Noolen came and sat down. “I’ve gotta mob,” he said cautiously, “but they’re not in the same class. They’d be scared to start anything.”
Fenner grinned. “Not when Carlos starts to slip. That’s when your mob’s got to go to work.”
Noolen clasped his hands. There was a long silence while he brooded. Then he said, “You’re playin’ a tricky game. Suppose I have a little talk with Carlos.”
Fenner shrugged. “Why should you? You’ve got everything to gain by just sittin’ on your can waitin’ for me to clean up the town.”
“Okay. Then go ahead. I’ll come in when I see you gettin’ somewhere. Don’t think you’re going to clean my territory, because you ain’t. One move from you I don’t like, an’ I’ll clamp down on you.”
Fenner got to his feet. “We won’t worry about that for a little while,” he said. “There’ll be plenty of time to take care of that angle later.”
Noolen looked up at him suspiciously. “I don’t trust you, Ross, you’re too cagey.”
“Who’s Thayler?” Fenner asked abruptly.
“Thayler? What’s he to you?” Noolen’s eyes were suddenly hot and intent.
“Saw his boat this afternoon. Swell job. Heard he came out here. Thought I’d like to look him over.”