Cheers came from all sides. The city was in the best financial condition it had been in years. There was money to provide more family services to the needy and unemployed. There were more people with jobs than ever before.

The mayor turned it on for all it was worth and his political appointees and loyal party members, all carefully selected for the choice seats in the hall, responded appropriately.

“One more term! One more term! One more term!” the faithful chanted.

The mayor grinned. He had the best political smile in the state. Next he wanted the governor’s chair, then either the Senate or the White House.

The mayor paused. “Our great police department has been making rapid strides, as well. Less than half an hour ago our police detectives moved in with arrest warrants on six people in our community who some of you may still think are model citizens. In reality these six are members of the international organized-crime group known as the Mafia. They include Carlo Nazarione, the Baltimore godfather, and Nino Tattaglia, as well as Ardly Scimone.

“These men will be given a speedy trial, along with three others, as specified under law.

“It does pain me to reveal that one of those arrested is one of our assistant chiefs, Booker T. Edwards. Chief Edwards has been put on leave pending his trial. He has been charged with accepting a bribe and failure to report such a happening.

“Police Commissioner Williams has assured me that any police officer who accepts a ‘gratuity’ will be quickly routed out and prosecuted. The commissioner also has reported to me that Chief of Police Smith is currently missing. He has not been seen by the department or his family for three days. I am therefore appointing as temporary chief of police Larry Jansen.

“In closing, I’d like to remind you of the many glorious achievements of this administration, and to show you that we are in this fight to rid our city of the Mafia. We do not cover up. We could have ‘retired’ Chief Edwards, swept it all under the rug. We did not. We will not. Bad cops are going to jail. Now could I ask you to do something for me? What was that chant I heard that I liked so much a few minutes ago?”

The crowd responded with another two minutes of “One more term!” with shouting and clapping in unison.

Mack Bolan stood beside the speaker’s stand. He had arrived with Chief Jansen and been given a VIP badge. Jansen was beside the mayor as he left the stand. Bolan moved in behind them.

“Jansen, I don’t ever want you to do that again. No more going over my head to the D.A. Goddamn it, I should have seen all of that material before you showed it to him! I might have wanted to save Edwards. He was the only black we had as assistant chief. Yeah, sure Police Commissioner Williams is black, but so is most of our town. We need more black sergeants and captains. Get them. Fix the test scores if you have to, but I want more blacks in the top echelons of your department. And dig up Chief Smith. Put six detectives on finding him. I want to know what he thinks he’s doing.”

“Yes, sir, your honor. We’ll get right on it. And we’re going to be prosecuting these Mafia goons as fast as we can.”

Jansen was sweating when he turned and motioned to Bolan. They went out a side door. When they were outside alone Jansen said, “Is it always this hot at the top?”

“You haven’t even started to feel the heat yet. Wait until you blow out that second assistant chief.”

“Yeah, and I have to find some black captains and sergeants in a hurry.”

“I’ve got another problem for you. I didn’t see that evidence on Tattaglia. You need to make a phone call.”

“About Tattaglia? We’ve got him good.”

They drove to a pay phone where Bolan dialed a number, and when someone answered he grinned.

“Hope I got you away from a fantastic dinner party,” the Executioner said.

“No chance, cowboy. Know that voice anywhere. What’s happening?”

“Want you to talk to a friend of mine, Chief Jansen of the Baltimore Police. Tell him about Nino.”

“Easy. Put him on.”

Bolan looked at Jansen. “This man is Phillip Hardesty of the federal Department of Justice. He wants to talk to you.”

Jansen took the phone.

“Mr. Hardesty, is there something I should know about Nino Tattaglia?”

“Yes indeed, chief. Nino is ours. He was Mafia and we turned him around to take my place as our high-level informant. You can pick him up and hold him for a couple of days, but then the evidence against him has to be compromised or lost. He won’t do us any good rotting in a Maryland jail somewhere.”

“This is news to me. Your friend isn’t overly talkative.”

“Neither one of them is supposed to be. I’ll send you a letter through channels, and I want you to call the department tomorrow and double-check that I’m who I say I am. We need Nino right where he is, and higher up in the mob. I’m sure you’ll cooperate.”

“Yes. I guess all this evidence against the Mafia is ours partly because of Nino’s work with your tall friend here.”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay, it can be arranged. We’ll push other cases, drag this for a week and let him go without any formal charges. Mr. Hardesty, we thank you for your help.”

“Just doing my job. Put Mack back on.”

Bolan took the phone.

“Yeah, Leo?”

“Leo’s dead, didn’t you hear? Went to Italy on vacation and died in a fiery car crash.”

“May he rest in peace. So now Leo is off the Mafia hook.”

“Completely off. How’s Nino doing?”

“Fair. He forgets sometimes. You better give him a couple of reminders.”

“I’ll do that. Take care.”

They hung up.

Chief Jansen frowned. “Who the hell am I going to move up to captain?” He shook his head. “Up to now I’ve only been working fourteen hours a day. From now on it will be twenty-four hours on, zero off.”

“I’m crying for you,” Bolan said, grinning. “You love it. I’ll let you get back to work. I have a few loose ends to take care of. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

They waved and went their separate ways. He was sure now that Chief Jansen was clean. Otherwise he never would have told him about Nino.

Chief Smith had touched his own private panic button. When he got the rental car that first day he had driven fifty miles north of Baltimore. That put him on the outskirts of York, Pennsylvania. He took a motel room there and tried to call Nazarione. No one there would talk to him. They simply asked where he was, but he would not tell them.

He had walked around town most of the day, trying to decide what to do. Now he knew. He had to return to Baltimore, go to the big house and talk with Carlo. Almost any problem could be worked out face-to-face.

It was dark now, and he remembered this was the day of the mayor’s State of the City speech. He wondered how it went. He would hear some of it on the evening news. But he could not find a good news station on the car radio.

Just after ten that evening he arrived at the front gate of Nazarione’s mansion, told the guard his name and requested to see the capo. It was an emergency. The sentry went into the gate house and used the telephone. He emerged a minute later, nodded and opened the heavy gate by pushing a button. Electric motors rolled the steel framework to one side.

“Mr. Nazarione said you should come right up to the house. Leave the car in the lower parking lot and go to the front door.”

“Thank you,” Smith said. Some of his old confidence was coming back. Things were not as bad as he thought or Carlo never would have let him in. The guard did not even search him.

He swept up the curving, beautifully landscaped drive and turned into the lower parking lot, which was about fifty yards from the front door and the small upper parking lot.