McGowan said, “What are you goin’ to do?”
The door opened and Hurst walked in. The four men swung round, blinking at him. Even Dillon was startled.
Hurst stood there, a heavy frown on his face and his lips twitching with rage. “What’s going on here?” he demanded harshly. “Get these guys out of here, I want to talk to you.”
Vessi and McGowan hastily scrambled to their feet. They slid past Hurst as if they expected he was going to land them one.
Roxy sat where he was. He didn’t look at Hurst.
Dillon pushed back his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk top. He stared at Hurst with blank eyes.
Hurst said, “Get this other guy out.” He jerked his head at Roxy.
Dillon shook his head. He won’t be in the way.
Hurst stiffened. “You heard what I said,” he barked.
Dillon nodded. “Sure,” he said; “but this guy ain’t in the way. What’s on your mind, Mr. Hurst? You seem sorta steamed up.”
Hurst stood hesitating, then he sat down. “Look here, Dillon, this game of yours has gotta stop. I’ve told you before you gotta leave Little Ernie’s ground alone.”
“Can’t you take it, Mr. Hurst?” Dillon sneered.
Hurst sprang to his feet. “What the hell’s this?” he snapped. “You take your orders from me, and when I say leave oft you leave off!”
“I’ve been getting some ideas that’ll get us somewhere in this organization,” Dillon said, speaking slow. “Suppose we push into that ground you’re so scared about? Suppose we give Little Ernie the works? How do you like that?”
Hurst was speechless. His face turned a dusky red, and his big hands clenched on his knees. “My God!” he blurted out at last. “This finishes it. You’re out, Dillon Do you hear? Out!”
Dillon pursed his heavy lips and shot a side look at Roxy. Roxy sat in a heap, his hat tilted over his eyes.
Hurst went on, “You’re crazy to think of such an idea. A thing like that would blow the town to hell. I ain’t having you around my mob any more…. You get out.”
Dillon leant forward, his eyes like ice chips. “Where did you get ’my mob’ stuff?” he snarled. “You ain’t got a mob no more, you yellow four-flusher. I got it, see? An’ what I say goes with the mob. I’ve given you a chance, an’ you’re too damn yellow to take it. All right, from now on I’m runnin’ this outfit, an’ you’re likin’ it… get that?”
Hurst got to his feet. He controlled himself with an effort. “You’re drunk,” he said. “You haven’t the brains to run any business. You want protection, an’ you ain’t got it. You’re nobody. The cops would close you up damn quick without me right behind you.”
Dillon sneered. “Do you think I’ve been in this game an’ not got the lowdown to it? You ain’t got any pull; you’ve got dough. I know how much you give the cops to lay off you, an’ I’ll give ’em more. The guy that pays the most gets the best service.”
Hurst turned to the door. “You’re washed up,” he said shortly. “Get out and stay out!”
Dillon jerked his gun from inside his coat. “Just a minute, Mr. Hurst,” he said between his teeth.: Hurst stood, frozen. Then he put out his hands like a blind man groping. “What are you doing with that gun?” he gasped, his face going suddenly flabby.
Dillon didn’t bother to get to his feet. “You talk too much,” he said. “If we’re goin’ to break, I guess we’ll break the way I want it.”
While he was speaking, his finger curled on the trigger, gently squeezing. The gun suddenly boomed, jerking a little in his hand.
Hurst took a step forward, his hands pressed to his chest. Then his knees gave, and he sank down. Leaning forward over the desk, Dillon shot him again. The heavy slug made a big hole in Hurst’s head.
Dillon stayed there, leaning over the desk, his gun still pointing at Hurst, his lips off his teeth.
“Now, you bastard,” he said, “you can stay dumb!”
Roxy tipped his hat back and stared. “Hey,” he said, “you’ve spoilt your rug.”
Myra sat before the dressing-table, a loose silk wrap across her shoulders. Her skin was faintly red from the hot water of the shower. A cigarette dangled from her full red lips and the spiral of smoke rose over her head. She took time fixing her nails.
Dillon jerked open the door and walked in. Myra looked at him and glanced at the clock. It was not seven o’clock.
“You’re early,” she said, laying down the file. She pulled the wrap on and fastened the sash.
Dillon was very thoughtful. He went over to the window and, raising the blind a little, peered into the street. Myra watched him. She had an uneasy feeling that something had happened. “What is it?” she asked.
Without looking round, Dillon said, “Plenty.” He stood there a moment, then he dropped the blind and came back to the middle of the room. With his hat at the back of his head, he stared at Myra with blank eyes.
She said, “For God’s sake… what is it?”
“Hurst’s washed up,” he said abruptly.
“Little Ernie?” Myra got to her feet.
Dillon hesitated, then he shook his head.
“I did it.”
Myra put her hand to her mouth. She took a step back, pushing the stool away.
“You did it?” she repeated. “Did what?”
Dillon moved restlessly. “I gave him the works,” he said. “The yellow rat came in shootin’ off his mouth, so I gave it to him.”
Myra’s eyes flashed. “Are you crazy?” she screamed. “You’ve killed Hurst, you goddam fool?”
Dillon went over to her with two quick strides. His hand shot out and gripped her wrap, twisting it in his fist. He jerked her forward, so that their faces were close. “Shut up!” he snarled. “You shut your trap. I’m runnin’ this outfit. I ain’t standin’ any yap from you. If you don’t watch out, I’ll knock you off.”
Myra stiffened.
“Yeah, I mean that,” he said, his eyes glaring at her.
She put her hand on his wrist. “Let me go,” she said. “I won’t start anythin’.”
Dillon gave her a shove, sending her backwards. She sat down in the chair, her hands limply at her sides. “What are you goin’ to do?” she asked.
Dillon, satisfied that he had fixed her, went over to an arm-chair and sat down.
“I’ve got the mob,” he said, picking his words. “I’ve got the racket, I guess I’m goin’ to be the big shot… the only big shot around here.”
Myra said, “But the cops?”
Dillon sneered. “Hurst paid the cops. Okay, I’ll pay ’em. They ain’t to have any beef. I’ll pay ’em better, see?”
Myra didn’t say anything. She sat staring at the floor.
Encouraged by her silence, Dillon went on, “Tonight I’m goin’ after Ernie. We’ve got him sewn up tight.”
Myra jerked up her head. She just stared at Dillon, speechless. Dillon nodded at her, his triumph making him expand.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve got the whole layout fixed. First Hurst. Okay, he’s gone. Then Little Ernie…. He goes tonight. Then I got this burg to play with. It means plenty of dough, baby, an’ I’m gettin’ the lot.”
Myra beat her hands together. “For God’s sake… can’t you see where you’re headin’? Little Ernie’s got everything. He’s got a bigger mob… he’s got protection… the cops are behind him…. Oh, hell! I tell you he’s got everything.”
Dillon grinned. “Okay. When he’s washed up, I get it, so what?”
The telephone began to ring shrilly. Myra got up and answered it. Dillon saw her suddenly stiffen. She said, “Sure he’s here.” She turned round. “Roxy wants you quick,” she said. “Something gone wrong.”