"We been invaded by the U.S. Army," one girl murmured lazily, eyeing the tall soldier with interest.

"Shut up, stupid," Plasky grunted as he brushed past her. He went to Bolan with hand outstretched, then led the soldier like a long-lost friend to the table where the two other men sat. "Walt Seymour, this is Sergeant Mack Bolan," he intoned formally, presenting Bolan to the older man first. The obvious protocol was not lost on Bolan. He smiled and extended his hand, aware that he had progressed at least one step above Plasky, and also aware that he was receiving a firm but uninvolved grip of social courtesy only. The younger man seized Bolan's hand as soon as it was free and wrung it enthusiastically. It was the sort of handshake Bolan could understand, and he swept the man with a warm gaze.

"I'm Leo Turrin," the warm one said, smiling. "Hear you're just back from "Nam. Welcome home. What outfit you with over there?"

"Ninth Infantry," Bolan replied, hoping he hadn't reacted to the other's name. He'd recognized the comradely tone of another returned veteran, and the face meant nothing in his memory, but Johnny Bolan's words, this guy she called Leo, were dizzying his inner ear.

"I was in the Green Berets," Turrin was saying chattily. "I was a sergeant, too. Specialist-fifth, anyway."

Bolan recognized also the value of the common-interest tie with this obviously "in" member of the circle. He grinned and tried a long shot. "I always heard the most valuable specialists in the Berets were the female-procurers," he said.

The remark scored right on target. Turrin did a double-take toward the suavely poised Seymour, then exploded in a fit of laughter, digging an elbow toward Bolan. "Well, I'll tell you-" he cried, then abruptly quietened upon receipt of a coldly disapproving glare from Seymour. The ex-GI winked at Bolan and dropped back into his chair.

One of the near-nudies appeared at that moment and thrust a frosted glass into Bolan's hand. He thanked her and sat down at Plasky's invitation, directly across from Seymour. "Beautiful girl," Bolan murmured appreciatively.