Despite Monk Thurman’s assurance that The Shadow was not a menace, the enforcer spared no precautions. There were two men in the apartment below. He stationed an additional gangster in the anteroom, to take the place of the regular attendant.
Shortly before six o’clock, Howard Blake, the advertising man, entered his apartment on the third floor of the Escadrille. He had apparently returned from a busy afternoon’s work. He turned on the radio, and sat reading the newspaper.
There was a buzz on the radio, as though static had interfered. Howard Blake listened intently. There was another buzz — shorter than the first. The sound was repeated.
Howard Blake had pulled a pad and pencil from his pocket. He marked down a series of numbers, one for each buzz that had occurred. Then he went to the telephone and looked at the dial.
The sounds that he had heard were disturbances created by the use of a dial telephone located in the same apartment house.
The advertising man had gauged the sounds accurately. From the dial of the telephone, he figured the name of the exchange and the number of the telephone which had been called.
Then he consulted a special directory; one which was listed by numbers instead of names. In a few minutes, he had located the address of the number which had been called.
Sitting in his own apartment, Howard Blake had learned the telephone number and the address of Mike Larrigan’s hideout! For the disturbance on the radio had been caused when Mike Borrango had put in his call to the gang leader.
Howard Blake smiled as he left his apartment. Reaching the street, he called a taxi and rode to Marmosa’s Cafe. There he obtained a table on the balcony.
After he gave the order, he went to a pay station in the corner of the balcony. He drew out the slip of paper which bore his notations, and called the number.
It was Mike Larrigan who answered. But the voice that spoke to him was not the voice of Howard Blake. It was the voice of Nick Savoli’s enforcer.
Howard Blake, speaking over the telephone, gave a perfect impersonation of Mike Borrango!
“That you Larrigan?” questioned the smooth, soft voice. “This is Mike Borrango. I have made a change in the plans for tonight.”
“What!” came Larrigan’s exclamation. “Won’t Thurman be there?”
“He will be there,” said the voice of Borrango, “but the time will be changed. You must leave an hour later, to meet McGinnis.”
“I get you. I’ll leave here at one instead of twelve, then.”
“That’s all right. You’re starting from where you are now?”
“Yes. I’ve got my car outside.”
“Very good,” concluded the man who spoke like Borrango. “It will work out fine. But do not leave until one o’clock. It would be bad for you to get there before McGinnis.”
HOWARD BLAKE left the telephone booth. He ate his dinner leisurely, and smoked a cigar after his dessert.
The advertising man had paid his bill, when two dark-faced individuals appeared upon the balcony. They were Genara and Anelmo. The Sicilians went down the stairs toward the street. Blake rose and followed them.
The men called a taxi. Blake heard the address that they gave. It was the Gray Mill.
Howard Blake stood by the front of Marmosa’s Cafe as the taxi rolled away. A short while later, he called another taxi, and ordered the driver to take him to the Gray Mill.
Thus two taxis were on their way to Joe le Blanc’s road house in the country. One contained Genara and Anelmo; the other held a man who evidently was much interested in the affairs of the Homicide Twins.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE PLOT AGAINST SAVOLI
Two hours later, John Genara and Tony Anelmo were seated in the private room of Joe le Blanc’s road house. The two killers seemed to be awaiting the arrival of another man. It was not long before he appeared.
The newcomer was Nails Pietro, one of the toughest of Chicago’s lesser gang leaders.
The Homicide Twins rose to meet him. They were well away from the window, and they did not observe what happened there.
As on that day when Joe le Blanc had talked to Steve Cronin, a hand appeared at the window, but only for an instant. Something slipped behind the radiator. It was a tiny instrument, and it disappeared immediately.
The wire attached to it was inconspicuous in the shadows at the side of the room.
The three men took their places at the table. Anelmo rose to make an inspection tour. He made sure that the doors were locked. He closed the half-opened window, and the thin wire was pressed beneath the sash. Then he returned to the table.
The three men began to talk in Italian. They were sure that they were not being heard.
Anelmo had not noticed the wire at the window, where the dictograph was picking up all that was said.
Nor had he tapped the paneling on the wall behind the table. Had he done so, he would have made a discovery.
For after the entrance of Nails Pietro, Joe le Blanc had disappeared from the large dining room of the Gray Mill. The proprietor of the road house had entered a closet that led to a spot behind the panel. He was listening there.
Le Blanc did not speak Italian fluently, hence the first few minutes of the conference did not give him a clew to the intentions of the speakers. He simply knew that Genara and Anelmo were trying to convince Pietro that some scheme was good.
The subject under discussion was the fate of the Unione Italiane, a powerful organization that existed in Chicago. The makers of illicit whisky, known as “alky cookers,” were controlled by the Unione, which had no present leader. The most recent incumbent of the presidential chair, Rocco Ricardo, had been put on the spot a few months before.
“You will control the Unione!” exclaimed Anelmo, to Pietro.
Genara placed his fingers to his lips.
“Not so loud,” he said. “Some one may hear.”
Nails Pietro shifted in his chair. He was a shrewd, fat-faced Italian, who bore a worried look.
“That is good,” said Pietro. “But there are two men who are in my way. Pete Varona and Al Vacchi. What of them?”
Genara snapped his fingers derisively.
“Who are they?” he questioned. “You have your men. Vacchi and Varona meet tonight.
“Remember how Ricardo went out? While friends were calling to see him? How about Vacchi and Varona? Are you not a friend of theirs? It will be easy for you, tonight.”
“That part is all right,” replied Nails Pietro uneasily, “but that doesn’t include Nick Savoli. What about him? Where will I be?”
THE mention of Nick Savoli’s name caused Joe le Blanc to listen more intently. So far, he had been unable to follow the thread of the talk. Now the words that followed were direct, and he began to understand.
“Savoli?” questioned Anelmo. “Leave that to us. Genara and I will see him tonight. That will be the end of Nick Savoli. There will be two big shots after this. Genara will be one. Anelmo will be the other.”
Genara nodded emphatically.
“But Borrango?” questioned Pietro.
“Who is Borrango?” asked Anelmo. “He does what he is told to do — by Savoli. Where will he be without Savoli? He will work for the next big shot, that is all.
“Mike Borrango is wise. He will take orders from us.”
Nails Pietro studied the other men craftily. He knew that they meant what they said. He did not know why the Homicide Twins were planning treachery against their chief, but he saw that their plan had tremendous possibilities. Still, he hesitated.
“What about Larrigan?” Pietro questioned.
Anelmo looked at Genara. The latter nodded. Anelmo bent close to Pietro’s ear, and whispered words that were inaudible to Le Blanc.
“Larrigan will always make trouble,” he said, in a confidential voice. “It is because of Larrigan that Savoli must die. When we are the big shots, Larrigan will be out.”