Death List. Don Pendleton

man’s eye socket like it’s a bowling ball, if you want. But never just put your finger on a man’s chest. You’re just looking to get hurt real bad.”

      “What he said,” Pierce muttered, still eyeing Joey.

      “You get me?” Bolan asked. “Or do I add a little pressure and make your nickname ‘Lefty’ for the rest of your life?”

      “Nah,” Seb ground out through his teeth.

      “I can’t hear you,” Bolan said, twisting.

      “I said no! No!” Seb yelled. “I get you! I get you!”

      Bolan released him. The mobster collapsed to the floor, grabbing his injured hand with his opposite palm and curling into a fetal ball. Pierce looked down, smiling, and shot Joey a disgusted look before he gestured to the doorway.

      “After you, Mr. Harmon,” he said with a flourish. “And thank you.”

      “De nada.”

      They found Aldo and Rose Corino in a study decorated in the same manner as what Bolan had so far seen in the house. The appointments were opulent and over the top, as if it was all for show. Bolan ran the implications through his mind. The Corinos cared about being perceived as powerful and wealthy. Their images mattered to them. When an enemy’s ego put style over substance, that pointed to weakness. Which could be exploited and would ultimately be the fissures through which Bolan would crack and tear apart the Corinos’ armor.

      “What was all that grab-ass in the hall?” the elderly Don asked.

      “Nothing, Mr. Corino,” said Pierce. “Nothing at all. Uh, sorry for the interruption. And it’s very nice to see you again, Mrs. Corino.” He bowed slightly to the matriarch of the Corino family, perhaps even unaware that he was doing it.

      One look at the dour, wrinkled, battle-ax face on Rosa Corino and Bolan could understand why. She had the permanently pinched, furrowed look of someone who wielded a lot of power...and who wasn’t particularly happy about it. She wore a neatly tailored suit jacket and skirt and surprisingly tasteful jewelry. A pair of half-lens glasses was perched on her nose, attached to a chain around her neck.

      If Rosa Corino had a kind of Lady Macbeth aura about her, Aldo Corino was complementary to the role. He was a hunched, gaunt old man, wearing a cashmere sweater over a Ralph Lauren shirt. His slacks were expensive. His shoes, Italian loafers. He looked like he hadn’t gotten up out of his chair in days. He had a turkey neck and the face of a buzzard, with a prominent nose and sunken eyes. The Corino patriarch waved one hand, which bore a large, golden signet ring. The ring might, Bolan mused, be the only genuine antique in this ersatz mausoleum.

      “Vincent Harmon,” Rosa Corino said. “We’re told that you were instrumental in driving back the attack by the Torettos today.”

      “I was,” Bolan replied.

      “You should have seen him, Mrs. Corino,” Pierce stated. “You’re getting your money’s worth with this character.”

      “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Aldo told him. From the pocket of his sweater he removed a brass pocket watch. He made a big show of opening and staring at the timepiece before slowly closing it and returning it to his pocket. “He has to prove himself.” The Mob boss put his fist to his gaunt face and coughed several times. He looked to his wife.

      “The Torettos,” Rosa said. “They are your first test.”

      “I don’t follow,” said Bolan, who followed just fine. He wanted there to be no doubt. He wanted to hear the Corinos explain precisely what they expected.

      “All of the Chicago families have been deep in meetings for the better part of a year and a half,” Rosa went on. She kept her gnarled hands folded on her lap as she spoke, never gesturing with them. The absence of motion was what drew Bolan’s eyes. It was very likely, from the appearance of her fingers and knuckles, that Rosa suffered from severe arthritis.

      “In that time,” Aldo added, having recovered from his coughing fit, “we’ve all agreed on a list. There are names. There are dates. There are specific places. The plan has been worked out and agreed to so that it benefits all of the families and doesn’t step on any toes. The times and places are nonnegotiable. The dates are nonnegotiable. The list is a list of people we need you to take out.”

      “Yeah,” Bolan said. “I got that much. But you’re tying my hands if you expect me to hit these people only in the times and places you specify. It’s bad tactics.”

      “That’s why you’re here,” Rosa said coldly. “You’re supposed to be the best. The best can work within those constraints, can’t he? Because if he can, he can get very, very rich.”

      “And if he can’t,” Aldo said, “he can get very...dead.” The old man had to stop to draw a breath in the middle of his sentence; clearly he suffered from some kind of pulmonary issue.

      “How rich?” Bolan asked.

      “Six figures for each hit. The families have pooled their money into a war chest for the right man. That man is you, Harmon. At least, that’s what we thought. You going to...make a liar out of me?” Aldo asked.

      “No. Six figures I can work with. But I’ll need the list and the details. As much information as you have.”

      “Not quite so fast,” Rosa said. “We called the meeting for the restaurant so David here could lay it out for you. There’s a test we need you to pass first. It will show us that we’re not wasting our time, our money and all our plans on you. If you can pass the test, you can have the list. We can’t afford to have anyone try and fail. If what we’re doing got out, all the families would suffer for it, and we’d miss our chance. The man who takes on this job has to prove he can succeed.”

      “I’m waiting,” Bolan prompted.

      “David is an expert on the Toretto family,” Rosa stated. “He’s going to go with you, give you the lay of the land. We want you to remove the thorn that is the Torettos from our side. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t even care if people know you did it for us. That’s actually part of why we need them taken out. They struck us because they think we’re weak. They think they can defy us. We have to show the other families that anyone who defies us will die. Make it big. Make it loud. Or make it quiet, so long as it’s horrible. We want to make a statement.”

      “Right. I feel like there’s a catch.”

      The Corinos looked at Pierce, who swallowed hard. “Nobody knows where the Torettos are headquartered,” he said. “We know some of their territories, and we know some of their holdings, but they’ve guarded their whereabouts carefully when it comes to the Toretto bosses. That’s one of the reasons we haven’t been able to take them down before now.”

      “David is modest,” Aldo said, wheezing. “David himself is one of the reasons we haven’t been...able to take down the Torettos. Because David was given the job, and he couldn’t do it.”

      Pierce turned red but shifted so that he was facing Bolan and away from the Corinos. “We need the help of a professional,” Pierce said. “Somebody skilled in assassination. Somebody who can help me root out the Torettos and decimate them once and for all.”

      “I’m your man,” Bolan said.

      “We’ll see,” Aldo told him. “We’ll...see.”

       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