Kells nodded very seriously.
“We can have things working like a charm in a couple weeks if we go at it right,” Crotti went on excitedly. “Organization is the thing. We’ll organize gambling, the bootleggers, the city and state and federal police — everything.”
He stood up, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm. “We can jerk five million dollars a year out of this territory — five million dollars.”
Kells whistled.
Granquist had put her hands down. She was sitting deep in the chair, glaring at Kells. Crotti picked up his cigar and walked up and down, puffing out great clouds of blue-gray smoke.
“Why, right this minute,” he said, “I’ve got a hundred and fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of French crystal cocaine on one of my boats — a hundred and fifteen thousand dollars’ worth, wholesale. All it needs is protected landing and distribution to a dozen organized dealers.”
Kells nodded, pouring himself another drink.
Crotti sat down at the desk, took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.
“And you’re the man for it,” he said. “My money’s on you...”
Kells said. “That’s fine,” smiled appreciatively.