"Yeah," Zitka said sourly. He had yet to find a glint of humor in the situation.

"How long they been encamped, Zit?"

The big guy there has been hanging around a coupla days. I knew he was reconning. I figured they had a phone tap on me. The TV and papers here were full of your private little war with the Mafia. I had the setup figured, all right. The phone was tapped. Soon as you hung up they came busting in here. Hell, I hadn't been worried until I got your call, Mack. You're the last guy on earth I expected to show up here. You shoulda stayed clear. You really should've."

Bolan's smile became a dark scowl. "I couldn't stay clear, Zit," he replied. The bastards have backtracked my entire life. I found stakeouts every place I went. They were waiting for me in Omaha, in Denver, at Gordon's place up in Evergreen, at Vegas—and now here. It's getting to be too damn much, Zit, Dammit, I need ..." His voice trailed off, and he raised baffled eyes to his friend.

"What you need, buddy, is a miracle," Zitka declared. His eyes dropped. "And what I need is to get this garbage the hell out of here."

Bolan sighed. "Call the cops, Zit. Tell them what happened. Meanwhile I'll be fading across the nearest horizon."

"You want me to kick the hell right outta you?" Zitka fumed.

This isn't your war," Bolan said quietly. "No need for you to get involved."

"Shut up, just shut up!" Zitka said angrily. "I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't dragged my riddled ass out of Phung Duc."

"I just don't want..."

"Screw what you don't want. You came here, didn't you? Awright, you're here, and I ain't blowing no whistles! Let's just get these stiffs to hell out of my apartment. Then we'll figure out what to do next. But you ain't fading across no horizons, buddy." He held out his hand, and Bolan gripped it tightly. "Now unless I'm up there scoutin' for you."