When he broke his silence Hannon said, "I'll have to make a call about the shooting. Metro won't take long to trace my car."

The Executioner was well ahead of him.

"I'll drop you at a pay phone, but we need to talk before you make that call."

"That right?" The ex-detective's tone was skeptical.

"I'm interested in why those two gorillas took you for a ride."

"Well, now, if you're not law enforcement..."

"Did I say that?"

Hannon looked confused.

"I asked... I mean..."

"It's off the record," Bolan told him. "Call it 'need to know.'"

"I see." The former homicide detective's intonation made it clear he did not see at all.

"You know those guys?"

"One of them," Hannon answered, plainly hesitant. "A shooter by the name of Joey Stompanato. He belongs — belonged — to Tommy Drake. That tell you anything."

"It does."

Mack Bolan riffled through his mental mug file, flashing up the entry on one Tommy Drake. He was a middle-ranking mafioso, risen through attrition to acquire preeminence in the chaotic drug trade. While not a boss, he had the capability of putting out a contract. But the question still remained of why he bothered with a former captain of detectives.

"What's the tie-in?"

Hannon spent another silent moment staring at the road before he answered.

"Since you know my name, you've got to know I used to be with the Miami Police Department." He waited for the Executioner's confirming nod. "I pulled the pin two years ago, and since then I've been mostly working private."

"Something special in the wind?"

"It didn't start that way." Another thoughtful pause. "I handle some investigations for Miami Mutual — evaluating claims and checking into frauds, that kind of thing. About six weeks ago they put me on a theft of long-haul moving vans."

The former captain of detectives shifted in his seat and cleared his throat before continuing.