At the height of the fire, another shootout occurred between police and "two carloads of gunmen" in the street adjoining Lodetown. The running battle erupted when Captain Tim Braddock spotted the two vehicles cruising "in obvious curiosity" past the scene of the conflagration. Braddock identified one of the occupants as Lou "Screwy Looey" Pena, a long-suspected Mafia "enforcer" in the DiGeorge Family. Three of Braddock's officers were found wounded in this encounter, one seriously, and an innocent bystander, a familiar Lodetown figure known only as Indian Joe, was caught in the crossfire and killed. The two vehicles made good their escape, aided by the confusion attending the fire, and were later found abandoned in another section of the city. Dried blood was found in both automobiles, indicating that some of the police bullets had found their marks.

All in all, the full toll of the Battle at Palm Village was a fearful one: 32 commercial buildings, old but still functional and housing thriving businesses were destroyed, 26 private automobiles were burned to a total loss. Surprisingly, there were no human casualties of the fire, other than those previously noted. But Lodetown, a quaint if somewhat bawdy reminiscence of the Old West, suddenly ceased to be. The "balance" of Genghis Conn's town had been overturned. Upon the site of Lodetown would arise a modern business complex with no room for lonely farmhands and their naughty companions of the night. A new tax structure would necessarily emerge from the transformation; the Palm Village police force would become updated, more responsible, less "peaceful."

Staring solemnly at the ashes of Lodetown some hours later, Genghis Corm confided to Doctor Jim Brantzen: "It had to happen, Doc. Your friend was the catalyst this town needed . . . and that I needed. I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry for all the loss of life and property, but . . . at the same time . . . I'm not sorry. If you ever see that friend of yours again, tell 'im that Genghis Conn has no regrets."

"I'll tell him that . . . if I ever see him again," the surgeon replied.

Big Tim Braddock, returning to Los Angeles with his junior officer, Carl Lyons, offered a contrasting view. "You can see what a disaster this Mack Bolan is, Sergeant," he growled. "I hope I never again hear any Pollyannish nonsense out of you concerning the virtues and social values of this feud of his. He brings out the worst in everything he touches. We've got to get that guy! We've got to get him before he sends, the whole damn state sliding into the sea!"

"It's a damn shame," Lyons replied faintly.

"What?"

"I said it's a damn shame," the Sergeant repeated; his voice growing stronger. "It's a shame that Bolan has to take the rap for all of our mistakes."

"Whose mistakes?" Braddock said angrily.

"Ours. All of us. You and me and John and Jane and all of us straight citizens. Bolan's no disaster, Cap'n, no more than a compass is the North Pole. You can fire me if it'll give you any comfort, but if you and I were good enough cops . . . then there wouldn't be any Bolan. Bolan's no disaster, Cap'n. He's an indictment. He's indicting you and me and society at large, for malfeasance and gross . . ."

"That's enough of that!" Big Tim roared.

"Not even nearly," Lyons quietly replied.

They drove in silence for a moment, then Braddock said, "You're out, Carl. I guess I can't blame you for your own personal feelings. I mean, I guess I can understand. But those feelings disqualify you for Hardcase. I'll turn in your release tonight."

"Thanks," Lyons said. "But it's probably an unnecessary formality. Somehow I feel that we'll never see Bolan again."

"How's that?" the Captain asked.

"I don't know." Lyons sighed heavily. "I just feel that we've witnessed the end of an era. I think Hardcase is dead by default."

Braddock shifted his weight uncomfortably, reached for a cigarette, and growled, "Over my dead body, buddy. I'll see that bastard behind bars or I'll turn in my badge."

"Hope you'll enjoy your retirement," Lyons muttered.

"What?"

Lyons slumped over the wheel of the speeding vehicle and peered doggedly ahead. "I was just thinking out loud," he said. "I still think this is the end of an era."

"We'll see about that," Braddock said.

Sgt. Lyons was partially correct. The Palm Village episode did mark a turning point for the Executioner. But it was a turn into eclipse, not into extinction. Mack Bolan, behind his mask, was about to enter the most menacing and suspenseful stage of his adventures against the Mafia. He had decided to "get inside" Julian DiGeorge's Western family . . . and the Executioner's mask was going to put him there.

Chapter Ten

The Lambretta mask

Ten days had elapsed since the fracas at Palm Village and still Lou Pena had not returned to the Palm Springs estate of Julian DiGeorge. A brief message had come back on the evening of October 5th carried by a painfully wounded Willie Walker: "Lou says to tell you he'll be back when he's got Bolan's head in a sack."

DiGeorge promptly doubled his palace guard and spent several days in cautious seclusion. On October 10th, he summoned the convalescing Walker to his chambers and questioned him again concerning the events at Palm Village.

"Maybe the guy is dead," DiGeorge commented at the conclusion of the interview, alluding to Mack Bolan. "Maybe one of those unidentified bodies was his. Maybe the cops are playing it cozy, trying to keep the heat on us."

"I don't know about that," Willie Walker told DiGeorge, "From what I could make out, Bolan wasn't even in that town. We found Julio's car, like I said, but the way I make it Bolan just dumped the car there and stole another one on his way out. It don't make sense that he would dump the car and then hang around waiting for us to find it."

"Don't try to figure Bolan," DiGeorge warned his triggerman. "He likes to think he's tricky, so don't try to say what he would do and what he wouldn't do. You know the town, Willie. Soon as you're up and around good, I want you to take a few boys over there and give everything another quiet look-see. Plan it any way you want, but get some questions answered. If Bolan is dead, I damn sure want to know it. You understand?"

"I understand, Deej," Willie Walker assured the Capo.

During the following few days, DiGeorge had begun to relax somewhat. He went to Acapulco in his private plane on October 12th, combining a pleasant holiday with an urgent business conference which had been hurriedly requested by a Mexican associate. The discussion centered around the new U.S. border crackdown on narcotics traffic, and ways of circumventing this crippling interference with the multi-million dollar business. Returning by way of San Diego, he conferred there briefly with Anthony "Tony Danger" Cupaletto, Caporegime of the California border territory, to pass on the new strategy for the acquisition of Mexican heroin and marijuana.

When Cupaletto tactfully questioned DiGeorge regarding the status of Mack Bolan, the Mafia boss expressed the conviction that the last had been seen of "big bad Bolan." He suggested that Tony Danger "worry more about the Border Patrol and less about fancy ghosts."

"You just get the business communities to screaming about their lost bucks," DiGeorge added. "The Feds think they're pressuring us . . . you show them what real pressure is. Morales is working the other side of the border. You link up on this side and get the straight businessmen to howling about this harassment of border traffic. In the meantime, we'll rely on the boats to get the stuff in?"

The Family was going on with business as usual. As he returned to Palm Springs, DiGeorge's mind was busy with the problem of succession to the Number Two, or "underboss" spot which had been vacant since Bolan's execution of Emilio Giordano in September. Tony Danger was not even a candidate in DiGeorge's thinking. Bolan had executed the most promising lieutenants of the hierarchy. DiGeorge realized that a decision would have to be made quickly to avoid the possibility of ambitious intrigues among his underlings. Rank in the Cosa Nostra meant much more than mere position and prestige; it represented raw power and pyramiding fortunes in what some federal officials were already beginning to refer to as "the invisible second government of the nation."