The old man stood up. He said: “Why — damn you and your guts...” He opened a humidor on the table and took out a small automatic. “I can shoot the buttons off your vest, young fella... I can shoot you for a yegg right now, and no one’ll ever know the difference...”
I said: “You’ll know the difference — for not having taken advantage of talent, when you had the chance.”
He put the automatic back in the box and sat down and smiled gently at Stokes.
Stokes was looking at the floor. He said: “Five grand if you wipe out the whole outfit. Run ’em out of town, stick ’em in jail, poison ’em... Anything.”
“Wouldn’t you like a new railroad station too?”
They didn’t say anything for a minute. They looked at me.
I went on: “No sale. I’ll take care of Ben for that — but busting up the organization would mean sending for a few friends — would cost a hell of a lot more than five...”
The old man looked the least bit scared for a second-then he said: “Ben’ll do.”
“How about laying something on the line?”
Stokes said: “Don’t be silly.”