Nevada Run

CHAPTER FIVE

Helen’s fingers gripped her Carbine until her hands started to tremble.

She gritted her teeth and released the Armalite, composing her features with an effort. “Did you say Pucci?”

“Yes,” Ma said. “Have you heard of him?”

Helen nodded.

Ma chuckled. “I guess everybody has heard of Don Pucci.”

“What happened to the other Families?” Blade asked.

“They’re still around,” Ma replied. “But their Dons must take orders from Don Pucci. He makes sure they all toe the line, that they all stick to their territories and don’t start any trouble.”

“So the Families have divided up Vegas among them,” Blade commented, pondering the implications for the mission.

Ma gazed from one Warrior to the next. “Hey! I hope nothing I’ve said will stop you from going to Vegas. You’ll have a great time.”

“We will?” Blade questioned.

“Sure,” Ma stated with conviction. “Vegas is more fun than it ever was.

Thousands of people go there every year. The casinos are open around the clock. There’s gambling and booze and floor shows, just like in the old days. You’ll love it.”

“People go there all the time?” Blade inquired.

“Thousands,” Ma reiterated. “They come from Arizona, California, the Civilized Zone, everywhere. We even had some Russian officers not too long ago.”

Blade straightened. “Russians in Vegas?”

“Sounds weird, doesn’t it?” Ma said. “But I guess the Commies like a good time as much as the next person.” She leaned over the table.

“Confidentially, I heard the real reason they were in Vegas was to conduct business with Don Pucci.”

“What kind of business?” Blade asked.

Ma shrugged. “Beats me. The Don doesn’t fill me in on his private deals.”

Blade was trying to analyze all of this new information. There were so many unanswered questions. How was it he had never heard about Vegas before? Were there really patrons coming from as far away as California and the Civilized Zone, two allies of the Family? If so, why hadn’t one of their many friends told them what was happening? Surely the leaders of the Civilized Zone and California must be aware of the situation.

“You sure know a lot about Vegas,” Hickok mentioned.

“I should,” Ma said. “Like I told you, I was born there. I spent most of my life in Vegas, and I’ve been around for a long time. I’m fifty-four years old.”

Blade saw the tall cook loading a tray with plates of food: steaks, potatoes, corn, and bread. He began to wonder if his suspicions were groundless. The three men at the table to the right of the door were sipping at their coffee, and the obese man and the woman in red were talking and laughing. He decided to sit tight, finish the meal, and if they weren’t attacked, to leave without provoking an incident.

But one of his companions wasn’t so inclined.

Helen locked her green eyes on Ma. “How long ago did the jeeps come through here?” she unexpectedly demanded.

Ma blinked her eyes rapidly several times. “Jeeps?”

“Yeah,” Helen stated harshly. “You heard me. Two jeeps passed this way. I want to know how many people were in them.”

Ma’s lips curled downward. “I haven’t seen any jeeps come by here in weeks, dearie.”

Helen suddenly stood, her Carbine aimed at Ma’s stomach. “Don’t lie to me, bitch! I don’t know what your scam is, but I know you’re a liar. Those jeeps stopped here. I need to know if there was a young woman with them.”

Blade picked up the Commando. All of the customers had swiveled at the sound of the dispute and were watching with intent expressions. The tall man was standing behind the counter, his hands resting on the top.

“Really, dearie,” Ma said soothingly. “I don’t have the faintest notion what you’re talking about.”

Helen’s eyes flashed, her voice lowering. “I’m going to count to three. If you don’t tell me what I need to know by then, I’ll blow you apart.”

Ma glanced at the tall man, then at Helen. “Are you nuts?”

“One,” Helen said, beginning her count.

Blade was tempted to intervene, but held his tongue. Helen had started this gambit; he would do what he could to back her play.

Hickok was grinning from ear to ear, his arms draped over the back of his chair.

“Two,” Helen said.

Ma looked at Blade. “Aren’t you going to do anything? Are you just going to sit there and let her shoot me?”

“If I were you,” Blade advised, “I’d tell her what she wants to know.”

Ma clenched her fists and glared at Helen. “There’s only one thing I’ve got to say to you!” she snapped. “Go to hell!”

“Three,” Helen stated somberly.

Ma abruptly performed a remarkable maneuver. She executed a dive for the floor while bawling at the top of her lungs, “Get them!”

Blade saw the tall man behind the counter bringing a shotgun up, and he threw himself backward so Hickok wouldn’t be in his line of fire. He squeezed the trigger as he fell, and the Commando thundered and bucked in his brawny hands.

The tall man was caught in the chest and flung from sight.

Blade landed on his back and swiveled to find the customers producing handguns with astonishing swiftness, as if from thin air. But fast as they were, the Family’s preeminent gunfighter was faster.

Hickok came up off his chair with his arms a blurred streak, drawing his Pythons with ambidextrous precision. The Colts boomed three times in succession, the shots spaced so close together they sounded as one, and the three men to the right of the front door went down, each one struck in the head, each dying soundlessly, one of them sprawling over the table while the other two toppled to the floor.

The obese man and the woman in red were taking a bead on the Warriors when Helen cut loose. Her carbine chattered, the slugs ripping into the heavyset man and doubling him over. The woman in red got off a solitary harmless round, and then she was propelled backwards by a burst to her face. She crashed onto a chair and slumped down. The obese man, gurgling and wheezing, staggered a few steps, then pitched forward.

Silence momentarily descended.

Blade leaped to his feet, scrutinizing the bodies to insure none of their foes were moving.

“A piece of cake!” Hickok declared, grinning.

“Check them,” Blade ordered.

The gunman walked toward the nearest corpse to verify the man was dead.

Ma was on her hands and knees, gawking at her dead comrades in amazement.

Helen walked around the table and grabbed Ma by the right shoulder.

“On your feet!” she commanded, hauling the matron erect.

Ma glanced toward the counter. “Poor Harry! He was right! I should have listened to him.”

“Right about what?” Blade demanded.

Ma looked at the giant. “He said we shouldn’t mess with you. He said you were trouble. He was right.”

Helen jabbed her carbine barrel to within an inch of Ma’s nose. “I want some answers, woman, and I want them now!”

Ma gulped. “Whatever you want, dearie.”

“I want to know about the two jeeps,” Helen stated.

Ma began fidgeting with her apron. “The two jeeps?”

Helen’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “Don’t play games with me! Two jeeps came by here recently. When?”

“Yesterday morning,” Ma answered.

“Was there a young woman in one of them?” Helen queried anxiously.

“Let me see,” Ma said reflectively, pursing her lips. “I seem to recall about six or seven men. They pulled in and ordered some food to go.”

Helen placed the tip of the carbine barrel against Ma’s forehead. “You’d better remember more than that.”

Ma was wringing her hands in the apron. “Yes! I do! Now that I think about it, there was a woman with them. She used the facilities.”

“Describe her!” Helen directed.

“Well, I didn’t pay all that much attention,” Ma said. “But I think she had red hair and was wearing a green blouse. I don’t remember the color of her pants.”

“Did you talk to her?” Helen inquired, lowering the carbine.

Ma shook her head. “Like I said, they pulled in and ordered some food to go. I saw them through the window, standing next to the jeeps and stretching their legs. Two of them came in and ordered the food. And two of them went with the young lady and waited outside the door while she did her business.”

Hickok strolled over, his Pythons in his hands. “They’re all fit for the vultures,” he said.

Ma glanced at the gunman. “I’ve got to hand it to you, sonny. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve seen my share of men who fancied themselves quick with a gun, but I’ve never seen anyone the likes of you.”

Hickok chuckled. “Just natural aptitude, I reckon.”

Blade crossed to the counter and peered over the rim. The tall man was crumpled on the floor, blood oozing from a half-dozen holes. He turned and studied the matron. “What was the setup here?”

“Setup?” Ma repeated innocently.

“Whatever it was,” Hickok mentioned, “it was mighty slick. Those cow chips had their handguns taped underneath their tables.”

Blade walked up to Ma. “What was the setup? Did your gang rob the customers who came through?”

Ma snorted. “I wouldn’t stay in business long if I did that, now would I? Besides, I wouldn’t stoop to petty robbery.”

“Then what was it?” Blade snapped.

“I’m in the skin trade,” Ma said.

“The what?” Blade responded.

“Oh. I keep forgetting. You don’t know a thing about Vegas,” Ma said.

“So let me fill you in. There are dozens of casinos in Vegas. And for every casino there are five houses—”

“Houses?” Blade interrupted.

“Yeah. You know. Brothels. Whorehouses,” Ma stated. “Houses of prostitution.”

“Prostitu—” Blade began in astonishment.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me you don’t know what a prostitute is?” Ma asked.

“I’ve read about them,” Blade admitted.

“Read about them?” Ma said, then laughed. “You’ve never visited a whorehouse?”

“No,” Blade replied.

“Now I know you’re from the moon!” Ma quipped.

“What do these whorehouses and the casinos have to do with your setup?” Blade questioned.

“I’m in the skin trade,” Ma explained. “There aren’t as many women around as there used to be. The houses and the casinos need women.

Pretty women. Lots and lots of them. I’m in the supply business. If a real looker comes along, like your friend here, I arrange to send her to Vegas.”

“How do you arrange it?” Blade probed.

Ma nodded at the tray of milk on the table. “Usually we drug their drinks. When they pass out, we grab them. Easy as pie.”

“But what if there are others with them? What if they’re with their family?” Blade inquired.

“They’re taken care of,” Ma said.

“You mean they’re killed,” Blade deduced.

Ma didn’t respond.

Helen’s lips curled downward distastefully. “You drug women and force them into a life of prostitution? How could you?”

“Don’t look down your nose at me, dearie!” Ma rejoined. “Being a pro isn’t as bad as all that. I should know. I worked the line once, I worked my way up to become the madam at one of the top casinos in Vegas. But there comes a time when you get put out to pasture, when you get too old for the trade. So when Don Giorgio offered me this franchise, I could hardly refuse. I make a good living here.”

“Who is Don Giorgio?” Blade asked.

“He’s the head of the second most powerful Family in Vegas,” Ma answered.

“How long have you been doing this?” Blade queried.

“Four years,” Ma said.

“So you planned to drug us and sell me into prostitution?” Helen wanted to know.

“I was going to do it,” Ma admitted, “but Harry talked me out of the idea. He said you were packing too much hardware, that you looked like you could handle yourselves. He said you were professionals, that we should let you leave in peace. So I agreed. Harry was always a shrewd judge of character.” She paused and snickered. “Isn’t this funny? We decide not to try and snatch Helen, we don’t even bother to drug your drinks, and you end up blowing most of us away!”

“It’s hilarious,” Blade said dryly.

“We should head on out,” Helen urged. “Mindy must be in Vegas by now.”

“Tell me something,” Ma said to Helen. “What’s this girl to you?”

Helen’s features hardened. “She’s my daughter.”

Ma did a double take. “I didn’t know.”

Hickok pointed at Ma. “What are we going to do about her? If we let her live, she might find a way of lettin’ the bigwigs in Vegas know we’re comin’.”

Ma, her hands buried in her apron, looked at Blade. “I won’t rat! Honest!”

Blade stared at the matron. What were they going to do? If they tied her up and left her at the diner, someone was bound to come along, find her, and let her loose. Taking her with them wasn’t feasible either. One of them would need to watch her at all times, and he couldn’t spare anyone for the job.

The matter was suddenly taken out of his hands.

Helen absently lowered her carbine to her side, gazing at the matron with a slight grin on her face. “Now I want you to tell me something,” she said.

“What’s that, dearie?” Ma responded.

Helen smiled sweetly. “I’d like to know what’s in that apron of yours?”

Ma stiffened. “There’s nothing in my apron.”

“Prove it,” Helen stated.

Blade saw Ma sweep her right hand from under her apron, and he detected the metallic glint of a gun even as he brought the Commando up.

But before he could squeeze the trigger, Helen fired. Her slugs slammed into the matron’s neck and face, and Ma was hurled backwards to tumble over a chair.

Ma wound up on her right side, crimson spurting from her throat and mouth, a derringer clutched in her lifeless right hand.

Helen walked over to the matron and nudged the body with her right boot. “She got what she deserved!” she snapped.

“Nice shootin’,” Hickok said. “I was going to plug her myself, but I figured you should have the honor.”

Helen looked at Blade. “Can we take off now?”

“In a minute,” Blade told her. “We must settle some things first.” He paused. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You are,” Helen replied promptly.

“Who decides when we will fight and when we won’t?” Blade asked.

“You do,” Helen said.

“Then why did you start this?” Blade demanded. “You didn’t even believe this was a trap when we suggested it.”

Helen gazed at Ma’s corpse. “I got to thinking about the things Hickok and you said. I realized you were right. And the more watched Ma, the more convinced I became that she knew something about Mindy. When she mentioned Don Pucci, that clinched it. I’m sorry. I was way out of line.

I should have waited for your signal. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Blade cautioned. He surveyed the diner. “Let’s head for Vegas before someone else shows up. They’ll never know who did this if they’re aren’t any witnesses.”

Helen hefted her Carbine. “I should be honest with you.”

“How so?” Blade responded.

“I’ll try to follow your orders at all times,” Helen said. “But when we get to Vegas, if we find Mindy has been hurt or been forced to become a… a prostitute, then I intend to kill everyone responsible. With or without your permission.” She stalked toward the front door.

Blade sighed in annoyance. He should have expected this attitude.

Helen was too emotionally involved with the mission to function effectively. He should never have agreed to bring her along.

Hickok was reloading the spent rounds in his Pythons, smiling impishly.

“What’s so funny?” Blade asked.

“Helen,” Hickok replied.

“What about her?”

Hickok watched her walk out the door. “I never realized it before, but the lady is a lot like me.”

“As if I didn’t have enough to worry about,” Blade muttered.