Pucci for a sanction to snuff you guys.”
“We don’t want to fight Don Giorgio,” Blade commented.
“I’ll bet you don’t!” Mousy said scornfully.
“Can you tell him that?” Blade queried.
“Sure,” Mousy responded. “But it won’t do no good. You killed his son. Blood talks, you know.”
“And there’s nothing I could say or do to convince Don Giorgio to leave us alone?” Blade questioned.
“Leave you alone? Not on your life!” Mousy declared.
Blade frowned, irritated by the turn of events. As if rescuing Mindy wasn’t enough of a problem, now he had to contend with a vengeful Don!
“You’ve got two choices,” Mousy said. “You can play it smart and get the hell out of Vegas, or you can stay and die. It’s that simple.”
“There’s one more option,” Blade noted.
“What’s that?” Mousy asked.
“I can kill Don Giorgio if he doesn’t leave us alone,” Blade stated.
Despite his wounded left cheek, Mousy laughed, “Kill Don Giorgio? You’re out of your mind!”
Blade slowly stood. “Where is Giorgio’s headquarters?”
“Where else? The Don hangs out at his place,” Mousy divulged. “He has his own casino, just like all the other Dons.”
“What’s the name of Giorgio’s casino?” Blade demanded.
“Johnny’s Palace,” Mousy answered.
Blade’s eyes narrowed. “One more question. Where does Don Pucci hang out?”
“At the Golden Crown Casino, mostly,” Mousy said. “Why?”
“None of your business,” Blade replied. “On your feet.”
Mousy complied.
Blade wagged his right Bowie in front of the mobster’s eyes. “I want you to relay a message to Don Giorgio. Tell him I’m coming after him.”
“You’re what?” Mousy blurted in disbelief.
“Tell Giorgio I’m coming after him since he can’t leave well enough alone,” Blade directed. “Tell him I’ll be at his Palace soon.”
Mousy’s mouth dropped. “You won’t last three seconds.”
“Just tell him,” Blade snapped. “And tell him this. If he’s a man and not a coward, he’ll meet me one on one.”
Mousy made a clucking sound. “What a jerk! I’ll relay your message, and I hope I’m there when the Don creams you.”
“Get out of here,” Blade commanded.
Mousy turned and started from the alley. He paused next to Skinny.
“What about my buddy?”
“Take him with you,” Blade said.
Geronimo looked at Blade. “Awwww, gee! I was hoping I could split his head open. Can I? Huh? Can I? Pretty please?”
Blade barely suppressed a laugh. “No.”
“Darn!” Geronimo exclaimed wistfully.
Mousy gawked at Geronimo. “You’re wacko, Indian! All of you are flat-out crazy!”
Geronimo beamed. “You really think so?”
Mousy and Skinny moved toward the alley entrance.
Hickok suddenly blocked their path, the Henry in his hands. He aimed the barrel at Mousey’s face. “Hold it!”
“What’s the matter?” Mousy queried nervously. “The guy with the knife said we could go.”
“Is that a wart on your nose?” Hickok asked.
“A what?”
“A wart,” Hickok reiterated. “I’m not partial to warts. I plug ’em every chance I get. If that’s a wart on your nose, I’ll have to shoot it off.”
Mousy gazed back at Blade and Geronimo, then stared at Helen for a second. “Lunatics! I’m surrounded by lunatics!”
“Is that a wart?” Hickok repeated.
“There’s no damn wart on my nose!” Mousy said anxiously.
“Oh.” Hickok lowered the Henry. “In that case, have a real nice day.” He bowed and motioned toward the main street.
Mousy grabbed Skinny’s right arm. “Come on! We’re getting the hell out of here!”
The two mobsters ran from the alley and disappeared.
Helen began laughing.
Blade and Geronimo joined their colleagues.
“Were you serious about going after Don Giorgio?” Hickok asked.
Blade replaced the right Bowie in its sheath. “Of course not. I wanted to buy us time to find Mindy. If Giorgio expects us at his Palace, he might drop the tails. We should have a few hours before he gets suspicious.”
Hickok chuckled. “By the time the cow chip realizes we’re not comin’, we’ll be long gone with Mindy.”
“I hope,” Blade said.
Geronimo slid the tomahawk under his belt. “So now we
find Mindy,” he remarked with determination.
“About time,” Helen muttered.
Hickok looked up and noticed Blade was thoughtfully chewing on his lower lip. “What’s buggin’ you?”
“Something is not right,” Blade said.
“Like what?” Hickok questioned.
Blade frowned. “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. There’s something I’m missing.”
“It’ll come to you,” Hickok said. “Give it time.”
“I guess you’re right,” Blade argued. He stared at Helen. “Let’s go rescue your daughter.”
“And keep your eyes peeled,” Hickok told Helen.
Helen gazed at the gunman quizzically. “For what?”
“Mobsters with warts. I can use some target practice,” Hickok commented.
Helen simply rolled her eyes heavenward.
CHAPTER NINE
“What’s that, pard?” Hickok asked.
The four Warriors stood near an intersection over a half mile from the alley.
Blade flipped through the pages of the small black book he’d removed from his right rear pocket. “I found this on the body of the stranger killed at the scene of Mindy’s abduction. I’m double-checking the address for the Golden Crown Casino. That’s where Pucci told Ted we’d find Mindy. And the mobster in the alley confirmed the Golden Crown Casino is Pucci’s personal casino.”
“We never did figure out why the stranger was killed,” Geronimo mentioned.
“Maybe Pucci will tell us,” Hickok said.
Blade found the address he wanted, then closed the black book and returned it to his rear pocket, slipping the book alongside the wad of two thousand dollars and the piece of blue plastic. “This is the correct boulevard. The Golden Crown Casino should be just up ahead.”
Helen hefted her Carbine. “I pray she’s all right.”
“She will be,” Hickok assured her.
“Let’s go,” Blade declared.
The quartet crossed the intersection.
“Any sign of a tail?” Blade inquired.
Geronimo, bringing up the rear, shook his head. “Nope. Don Giorgio must be waiting for us at his casino.”
Blade scrutinized the buildings ahead as he sauntered along the sidewalk. They passed several casinos, liquor stores, one food store, and a gas station crammed with cars. He stared at the pumps, puzzled. Where did the mobsters obtain their fuel? Gasoline was a precious commodity elsewhere; the Civilized Zone and California stringently accounted for every gallon. Las Vegas, though, possessed gas in abundance. He gazed up at a flickering neon sign. There was another rarity: electrical power. The Outlands were totally devoid of such a luxury, and even California and the Civilized Zone, where generating plants were scrupulously maintained, were forced to conserve their usage, primarily supplying power to the urban centers.
The mobsters, though, were under no such limitations.
How did they do it?
Blade walked ten more yards and happened to glance at a casino sign fifty yards distant.
THE GOLDEN CROWN CASINO.
“Blade,” Geronimo said, his alert eyes having already spied the sign.
“I see it,” Blade stated, halting.
“See what?” Helen inquired.
Blade pointed toward the sign.
Helen took one look and started to head for it.
“Hold it,” Blade directed, gripping her right wrist.
Helen angrily attempted to pull free. “Let me go! Mindy is in there!”
“We need a plan,” Blade said.
“Plan, hell! I want to go to Mindy!” Helen snapped.
“Calm down!” Blade instructed her.
Helen’s lips tightened, but she relaxed her arm. “Okay. What do we do?”
“We can’t all go in at once,” Blade said. “Pucci would spot us too easily.”
“Do you suppose he has our descriptions?” Geronimo asked.
“Could be,” Blade said. “Remember, he asked for me by name. He must have some idea of how I look.”
“Yeah,” Hickok quipped. “It isn’t every day you run into a seven-foot giant with big ears.”
“His ears are no bigger than your mouth,” Geronimo cracked.
“We’ll go in two at a time,” Blade proposed. “Geronimo and I will go in first. Hickok, give us three minutes and come in with Helen.”
“I want to go in with you,” Helen said to Blade.
“No.”
“Why not?” Helen questioned in annoyance.
“Because I know you,” Blade said. “If you spot Mindy in there, you’ll start shooting every mobster in sight. I’m going in first to see if she’s there.”
“I’ll watch over Helen,” Hickok promised.
Blade inspected the Commando, insuring the safety was off. “Then let’s get to it.”
“Not so fast,” Geronimo cautioned. “We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Blade asked.
Geronimo nodded at the opposite sidewalk. “See for yourself.”
Blade turned, surveying the far sidewalk, perplexed until he recognized two faces in the seething crowd. “Damn!” he exclaimed.
Mousy and two other mobsters were standing on the opposite walk, and Mousy was gesturing at the Warriors and talking rapidly.
“Where’d he come from?” Hickok queried. “How’d he get here so fast?”
“He had a car, remember?” Blade reminded the gunman.
Mousy and his two companions unexpectedly began running, rudely shoving pedestrians aside, heading in the same direction as the Warriors.
“What’s that all about?” Helen wanted to know.
Blade studied the casinos on the far side of the boulevard. Fifty yards away was the answer, a casino with its name in bright red letters overhead.
JOHNNY’S PALACE.
Mousy and the two mobsters were heading for the Palace as swiftly as the logjam of pedestrians permitted.
“Johnny’s Palace,” Geronimo said. “It’s right across the street from the Golden Crown Casino!”
Blade stared from the Palace to the Golden Crown, feeling frustrated.
He’d never expected this! Why were Don Giorgio’s Palace and Don Pucci’s Casino directly across the boulevard from one another? Was the territory on the far side of the boulevard Giorgio’s? Was this side Pucci’s?
“We can still find Mindy,” Helen declared. “This doesn’t change a thing.”
“Yes, it does,” Blade said, disputing her. “If we go into the Golden Crown and rescue Mindy, we’ll undoubtedly have to take on Don Pucci’s men to free her. And when we come out, Don Giorgio’s men will be waiting for us. I don’t like the odds.”
“We could leave,” Geronimo suggested, “then try and get inside the Golden Crown after dark. Maybe we won’t be spotted by Giorgio’s hit men.”
“I’m not leaving!” Helen vowed.
“I have a plan,” Hickok mentioned softly.
“Even if we do leave,” Blade said, ignoring the gunman, “there’s no guarantee we can sneak into the Golden Crown undetected after nightfall.
Look at all those neon lights. This whole city must be lit up like one of those ancient Christmas trees.”
“I have a plan,” Hickok repeated quietly.
“Then let’s march into the Golden Crown, and hang the consequences!”
Geronimo advocated.
“I have a plan,” Hickok said.
Blade sighed and faced the gunman. “I know I’ll regret this, but what’s your plan?”
“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Hickok assured them. “We need to keep Don Giorgio occupied while we’re savin’ Mindy. So one of us should go into the Palace to keep Giorgio busy while the rest go into the Golden Crown and find Mindy.”
“I’m surprised,” Geronimo remarked. “He has a good plan.”
Blade ran his left hand through his hair. Hickok’s idea did make sense.
With Giorgio preoccupied, three Warriors
should be more than enough to quickly effect Mindy’s release. “It might work,” he grudgingly conceded.
“Then I reckon I’ll see you yahoos later,” Hickok said, and took a step toward the curb.
“Hold it,” Blade said. “I’ll go to the Palace.”
“Don’t be a donkey,” Hickok objected. “You’re the brains of this outfit.
If anyone can figure a way to get Mindy out of the Golden Crown, it’s you.
Helen should go with you because she’s Mindy’s mom. And Geronimo has to go with you too, because he can’t hoodwink folks the way I can.”
“I can hoodwink as good as you any day!” Geronimo responded, then paused. “What’s hoodwink mean, anyway?”
Hickok stared into Blade’s eyes. “You can see I’m right, can’t you?”
Blade reluctantly nodded. “You go.”
“Why am I so blamed brilliant all the time?” Hickok mumbled, and stepped to the curb.
“Wait!” Blade declared. “Cross at the next intersection!”
Hickok looked at each of them. “The direct approach, remember?” He winked at Geronimo. “Take care of that mangy, low-down, lyin’ Injun butt of yours.”
Geronimo started to reply, but the gunman was gone.
Hickok darted into the traffic, swinging his Henry from side to side, weaving between the cars. Some of the drivers slammed on their brakes at the sight of the Warrior. Others ducked for cover when the Henry swung in their direction. There was a lot of metallic squealing and grinding intermixed with curses and screams, but the gunfighter reached the opposite side of the boulevard unscathed.
Geronimo expelled a deep breath. “I wish he wouldn’t pull stunts like that.”
“If he didn’t,” Blade commented, “he wouldn’t be Hickok.”
“Too bad he’s married,” Helen remarked.
“Hickok will give us the time we need,” Blade said, heading for the Golden Crown. “Let’s make sure his sacrifice is not in vain.”
“Sacrifice?” Helen repeated. “You sound like you don’t expect to see him again.”
Blade watched the gunman wade through the stream of pedestrians on the far walk. “We may not,” he said grimly, then stalked toward the Golden Crown Casino.
Nevada Run Page 8
