Those at the nearest table were engaged in conversation. They could not have heard the voice. Genara raised his eyebrows as he looked at Anelmo.
Both the Sicilians were searching in their gaze. They were sure that no one had spoken from the next table. The only person near them was a waiter, who had been placing dishes on a tray.
Now the man approached, and calmly cleared the plates from the table where the Homicide Twins were seated. He came under the close scrutiny of both men. Neither had seen him before.
He was a man of middle age, who walked with a limp. His dull, expressionless face showed no signs of intelligence.
The waiter moved away unmolested. The Sicilians had not considered him for more than an instant. They still sought the source of the mysterious voice. The waiter picked up the tray and walked by the table.
Then came something stranger than the voice itself; a low, whispered laugh, that seemed to emanate from a spot above the table where the killers sat. It was a laugh such as neither Genara nor Anelmo had ever heard — a laugh that reminded them of the sinister words that they had heard; a laugh that mocked their inability to discover its author.
ANELMO half rose from his chair. He stared at the figure of the departing waiter. The man was lame, and stoop-shouldered — an innocent-appearing person in every respect.
Genara gripped his companion’s arm.
“Sit down, Tony,” he whispered in Italian. “We’ll find out about this later.”
“Suppose Savoli learns — ” There was no fear in Anelmo’s voice. His words carried only grimness.
“Savoli will not learn,” said Genara, in the same undertone. “Wait. We will talk later.”
“You mean — “
Genara released his grip on Anelmo’s arm. Tony nodded very slightly. He understood.
He and Genara had talked much together, particularly in that corner of Marmosa’s gambling den. Their words had been no more than veiled ideas. But they were schemers who understood each other.
They had a plan which now would be forced to its culmination. For some man — who, they did not know — knew the secret of their latest crime. With such men as Genara and Anelmo, a third person’s knowledge meant danger.
The room became quiet. Waiters had cleared the tables and gone away. The big shot was about to talk business, and while he had the floor, all must listen.
But even as Nick Savoli spoke, Genara and Anelmo were not listening. The sinister Sicilians were thinking only of that mysterious voice which had reminded them of their crime.
Had they known the source of the words, which had been uttered with the skill of a practiced ventriloquist, they would have realized that they were encountering a personage as sinister as themselves.
The middle-aged waiter was merely a man playing a part. His limp, his stoop shoulders, and his stupid face were a disguise. For the laugh which had startled gangland’s most formidable murderers was the laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVII
ENTER THE SHADOW
NICK SAVOLI did not plead when he urged the gangsters of Chicago to work together in a common cause. The big shot talked quietly but firmly, and he presented his arguments in a convincing tone. The presence of his powerful henchmen added weight to his discourse.
“Mike Larrigan is working with me from now on,” announced Savoli, “and this is the chance for the rest of you to fall in line. There’s enough in it for all of us, if we stick together.
“We’ll save the pineapples for the wise guys that think they are too big for us. We’ll put the double-crossers on the spot. There will be plenty of work for good torpedoes, but they will have to work with us.”
When Savoli had finished his discussion, Mike Borrango took the floor.
Addressing the gang leaders in turn, he laid out the territories that had been arranged. This required certain concessions on the part of Savoli lieutenants, yet no leader was required to give up too much.
Borrango, suave and efficient, pointed out the advantages that would accrue to all concerned. He invited comment, and he received it.
The crowning event of the evening was Mike Larrigan’s oath of allegiance. The big Irishman announced his full intention of sticking with Nick Savoli. But he made it quite plain to all present that a certain personal grievance was to be satisfied.
Larrigan tried to make his statement subtle, but it was obvious to all that he expected to exact vengeance for the deaths of Schultz and Spirak.
“I’m with you, Nick,” he said, “and any guy that’s with you is with me. But there’s a certain party — maybe more than one — that I’m going to get.
“I stick by my pals — you know that. Just because I’m going with you don’t give me a right to forget those that were with me. Is that right, Nick?”
The big shot nodded his approval.
“I don’t care who it is,” added Larrigan, “I’m out to get that one party — or anybody that helped him in his dirty work. He’s going on the spot just as sure as I’m lining up with Nick Savoli. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
The mob leader looked all about the room as he finished his threat, and the significance of his words was fully understood.
Larrigan’s eye fell upon Genara and Anelmo, and the Homicide Twins returned his gaze coldly. There was antagonism in Larrigan’s expression. His determined face showed that he would go to any limit to get the slayers of his former pals; but there was no sign of suspicion on his face when he looked at the two Sicilians.
THE conference came to an end after all important details had been smoothed out. There still remained a great deal of work for Mike Borrango. The groundwork was laid for Nick Savoli’s invisible empire, the task that lay ahead was to set the mechanism in perfect motion.
There would be trouble ahead, but Borrango felt sure that all difficulties would be with the owners of speakeasies and gambling joints, or with lesser gunmen — not with these leaders and their lieutenants.
The epoch-making meeting closed in harmony. There was handshaking all around. One by one the gangsters left, to go about their respective businesses.
Mike Larrigan appeared well satisfied when he left. By recognizing the power of Nick Savoli, he had firmly established himself as the greatest of all the independent gang leaders.
The others were satisfied. Morgan, Pietro, and Salvis felt that their combined forces were as important to Savoli as was Larrigan’s mob. They had seldom worked together in the past; now they felt a common interest.
Only a few gangsters remained. Anelmo and Genara still sat at their corner table, as though awaiting instructions from Savoli.
The big shot remained, together with his enforcer. A few waiters were allowed to enter, to clear up the tables.
Anelmo, still suspicious, looked for the stoop-shouldered man who had attracted his attention, but the waiter had evidently gone for the night.
With a motion toward Borrango, Nick Savoli left the dining room, and entered a door at one side. The enforcer spoke to Steve Cronin; then followed his chief.
Steve understood the action. He was to remain on guard while Savoli conferred with Borrango.
The departure of the big shot gave Anelmo and Genara a chance to fetch their guns. The Sicilians left the dining room. In a few minutes, Steve Cronin was virtually alone.
He slipped the automatic from beneath the table and dropped it in his pocket, taking care that none of the few remaining gangsters saw the action.
A waiter entered from the kitchen. He went into the room where Savoli and Borrango had gone. Cronin was suspicious for a moment; then the waiter reappeared, going into the room again with two bottles and glasses.
Steve was relieved. The big shot and the enforcer had simply ordered drinks.