Assault on Soho Read Online Free PDF

the terrain out there, and of the forces arrayed against him. It was a mighty hard set, too hard for any ideas of a frontal assault. So, once again, Bolan's time had come.
    He went back through the shop and let himself out through the rear entrance. The alleyway was narrow, smelly, and densely dark, running along the side of the shop and dead-ending a few feet to the rear. Bolan took the only way out, moving cautiously toward the square, and rounded the corner in a casual stroll. The big man he had noted earlier outside the shop was now standing just downrange, leaning against a building about halfway between the shop and the Lincoln, arms folded across his chest in a stance of tired boredom. He did not see Bolan until they were in an almost direct confrontation, then he started visibly and whispered, "Shit, don't come up like that. You scared the—"
    Bolan told him, "Relax. I don't think the guy's over there. I think it's a bum stand." He edged in close to the man, keeping a distant street lamp behind him.
    "Is that what Danno thinks?"
    "Yeh," Bolan replied. His mind was clicking out the name.
Danno Giliamo
? Could be. A lieutenant in a New Jersey mob. Bolan probed. "Jersey was never like this, eh," he said disgustedly.
    "Any place is like this at two in th' morning," the man replied. He was showing an interest in Bolan's face and having a bad time at identification in the London blackness.
    Probably, Bolan guessed, wondering about rank. People in the mob were very rank conscious. Bolan pushed his advantage. "Go on over and get some coffee," he commanded gruffly.
    "They got coffee over there?"
    "I
said
coffee, didn't I?"
    The man sighed, mumbled something disparaging about "English coffee," and dug in his pocket for a cigarette. Bolan slapped the pack out of his hand, snarling, "Whatta you, nuts? You don't go lighting no fires out here!"
    "You said it was a bum stand," the man replied quietly. He retrieved the cigarettes and dropped them into a pocket. "Look," he added, "I didn't come all the way over here for a cup of lousy coffee. I want a shot at that hundred thou. Now if the guy ain't here, then I say let's go find out where he's at."
    A contract man
, Bolan thought. Bounty hunter, twentieth century style. Not even in the mob, but a freelancer. This intelligence opened interesting possibilities. Bolan pushed a step further.
    "What's your name again?" he growled.
    "Dunlap," the big man replied defiantly. "Jack Dunlap. You want me to spell it?"
    "Just don't forget, Jack Dunlap," Bolan said, playing for all the marbles now, "that Danno and me are standing your expenses." He chuckled drily. "I like a hot-trotter. You get over there and have yourself some coffee. And you tell Danno that Frankie says you get a spot up front. Understand? Where the action is. Eh?"
    The man was grinning. He said, "Sure, Frankie. You won't be sorry. What I hit stays hit, you'll see."
    "Just save enough to identify, eh?"
    "Sure." Dunlap chuckled. "I go for the gut, so I hope you don't identify by belly buttons." He made one last futile attempt to get a good look at Bolan's face, then moved on out and started across the street.
    Bolan immediately glided down to the Lincoln which was idling at the curb just downrange, lights out, engine running. A stir of interest inside the vehicle greeted his approach. He bent down to speak through the driver's window and snapped, "You boys get out there and cover Dunlap. He's spotted something."
    Three doors opened instantly and quiet feet began moving off into the darkness. The driver remained in his seat. Bolan swung the door open and snarled, "You too, dammit, get out there!"
    The man leapt out and ran quietly after the others. Bolan leaned inside and found the control lever for the spotlight. An instant later a brilliant beam stabbed across the darkness of the square and picked up the sauntering figure of Jack Dunlap.
    Bolan roared, "
There he is
!"
    Dunlap froze for an instant when the beam hit him, then he