Outside in the poolroom, the buzz of talk suddenly stopped. Dillon stiffened. He cocked his ear, a frown on his face. The sounds from outside were no more to him than the ticking of a clock. He was used to them, and suddenly to have a heavy silence made him think something was wrong.
Before he could move from his chair, the office door pushed open and two men wandered in. Dillon looked at them, his mouth going to a thin line.
Strawn pushed his hat to the back of his head and rubbed his thick nose with the side of his finger. “Well, look who’s here,” he said, speaking out of the side of his mouth.
The other man looked Dillon over with distaste.
Through the open doorway Dillon could see the others standing like waxworks. He could see Sam Vessi holding a cue, as if he were going to make a shot, his head turned to the office, motionless. Jakie McGowan had his hands resting on the table, his thick features glistening with sweat. The others just stood or sat about motionless.
Dillon said, “You got no right bustin’ in here, an’ you know it.” His black eyes glittered.
Strawn wandered farther into the room. Ain’t you the guy I told to get out of this town?” he asked.
Dillon stood up. These birds weren’t going to push him around any more. “Maybe you think you’re smart with this line of talk,” he snarled. “But it don’t wash with me. You ain’t got anythin’ on me, so you can get the hell outta here.”
Strawn said evenly, “So you’re a big shot, huh? Well, listen, Big Shot, I still don’t like you, an’ I still say get out of this town. What do you think of that?”
Dillon shrugged. “You ain’t causin’ me any grief,” he said. “I know where I am, an’ you can’t do a thing.”
“One of these days,” Strawn said quietly, “you an’ me are goin’ to take a ride. Smart guys like you always come unstuck… you see.”
Dillon sat down again. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take a ride with you Maybe a lot of things. But right now you’re using too much air around here.”
Strawn nodded briefly. “I’ve heard a lot about you an’ your girl-friend. You two are getting big. But you can’t last. None of you guys can last. You think you can, but you can’t.”
He nodded to the other guy. “Take a look at him,” he said. “I’ll lay you ten to one we fix him in six months.”
The other guy shook his head. “You just want to make money outta me,” he said. “I’ve been caught like that before.”
Dillon sat glowering at them, a blazing hatred surging through him.
Strawn nodded to him. “Okay, Big Shot,” he said. “Don’t keep us waiting too long.” He jerked his head to the other guy, and they went out of the room.
When they had gone, Dillon got up and began to pace the office. Smart bastards, he thought savagely. It they thought they could pin anything on him, let them try.
Vessi, a thin little wop, put his head round the door. “You sure pushed ’em around,” he said admiringly. “These Federal dicks are gettin’ too big for their pants.”
Dillon looked at him irritably. “You’ve gotta watch those guys,” he said. “They’re just waitin’ a chance to crack down.”
Vessi propped himself up against the door. “Sure,” he said. “They’ve been on the look-out for us for a long time…. It ain’t gettin’ them anywhere.”
Just then the telephone rang, and Dillon nodded to him. Vessi went out, shutting the door. Dillon scooped up the phone. “Yeah?” he asked. His temper was short.
Hurst said, “Who the hell is that guy you got looking over Little Ernie’s territory? Listen, Dillon, I told you to lay off that part of the town. Conforti’s just been on, complaining we’ve got a man askin’ questions in Little Italy. What’s it all about?”
Dillon grinned a little. “Search me,” he said. “How should I know?”
Hurst said furiously, “You know all right. Get that man out of there and keep him out. I know your ideas, Dillon, and I don’t like them. I’ve told Conforti to take the matter into his own hands if that guy ain’t out by tomorrow.”
While he was speaking, Roxy came in. Dillon looked at him and jerked his head to the phone. He winked at Roxy and said “Hurst” with his lips not speaking. Roxy grinned and sat down quietly. He put his cloth-top boots on the desk.
Dillon said, “They’re crazy. I don’t know a thing about it.”
Hurst said, “You see to it, Dillon, or I’ll come down and start something.” He slammed down the receiver.
Dillon put the telephone down on the desk. His face was thoughtful. “You ain’t been careful enough,” he said to Roxy.
“What’s that? A squawk?” Roxy tilted his chair back.
“Yeah!” Dillon took a quill from his vest pocket and began exploring his teeth. “Quite burnt up he was. I guess he figgered Little Ernie would start on him again, the yellow rat.”
Roxy smiled. “I wasn’t careful,” he said. “I got right down to things.” He took a sheet of paper from his inside pocket and tossed it on the desk in front of Dillon. “Take a gander at that,” he said.
Dillon looked through the long list of names. “What the hell’s this?” he asked.
“Look at ’em.”
Dillon snarled. “Come on, cut out the mystery act. What is it?”
Roxy wasn’t to be hurried. “All those guys there’ve got swell joints for your automatics. They’ve all got big corner stores and they’ve plenty of space. Suppose we persuade them to take six machines instead of one…. That would be gettin’ somewhere.”
“Six? Are they big enough?”
“Sure they’re big enough.”
Dillon got to his feet. “Little Ernie’s got to be fixed first,” he said.
Roxy examined his finger-nails. “I got him tied up.”
Dillon stood still. “What was that?”
“I got him tied up. You’ve only to take the boys along an’ there he is waitin’ for you.”
“What’s this, Roxy? Let’s have it fast.”
Roxy took his feet off the table. “Little Ernie and his mob will be at the Hot Rhythm Club tonight. They’ve got some big night on or somethin’; anyway, the gang will be there. Suppose we go an’ join ’em? It would be a fine time to meet all the mob together.”
Dillon demanded, “Is this straight?”
“Yeah, it’s straight all right. I’ve been usin’ my ears around that part of the town.”
Dillon stood hesitating, then he said, “Wait here.” He went to the door and beckoned. Vessi and McGowan put their cues down and wandered over Dillon shut the office door. Vessi and McGowan ran the mob for Dillon.
He said. “Sit down, you two, I want to talk.”
They pulled up chairs and sat down. “What’s up?” Vessi asked.
Dillon sat on the edge of his desk. “I’m puttin my cards on the table,” he said shortly. “We ain’t expanding like we should. That’s not your funeral, it’s Hurst’s an’ mine. Hurst is scared of the other mob; I ain’t. Okay. Suppose we expand an’ not worry about Hurst?”
The two looked at each other, puzzled. McGowan said ponderously, “Say, we gotta do what Hurst says, ain’t we?”
Dillon shrugged. “Why?” he asked. “Who the hell’s Hurst, anyway?”
Vessi scratched his head. “Ain’t he the boss any more?”
“Wait a minute,” Dillon said. “I want you to get the layout of this. If we expand, we’ll have to get rid of Hurst an’ we’ll have to get rid of Little Ernie. Tough job, but ain’t impossible. If we expand we make twice as much dough as we’re making now. For instance you two guys will be holding down a couple of grand a week.”
Vessi’s eyes opened. “Sure,” he said. “I guess we’ll expand.”
“Don’t rush it,” Dillon warned him. “If you come in on this there’s goin’ to be a lotta grief for someone… Maybe it’ll be you an’ me. If you want the dough, I guess you gotta earn it, so it’s up to you.”