Not one but two table-top conferences had been underway at the Mafia's London headquarters at the moment of Bolan's telephone conversation with Leo Turrin. A meeting in the library was chaired by Joe Staccio, and was attended by Turrin and the crew leaders of the peace delegation.

Staccio had told them, "Just in case any of you are wondering why I brought such a large bunch over, I just want you all to understand this one thing. It only takes one man to talk peace. That one man is me. Now Leo here is the contact man, and maybe he can get Bolan to stand still long enough to hear what I got to say. Okay, that takes care of the peace end. So you're asking yourselves, why'd Joe bring the rest of us along? Well, here's exactly why. Arnie Farmer is a Capo, and we all have to respect him for that. But he's also a double-dealing rat at times, and we have to respect him for that also. That's why you're here, the rest of you. Arnie Farmer I know is going to try crossing me up. I feel it in my bones. And he's liable to get me killed. I want you all to feel thatin yourbones."

A Staccio underboss pushed a heavy ashtray into a slide down the mahogany table and growled, "He better not try it, Joe."

"Well, he's going to and we all know it. But listen, he will be the outlaw in this thing. I just want you all to understand that, and to know where you stand in this thing. When Arnie Fanner crosses me, he's also crossing the will of the Comndssione, as decided in full council before I took on this responsibility. So you know where you stand. I brought you over here to keep Arnie Farmer honest. I guess I don't have to say any more than that."

There followed a spirited discussion of strategy, defense, and of ways and means of convincing Mack Bolan that an honorable and rewarding peace could be his. Turrin was asked to recount various intimate details of his earlier association with Bolan, "so as to give us all a better picture of how this boy thinks," and Turrin did so, relating the episode at Pittsfield with as much honesty as he thought practicable.

Toward the end of this recitation, Bolan's call came through. Turrin carried on his end of the conversation under the eyes and ears of "Staccio's Peace Corps," the tag laughingly applied to the delegation by its own members.

When he hung up, Turrin grinned at the New York boss and told him, "Okay, my feelers are starting to pay off. This boy here knows Bolan from way back. I think this is what we been looking for."

"Yeah, I got that," Staccio replied, a worried frown furrowing his forehead. "Now how many other ears you figure were listening on extensions around here?"

Still grinning, Turrin said, "Probably at least half a dozen. That's why I picked this Tower of London for the meet. We can protect a meet like that, huh Joe?"

"You bet your ass we can," Staccio growled. His eyes snapped to one of the crew leaders. "You get out there, Bobby, and keep an eye on the ratpack. If anybody leaves, you report it back to me right quick."

The crew leader hurried out, and the other leaders of the Peace Corps bent their heads to the strategic problems of the moment.

Meanwhile another conference under that same roof involved Arnie Farmer Castiglione and his legion of headhunters. A large drawing room was filled to standing-room capacity with crew leaders alone, and the atmosphere of the room was charged with the tension and excitement of the task being outlined there.

Castiglione, of course, was running the meeting.

Nick Trigger and Danno Giliamo flanked the big man at the table. Both wore the look of a slightly whipped dog.

The farmer was saying, "Now these two boys here know that I'm giving it to you straight. This Bolan has made a couple of monkeys out of both of 'em. He's got them so rattled they can't even both tell the same story about what's been going on around here. You all know what this Bolan can do, you know what he's been doing to us right along. A couple of the old men back home think they can tame this wild man and make 'im one of us. But you go talk to Frank Buck about that. He'll tell you that no wild animal ever gets really tamed, it's liable to turn on you at any time."

"Yeah, I tried to raise a baby alligator once," put in a hood from Chicago. He stuck out a hand, revealing the loss of several fingers. "Look what that son of a bitch done to me."

"Shortfingers knows what I'm talking about," Castiglione commented, glowering around the table. "You don't make deals with wild men, and you don't invite them into your house and turn over the bedroom keys, and you especially don't give 'im a gun and tell 'im to run your palace guard for you."

"Christ no!" agreed another man.

"Bet your ass it's Christ no, but that's exactly what these tired old men back home want to do—not all of 'em now, I'm not talking against no special families.

I'm just saying a few put the pressure on, and what the hell could the rest of us say? Huh? We had to go along. But listen, only one or two are all for this thing, this peace bullshit. You notice, all of you boys notice that you've come from every part of the country, and you were sent to join my head party, and you all realize that. But now listen, how many of you boys would like to see this wildman Bolan carrying a Commissionebadge, and steppin' into the shoes of the Talifero brothers?"

At that suggestion every ounce of blood drained from Nick Trigger's face, nor was Danno Giliamo looking overjoyed at the prospect. Their reactions were lost, however, in the general ruckus spreading throughout the room. Everybody was talking to everybody else, and the meeting fell into brief disarray, then a telephone in the corner sounded and the chatter quickly subsided as all eyes turned to the instrument.

Giliamo pushed back his chair and walked quietly to the telephone, though it had stopped ringing, and delicately lifted the receiver. He turned about to stare at Castiglione as he listened in on the Turrin-Bolan conversation, then he hung up and returned to the conference table.

"Okay, what was that all about?" Arnie Farmer growled.

"That," Danno thoughtfully announced, "was Leo the Pussy making his contact."

"Awright, don't save yourself any secrets," the farmer demanded.

"Well, he's meeting this boy at some tower of London at ten thirty. But listen. That boy sure sounded like Bolan's voice. I mean, not exactly, but Christ, it give me the creeps, I think that was Bolan right there on the phone."

Castiglione glared at him while his mind ran through the implications presented. Nick Trigger, though, scowled at Danno and said, "When've you ever heard Bolan's voice before?"

"I've heard a lot of things you've never dreamed about," Danno snapped back. "Ithink I'm right, I think it was Bolan himself."

"You two shut up!" Amie Farmer commanded. "What time is it now?"

Someone replied, "It's almost eight thirty, I guess I run my watch ahead right."

"Yeah, it's eight thirty," Nick Trigger growled.

"All right Nick, you get out there and get some boys on their toes. Danno, you go with 'im and make sure he don't get rattled or mixed up or something, both of you watch each other." He dismissed them with a disgusted glance. "Rest of you boys get your heads in and listen closely to what I'm going to tell you. Now don't get fucked up on this, I mean you listen close 'cause I'm only gonna run through this once. Now listen…"

Nick Trigger and Danno Giliamo found themselves alone in the hall and glaring at each other. Nick muttered, "That rotten old bastard. Where does he get off talking to me like that?"

Danno lit a cigarette with angrily shaking hands and said, "You remember what we agreed to in the car last night, that Arnie the Farmer is a rotten bastard."