Jungle Justice. Don Pendleton

spotted the number of Vyasa’s drab apartment house just as Takeri said, “This is the place.” He drove past and boxed the block at a crawl, scanning sidewalks for any lookouts who might be stationed among the passersby or street corner beggars. None was obvious, and so he started looking for a parking place.

      In such a crowded city, space was at a premium. Curbside parking was out of the question, and the underground garage beneath Vyasa’s place required a card for passage through the roll-down gate. Reluctantly, Bolan settled for a public garage a half block farther east, taking a ticket from a stern attendant dressed in olive drab.

      Using the park-and-pay garage would slow them, coming and going, but he didn’t feel like handing Takeri the keys and having him circle aimlessly while Bolan went upstairs alone. He didn’t think Takeri would bug out on him, but he was already a hunted man, and with the Steyr in the rental car it was a recipe for potential disaster.

      Bolan found a spot on the garage’s third level, nosed into it and killed the engine. Unhappy with the choice, he left the Steyr in its bag, locked in the trunk.

      Takeri frowned as they stepped out, and asked him, “What about the other item?”