Miami Massacre by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online Page A

announced. "Doc says high velocity and big calibre steel jackets made this mess."
    The captain nodded curtly and proceeded on to the lounge. The other detective, Lt. Robert Wilson, kept him company. Hannon stared down at the corpse and said, "So that was Johnny Portocci."
    Wilson nodded. "Checked in late last night. What's your interest, Captain? Was he one of your VIPs?"
    The Captain grunted and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lit it, and let the smoke drift out slowly as he replied. "No, but I've heard of him. Thought I'd better come down and check it out. Doesn't the name mean anything to you, Lieutenant?"
    Wilson shook his head and stared at the mangled face. "All I have is the make from the hotel register. John J. Portocci, Phoenix. That's all."
    "Big man in the rackets out there," Harmon explained. He swung about and cast an oblique gaze toward the pool. "Who's the other victim?"
    "One of the owners of the hotel." Wilson followed the captain to the other body, adding, "His name was Vincent Anthony Balderone, age 56, single, kept an apartment here. That's about the only info we have at this point."
    The captain stood behind the medical examiner, gazing down at the lifeless form. "I can add something to your make," he said musingly. "So can you, if you'll think about it a moment. Does the sound of Miami Vino ring any bells for you?"
    The younger detective had moved to the other side of the body. He caught his breath and murmured, "Sure, sure, that's the guy the Crime Commission was investigating last . . . wasn't it just last year?"
    "Yeah. And the year before that, and the year before that, and just keep going back. We have a file on this guy a foot thick. He's had his finger in every illegal operation in the state for the past few years . . . a to
Cosa Nostra,
Lieutenant. Big man in the Mafia's Florida territory. Before that, he'd beaten eleven murder raps in three states, all of them gangland rub-outs in which he was either directly or indirectly involved.
Nol-pros
in each case, lack of evidence. Yeah, we've got a file."
    "You can close it now for sure," the medical examiner commented, rising with a sigh from his examination. "An inch of his jugular vein is missing, along with assorted other bits and pieces. Dead before he hit the water, I'd say."
    "Guess he ran out of
nol-pros's
"Wilson said soberly.
    "You bet he did," the captain replied. He nodded to the M.E. and led the Lieutenant a short distance away to speak to him privately. "The Dade Force is taking over this case, Bob," he said in a quiet voice. "There's much more involved here than simple homicide."
    Wilson started to say something then checked himself and grunted a "Yeah?"
    "Yeah. Looks as though we have The Executioner in our town."
    "Aw, hell. You serious?"
    Hannon said, "Entirely. Portocci's Phoenix headquarters was shot up last night, bunch of his gang killed."
    The Lieutenant whistled softly. "Then he's moving pretty fast. Is there anything to definitely place him here?"
    The captain shook his head. "No hard items, if that's what you mean. But this is the jet age, you know. A pilot flew a private charter down here from Phoenix last night. Left shortly after the hit on Portocci's place. His passenger got off in Jacksonville, but instructed the pilot to continue on to Miami and to deliver a package to a man who would meet him at the airport. He was met by not one man but about
twenty.
The pilot got suspicious and reported the incident before he departed on his return trip. I came upon the report by the merest chance. The package, Bob, was addressed to our friend Portocci there . . . and the description of the man who claimed it matches our late buddy Balderone."
    The Lieutenant's brow was furrowed with thought. "But I don't see . . . I mean . . . how does that connect with Mack Bolan? If Balderone was there to pick up a package, and . . ."
    "Bolan outsmarted them, way I read it. They got word of the hit in Phoenix, learned of the chartered flight