The Bone Yard by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online Page B

then, still a few good years away from Sing Sing and the chair. It made for opportunities. Young Frank Spinoza started out by running errands for them, picking up some pocket money in the process.
    He had risen through the ranks, surviving several dons along the way and always siding with the heir apparent who appeared most likely to succeed. Thus far his choices had been right on target, leading him to the respected post as New York's top ambassador to Vegas.
    Respected, as long as he had the correct answers. As long as he could carry out his orders.
    "Keep the lid on, Frank. We're counting on you." Dammit!
    For the first time in his life he had some doubts about his ability to carry out the task he had been given.
    Doubts concerning whether he could keep the lid on in Las Vegas with so many different pressures threatening to blow it off right in his face.
    Spinoza calmed himself, taking a deep breath and looking around his luxurious office, drawing strength from his surroundings. He was equal to the task or he would not be sitting here, about to meet with some of the most fearsome mobsters this side of the Rockies.
    He could handle them, could handle anything that came his way because he was a born survivor. Frank Spinoza smiled and felt the tension slowly melting out of him. He was adept at picking winners, and this time would be no exception. If he played his cards right he just might come out looking better than The Man himself. Frank Spinoza closed his eyes and made a wish.

7
    Seiji Kuwahara sat behind his desk, watching the waitress as she laid out the silver teapot and ceramic sake bottle. She lined up the little thimble glasses on the desktop so they were perfectly arranged. He knew that he could not have found an eighth of an inch difference in the spacing of the items before him; everything was ritual perfection, and therefore no more than commonplace.
    The waitress finished, bowing her way out of the office. Kuwahara acknowledged her only with his eyes; it would be unseemly and humiliating for him to bow to a woman or an employee. She closed the door behind her, cutting off the normal clatter of the restaurant as suddenly as if a falling blade had severed all the sound waves in midair. His office had been specially constructed to provide him with a sanctuary in the rear of his establishment, the Lotus Garden. It was soundproofed, insulated — to keep out the riot of aromas that were sickening by day's end — and fortified, in case police or other hostile visitors came calling unexpectedly.
    The single door would open only when Seiji pressed the electronic release on his desk.
    Without it, cutting torches or explosives would be needed to gain entry, costing the intruder any small advantage of surprise they may have had.
    And he had had no use for the small fortress up to now, but things were changing in Las Vegas.
    The opening guns had spoken. But the first engagement, meant to be decisive, had resulted only in confusion and disappointment. Kuwahara did not think of it as a defeat — although a cadre of his handpicked samurai were stretched out on stainless metal tables in the morgue. He grimaced at the thought of the cruel indignities that medical examiners, with their shiny instruments, would visit on his soldiers after death in battle.
    No matter.
    They were gone. The essence of them had departed, leaving only empty shells behind. The round-eyed doctors with their scalpels could not do them any further harm.
    He did not grieve for the commandos fallen in his cause. It would have been unmanly on his part, and they were all professionals who knew the risks and took them willingly, accepting death the way a lesser man accepts rush-hour traffic or a minor setback on the job. They had been ninja, and they were no more.
    If he felt anything at all, it was regret that they had died without fulfilling their assignment.
    Seiji did not count the mission as a failure — not entirely. The pig, Minotte, lay in the same