“Let me hang around for a bit. Maybe, you ain’t my type of guy either.”
Carlos smiled. There was no mirth in it. “You’ve got a lot of confidence. That’s all right in its way.”
Fenner stood up. “I get along,” he said abruptly. “Where do we go from here?”
Carlos got off the couch. “Go out an’ talk to the boys,” he said. “Then we’ll go down to the waterfront. I’ve got a little job to do. It’ll interest you.
Fenner said, “Do I come on your pay-roll?”
“Suppose we say a hundred bucks until we get used to each other?”
“We’ve got to get used to each other pretty quick,” Fenner said without humor. “That’s chicken-feed to me.”
He went out and shut the door behind him.
Fenner, Carlos, Reiger and Bugsey entered a coffee shop an hour later. The place was full, and curious eyes watched them walk to the back, through a curtained door and out of sight.
Fenner found that Bugsey was ready to be friendly. He was a short, thick-set man, very much inclined to fat, with a round mottled face, gooseberry laughing eyes, and lips like sausages.