Noolen stood very still. “You better get out an’ stay out. . . .”
Fenner raised his hand. “Send the monkey away—I want to talk to you.”
Noolen hesitated, then he gave a sign to the Cuban, who went out.
“You’re not going to get anywhere being tough with Carlos,” Fenner said, stretching his long legs. “Why don’t you get wise to yourself?”
“What’s your game?” Noolen said. “There’s something about you I don’t trust...”
Fenner said seriously, “I don’t know. But string along. If my bet comes right, I may have to bust this town wide open. To do it, I might want you. I don’t like Carlos and I don’t like his racket. I think I’ll wash him up.”
Noolen laughed. “You’re crazy, Carlos’s big enough to smear you.”
Fenner nodded. “That’s how it looks, but that isn’t the way it’ll pan out You’d like to see that guy go, wouldn’t you?”
Noolen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said; “but he ain’t goin’ in my lifetime.”
Fenner studied the toes of his shoes. “You got a mob if I wanted one?”