Read Online San Diego Siege by Don Pendleton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Don Pendleton
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things get to that."
"Yessir, you can count on that."
"Okay. You've got a sharp crew here. Stay that way."
"You offer odds on that, Mr. Lambretta."
Bolan punched the guy lightly on the shoulder and went below to the main deck.
The Ventura Boulevard bridge was just ahead.
In a few minutes they would be in open sea.
Where to from there?
It was a wild-ass play he was making. He knew that. So ... why change the name of the game now? His entire life had become a wild-ass play.
He walked toward the stern and reached into his armpit to activate the miniature shoulder phone, then turned his face to the side and shielded his mouth with a hand as he spoke into the sensitive microphone. "Gadgets."
"Yo."
"Anything?"
"Plenty. Are you clear?"
"For the moment. What do you have?"
"Our young lady called a lot of people and said a lot of screwy things. The one you'll be most interested in is a guy she called Max. You tie that?"
Bolan replied, "I tie. Our VIP. That's a fast bingo."
"Yeah. Faster than you'll follow until you've screened this stuff. It's too much for a quick report. Where are you?"
"Aboard
Danger's Folly,
heading for open sea."
"God! What's the tie?"
"I decided to make that buy for Tony."
"God! Hope you know what you're doing."
"Me too, Gadgets. Off. Don't beep me. I'll check in soon as I'm back on dry land."
"Do that. I'll be monitoring."
Bolan repeated, "Off," and deactivated the radio. He lit a cigarette and strolled casually toward the bow.
He noticed the two crewmen perched tensely at the rail on the starboard side, each displaying the butt of a revolver in the waistband of their bell-bottoms, watching him as though he were a prize exhibit at some zoo.
He went on to the bow and leaned out to watch the water swirling past.
Yeah.
He hoped he knew what he was doing.
In all truth, though, he had not the faintest idea of where he was going or what he would do when he got there.
Danger's Folly,
hell!
It was very possibly going to prove
Bolan's
folly... and that was the brutal truth of that.
8
The buy
They'd been underway for nearly an hour and — to Bolan's best calculation — on a due-west heading. There'd been no conversation between Bolan and the crew. He had not encouraged any, but spent the early time prowling the boat to get the feel of it.
The main cabin — marked "Salon" with a brass plaque above the doorway — was done up for solid creature comforts. It was not overly large, but a lot of entertaining could be done in there. Couches and chairs, he noted, converted to sleeping arrangements for eight.
The engine room was crammed full of the most impressive-looking power plant Bolan had ever seen. It was quietly and smoothly propelling the big boat through the heavy swells of the open sea at a very respectable cruising speed.
The crews' quarters were housed in a small cabin behind the engine room. Four bunks, adequate headroom, small galley and lounge area — all of it clean and neatly shipshape.
The familiarization completed, Bolan sprawled into a deck chair on the fantail and watched the churning wake billow out beneath him.
They must have been twenty-five miles or so out when Bolan spotted the other boat. It was a classy speedster, deep draft, done up for sports fishing and flying a line of pennants from the mast.
He left his chair immediately and headed casually toward the bridge. Tarantini was inspecting the other boat through binoculars. He lowered the glasses as Bolan walked up and handed them to him.
"That's her," Tarantini announced. "And ready to deal."
They were still about a mile away.
Bolan growled, "How do you know?"
"Those pennants. It's a signal meaning everything's okay. If the Coast Guard or anything else suspicious had been in the area recently, she'd be flying a warning signal."
Bolan nodded. He said, "Okay, let's go."
They were running on the other boat's beam, passing to the rear now.
"We're going," Tarantini assured his passenger. "We don't just run right
"Yessir, you can count on that."
"Okay. You've got a sharp crew here. Stay that way."
"You offer odds on that, Mr. Lambretta."
Bolan punched the guy lightly on the shoulder and went below to the main deck.
The Ventura Boulevard bridge was just ahead.
In a few minutes they would be in open sea.
Where to from there?
It was a wild-ass play he was making. He knew that. So ... why change the name of the game now? His entire life had become a wild-ass play.
He walked toward the stern and reached into his armpit to activate the miniature shoulder phone, then turned his face to the side and shielded his mouth with a hand as he spoke into the sensitive microphone. "Gadgets."
"Yo."
"Anything?"
"Plenty. Are you clear?"
"For the moment. What do you have?"
"Our young lady called a lot of people and said a lot of screwy things. The one you'll be most interested in is a guy she called Max. You tie that?"
Bolan replied, "I tie. Our VIP. That's a fast bingo."
"Yeah. Faster than you'll follow until you've screened this stuff. It's too much for a quick report. Where are you?"
"Aboard
Danger's Folly,
heading for open sea."
"God! What's the tie?"
"I decided to make that buy for Tony."
"God! Hope you know what you're doing."
"Me too, Gadgets. Off. Don't beep me. I'll check in soon as I'm back on dry land."
"Do that. I'll be monitoring."
Bolan repeated, "Off," and deactivated the radio. He lit a cigarette and strolled casually toward the bow.
He noticed the two crewmen perched tensely at the rail on the starboard side, each displaying the butt of a revolver in the waistband of their bell-bottoms, watching him as though he were a prize exhibit at some zoo.
He went on to the bow and leaned out to watch the water swirling past.
Yeah.
He hoped he knew what he was doing.
In all truth, though, he had not the faintest idea of where he was going or what he would do when he got there.
Danger's Folly,
hell!
It was very possibly going to prove
Bolan's
folly... and that was the brutal truth of that.
8
The buy
They'd been underway for nearly an hour and — to Bolan's best calculation — on a due-west heading. There'd been no conversation between Bolan and the crew. He had not encouraged any, but spent the early time prowling the boat to get the feel of it.
The main cabin — marked "Salon" with a brass plaque above the doorway — was done up for solid creature comforts. It was not overly large, but a lot of entertaining could be done in there. Couches and chairs, he noted, converted to sleeping arrangements for eight.
The engine room was crammed full of the most impressive-looking power plant Bolan had ever seen. It was quietly and smoothly propelling the big boat through the heavy swells of the open sea at a very respectable cruising speed.
The crews' quarters were housed in a small cabin behind the engine room. Four bunks, adequate headroom, small galley and lounge area — all of it clean and neatly shipshape.
The familiarization completed, Bolan sprawled into a deck chair on the fantail and watched the churning wake billow out beneath him.
They must have been twenty-five miles or so out when Bolan spotted the other boat. It was a classy speedster, deep draft, done up for sports fishing and flying a line of pennants from the mast.
He left his chair immediately and headed casually toward the bridge. Tarantini was inspecting the other boat through binoculars. He lowered the glasses as Bolan walked up and handed them to him.
"That's her," Tarantini announced. "And ready to deal."
They were still about a mile away.
Bolan growled, "How do you know?"
"Those pennants. It's a signal meaning everything's okay. If the Coast Guard or anything else suspicious had been in the area recently, she'd be flying a warning signal."
Bolan nodded. He said, "Okay, let's go."
They were running on the other boat's beam, passing to the rear now.
"We're going," Tarantini assured his passenger. "We don't just run right
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