He was being held in place. He heard the car keys come out of the ignition, the trunk opening and closing, the keys shoved back in the ignition.

For an instant his vision cleared and he saw two men staring at him, and then a .45 automatic moving toward him. The blow on his temple didn’t seem hard, but the whole scene suddenly became too difficult for him. He saw the darkness closing in and then he relaxed and let it come and fell into a drifting, uneasy unconsciousness.

Something sharp, painful stung his nose. Chief Vincent turned away but the smell followed, stringent, biting, strong. He moved his head once more but the smell again followed. Vaguely he recognized the odor as smelling salts.

“I think he’s starting to come out of it,” a voice said from a long way off.

“Chief! Chief Vincent!” The voice was closer this time and he blinked and saw lights.

Pain darted through him as his eyes opened.

Assistant Chief Gene Vincent knew he was alive.

“What...”

Then he heard a soothing and familial voice.

“Take it easy, Chief. You don’t seem hurt bad. Knock on the head where you hit the windshield. Don’t see how you didn’t get battered up more since you didn’t have your seat belt on.”

Chief Vincent blinked again, and stared at the fuzzy shapes and forms. He shook his head and the pain knifed through him again.

He blinked and his vision cleared. Leaning into the car over him was Capt. Harley Davis, the gambling specialist.

“Davis,” Chief Vincent said. “What happened? Somebody rear-ended me?”

“Chief. We got it all under control. You sure did get a jolt in the backside, but whoever it was tore out of here. A patrol car has already sent in a report. We got cops all over the place, so just relax.”

“Head... hurts like hell.”

“Yeah, lacerations. Doesn’t seem too bad. Can you move? Try your arms.”

He moved his arms, then his legs.

“Get me out of here, Davis.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve got an ambulance on the way.”

Slowly they pulled him from the small space between the seat and the steering wheel. The wheel had not collapsed or crushed, Vincent noticed. Wasn’t it supposed to?

He swung his legs to the sidewalk and remained seated.

“Chief, you smell like a roadhouse. We found an open bottle of bourbon on the floor. You taking a little shot on the way home?”

“No, I haven’t had a drop. Give me a breath test right now.”

“No need for that, Chief,” Davis said. “Just wondered.” He reached in and took the keys from the ignition. “We need to check the trunk to be sure there aren’t any internal fuel-line or gas-tank leaks. That rear end got jolted pretty good. Hope we can get the trunk lid up.”

Sirens wailed and more police cars arrived. When Vincent looked up the next time he saw Larry Jansen watching him.

“Hey, Gene, relax. It doesn’t look all that bad.” He glanced away. “What?” he called to someone.

Captain Davis came to his side.

“Chief, I think you better come and look at this.”

The two officers went to the rear of the car. Davis pulled back an old blanket in the trunk to reveal a plastic-wrapped bundle. Chief Jansen bent in and inspected it.

“Is that what it looks like?” he asked Captain Davis.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was just checking for a gas leak. I thought you better look it over.”

Jansen lifted the wrapped bundle. Beneath several layers of clear plastic, a white powder was clearly visible.

“Look at that marker on the side,” Davis said. “It’s a recording number from our narcotics vault where we keep the impounded evidence.”

“I see it, Davis. That’s the forty thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine we took three days ago. What’s it doing in the chief’s trunk?”

“Sir, I think we better ask Chief Vincent that,” Davis said. “We have half a dozen officers who saw me open the trunk just as you drove up.”

Jansen closed his eyes. Davis had set up Vincent, then suckered Jansen to give the final shot to end Vincent’s career. No matter what happened in the investigation, Vincent was finished as a law officer. Davis had taken out another top management officer who would not be blackmailed.

Captain Davis cleared his throat. “Sir, do you want me to handle this, since you are such close...”

“Yes, Captain, take Vincent downtown and book him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“First let me have a word with him.” Jansen went around the car. He looked at Chief Vincent and shook his head.

“Gene, there’s a package of cocaine in your trunk. It’s been stolen from the department’s drug storage lockup. Did you know it was there?”

“Cocaine? Hell, no. And I remember somebody pouring whiskey all over me just after the wreck and somebody smashed the window to unlock the door, then reached in and took the keys out of the ignition....”

“Remember that, Gene. Right now, we’ve got to book you. We’ll get it all straightened out. We’ve got some criminals wearing uniforms right now. We’ll get them all blasted loose. Hang in there with us, and remember what you just told me.”

He stepped back and motioned to Captain Davis, then got in his car and drove with elaborate caution toward the police station. He did not want to be in any “accident,” as Gene Vincent had been. No matter what would eventually transpire, Gene was probably finished with the department, unless they could prove a lot of things quickly. Damn!

Half an hour later Assistant Chief Jansen was back at headquarters. Chief Smith had not been to work all day. No one knew where he was. That in itself was unusual.

By midnight, Smith still had not come in. A phone call came through to Jansen’s desk. It was the first time the phone had rung.

“Yes?”

“Chief Jansen?”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is the guy who pulled you out of that bloody situation yesterday.”

“Yes, again my thanks. They just wiped out another assistant chief. Planted some cocaine in his car.”

“They also tried to kill Chief Smith this morning. I think we need to talk, somewhere safe. I’m allergic to police stations. Can you walk north on Greenmount just north of Thirty-third? I’ll be along to pick you up. No escort, no visitors — just us two.”

“Of course. After what you did for me, there’s no chance that I’d double-cross you.”

“Good. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

Sixteen minutes later Mack Bolan pulled a rented Buick to the curb and blinked the lights. A tall man in a suit approached, looked through the car window and got in.

“All hell is breaking loose. Vincent is in jail, our other two honorable assistant chiefs are being blackmailed and now you say Chief Smith is in hiding? They actually tried to kill him?”

“You must have seen the report about his driver being gunned down this morning and a Mafia crew wagon being burned to a hulk.”

“Yes, but I never connected it.”

“Chief Smith is safe up north a ways in a motel. Looks like it’s up to you to run the store for a while.”

“They’re going to attempt the takeover soon,” Jansen said. “When would they have a better chance?”

“With you out of the way. Be careful the next couple of days. Is there any chance you can tie down Captain Davis?”

“I don’t know how, other than charging him with a felony of some kind, and for that I’d need proof.”

“And he’s too slick for that. I’ll take care of Captain Davis when I have a few spare minutes. Will you be running things until Chief Smith gets back?”

“I’m the senior, so I guess it’s up to me. I’ll put out a notice tomorrow that the chief is taking a few days’ emergency leave because of his ulcer. He’s had one for years and does have to take off a day or two now and then. But what about this takeover try? What are they going to do — blow us all away with bombs or just gun us down?”

“My guess is it’ll be more subtle than that. They’ll have to get rid of you somehow, so be careful. You might inspect your car before driving home, and be sure you don’t get in any car wrecks.”