Death List. Don Pendleton

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       3

      Chicago’s South Side

      “You mind telling me what that was all about?” Bolan asked, as Pierce guided his Town Car through the seedier sections of town. The smaller man had not discussed their destination with the man he thought was Vincent Harmon. He had merely motioned to the car, fired it up and started driving. Bolan had been content to give Pierce some time with his thoughts, but his patience had its limits.

      “It’s a long-standing thing,” Pierce said. “Son of a friend of the family, I told you. In syndicate circles, family is everything. If you aren’t blood, you’ve got to work twice as hard, be twice as hard, to show them you deserve to be here. And when somebody like Seb figures he should be the field commander for our street guns? Well, somebody like me, who fought his way up through the ranks over years of service... He figures I don’t rate, and I should be pushed outta the way. All because my father worked for the Corinos all his life but wasn’t a member of the family itself. The syndicate has changed, Harmon. We used to believe in loyalty.”

      “Yeah,” Bolan said, unable to help himself. “It’s like a guy can’t shark loans at three hundred percent interest and then sell his clients’ daughters into prostitution to pay off their debts anymore.”

      “Hey, hey, that’s not fair,” Pierce protested. “I don’t go in for any of that crap. I don’t run girls and I don’t have a hand in any of that type of thing. It’s my job to keep the other families from killing the Corinos. I run our guns and I make sure security is tight. I’m a security specialist, Harmon, not some loan shark’s leg-breaker.”

      “It’s a dirty business,” Bolan said. “I’m not sure anyone can dip his hands in that river of blood and come up clean.”

      “Says the guy who kills people for a living,” Pierce shot back.

      “Touché.”

      “Anyway,” Pierce said, “I’m not going to be doing this forever. I’ve been saving my money. I’m gonna open up my own shop.”

      “To sell what?”

      “It’s not important,” Pierce replied. “C’mon, let’s focus on the task at hand. You know where we are?”

      “The south side.”

      “No kidding.” Piece sounded annoyed. “I remember I used to walk into the room while my old man was watching television. I’d say, ‘What you watching, Dad?’ And he’d say, ‘A movie.’ Look, Colonel Obvious, this is Toretto territory. We’re way behind enemy lines down here. Keep your eyes peeled for gun barrels pointed our way.”

      “What’s your plan?”

      “This is your show,” Pierce said. The Corinos figure you’re the guy who can bring down the Torettos where I’ve failed. Well, fine. Show me you can do it.”

      Bolan shrugged. “You don’t think we should gear up first?”

      “Trunk’s fully stocked,” Pierce said. “We’ve got everything you could ever need.”

      “You might be surprised,” Bolan replied. He paused, mulling over the situation. It was not the first time he’d had to think on his feet. “You don’t know where the Toretto headquarters is, but you know this is their territory. That means they’ve got business holdings in the area that you do know about.”

      “Right.”

      “Take us to one,” Bolan said. “Someplace where a lot of money changes hands.”

      “We know the Torettos have a laundry,” Pierce told him. “But they keep the location as secret as their headquarters. For obvious reasons.”

      “Doesn’t matter. Someplace that handles a lot of cash would have to have that cash laundered. We find the first, it leads us to the second, assuming we leave at least one person alive.”

      Pierce stared at Bolan for a long moment before turning his eyes back to the road. “What about a numbers joint? Sammy Pinch books for the Torettos out of the back of a bar on 79th. The Rose, it’s called.”

      “Numbers? СКАЧАТЬ