Neither of the Italians saw it close.
Nick Savoli took his accustomed chair; Borrango covered the bookcase as was his habit. They exchanged greetings with Larrigan, and the Irishman talked business immediately.
“You know why I’m here, Nick,” he said to Savoli. “It’s about this fellow, Monk Thurman!”
“What about him?” Savoli’s voice was challenging.
“I want him,” answered Larrigan. “You’ve had time to find him. They say he’s been here.”
“Who says so?”
“Different people!”
“Different people?” sneered Savoli. “What do they know about it? Ask Borrango. Wait — I’ll ask him. Has Monk Thurman been here?”
“I believe he is coming here,” replied Borrango smoothly.
“When?” came Larrigan’s eager question.
“To-day, perhaps.”
“And when he comes — “
“When he comes here, you get him,” announced Savoli.
A gleam of satisfaction appeared on Larrigan’s freckled face. Then Nick Savoli spoke emphatically.
“No killings around here,” he said. “We’ll put Monk Thurman on the spot, where you can get him. But keep your hoodlums away.”
“Right,” responded Larrigan warmly. “There’s one man going to get Monk Thurman. I’m that man.”
“I’ll tell you how it will be done,” suggested Borrango, in a pleasant voice. “We have discussed this, Nick and I.
“Monk Thurman wants to work for us. So we will tell him that he has a job to do tonight, and that Machine-gun McGinnis will meet him. We will send him to some good spot, and tell him that McGinnis is to meet him there.”
“When will this be?”
“Tonight,” said Savoli.
“Tonight,” repeated Borrango, “if Thurman comes here as we expect, this afternoon.”
“When will I know for sure?”
Borrango was thoughtful. He calculated the time element very carefully. He made allowance for a late arrival of Monk Thurman. Then he made his decision.
“Let me call you at six o’clock,” he said.
“All right,” agreed Larrigan.
“I’ll tell you then exactly where Thurman will be.”
“How about McGinnis?”
Borrango looked at Savoli. The big shot took the floor.
“You’d better take McGinnis on this job, Larrigan,” he said. “When Borrango calls you at six o’clock, he will tell you where to pick up McGinnis.
“You can ride there in your buggy, and switch to that old touring car McGinnis travels around in. Thurman will be expecting McGinnis, and when he sees the old boat, he won’t suspect any trouble.”
“Great,” said Larrigan. “You’re a good fellow, Nick. Then I can step out and plug Monk Thurman, and — “
“And McGinnis will be covering him from the car,” interposed Savoli. “It will be a set-up for you, Larrigan.”
THE Irishman departed in high spirits. He carried a final admonition from Savoli that no hoodlums should hang about the Escadrille Apartments during the afternoon.
Larrigan readily agreed to this course. He had no desire for a daylight shooting in the heart of Chicago. He had visions of Monk Thurman lying dead on a lonely spot far out of town.
Savoli and Borrango did not leave the library immediately after the gang leader’s departure. Instead, they discussed the subject of The Shadow.
“You’d better make sure that those torpedoes are on the job below here,” said Savoli. “If we lay back a while, this fellow they call The Shadow will either clear out or try to spring one on us.”
Borrango turned toward the bookcase, and reached up to open the secret portal that led to the hidden passage. Savoli stopped him with a quick gesture.
“Not through there!” he exclaimed. “Suppose they are on the job downstairs? They don’t know that we have the connecting passage!”
Borrango nodded. He went toward the anteroom, and Nick Savoli retired to his den.
When the room was deserted, the bookcase opened, and The Shadow glided forth. He stood like a black monster in the center of the room. He had heard everything that had been said. Now he laughed softly.
With quick stride, he reached the door to the anteroom, waited until all was clear, and then disappeared through the door of the fire escape.
IT was precisely four o’clock when Monk Thurman appeared at Nick Savoli’s apartment. The New York gangster had lost none of his bravado. When Savoli and Borrango met him in the library, they were amazed at the man’s self-confidence.
“What about last night?” questioned the big shot.
“Last night?” Monk’s voice was defiant. “I suppose those two gorillas of yours have been cooking up a phony story. They could have fixed everything if they had used any sense!”
“You didn’t make out well when you met The Shadow.”
“Perhaps not; but that was only the first time. I’m still out to get him, and I will get him.”
“Have you any idea where he has gone?” questioned Borrango.
“No,” returned the gunman, “but I’m going to find out.”
“Well,” said Borrango, in his smooth, persuasive voice, “we’ve got another job for you in the meantime, Monk. You did good work before; and you’ll get another crack at The Shadow.
“Tonight, we’re going to put a couple of double-crossers on the spot, and you’re the man we need to help out with the job.”
Monk Thurman appeared to be interested in Borrango’s statement. The enforcer followed up his words.
“We’ve been looking for a new man to work with McGinnis,” said Borrango. “You know McGinnis, don’t you? Machine-gun McGinnis?
“He’s taking out the typewriter tonight, and he’s going to bump off a bunch of hoodlums at a road house out past Cicero. He needs an old hand to help him. That’s your job for tonight, Monk.”
“Suits me,” said Thurman.
“It would not be wise for you to meet him in town.” Borrango was speaking earnestly. “So he will pick you up at Casey’s old saloon in Cicero. The place is closed now.
“You be there at exactly one o’clock. McGinnis will come along in an old touring car, with flaps on the sides. Go with him. He’ll give you the lay.”
“This means a lot to you, Monk,” said Savoli. “If we can ever get a crack at The Shadow with the machine gun, it will be curtains for him. This trip with McGinnis will do you good.”
“I’ll be there,” promised Thurman.
“You’d better be,” said Borrango, with a friendly laugh. “There’s one grand in the job, if you do it right. Do you want the cash now, or to-morrow?”
“To-morrow will be soon enough,” replied Monk. “You’d better have that five grand ready for me, too. I’m going to get The Shadow! Don’t forget it!”
“Listen, Monk,” said Savoli, suddenly. “What do you think that bird is after?”
“Who? The Shadow?”
“Yes.”
“Looks to me like he’s trying to chisel. Out to make trouble for you.”
“He’s not getting very far.”
“He can’t get very far.” Monk spoke contemptuously. “He can’t touch you, can he? You’re too well organized for him. The Shadow has brains, but he doesn’t use them.
“What if he managed to plug you? That wouldn’t change Chicago, would it? But he doesn’t work that way. That’s where he’s soft. He could have put me on the spot last night, but he didn’t do it. So he’s going on the spot when I get him.”
The New York gangster arose and started for the door. He turned to make a final statement.
“Forget about those hoodlums,” he said. “They’re as good as wiped out now. McGinnis and I will do a clean job.”
WHEN Monk had left, Nick Savoli went from the apartment. His huge, bullet-proof car was awaiting him. Mike Borrango remained in the apartment.