"Right, Jake," came the growl of Louis Steffan's new guard.
The first captor closed the door. The car pulled away. Louis Steffan was going for a ride.
Jake Bosch laughed as he saw the sedan disappear around the nearest corner. He gave his revolver a twirl and pocketed it in a leisurely manner.
He strolled along the street to the corner in the opposite direction. There, he walked calmly past a uniformed policeman and turned down the avenue. He reached a drug store on the next corner and entered a phone booth. A minute later, he was talking to Biff Towley.
"O.K., Biff," said Jake, tersely. "The boys were waiting. They've gone away — with a passenger."
"You were there first?" came the voice of Biff.
"I was near there first," replied Jake. "Made good time in my cab. Got out a block away. Walked down to the house and dropped out of sight when our friend came along."
"Good work, Jake. See you later. I've got another call to make." Leaving the drug store, Jake Bosch returned along the block past Clark Murdock's home. He grinned as he passed the house where he had made his capture. He continued on at a leisurely gait. His job was finished.
Hardened underling of a calloused gang leader, it was Jake Bosch's duty to obey orders, without knowing why. Tonight's business was a mystery to him.
Biff Towley had stationed mobsmen in the car near Murdock's home and had taken Jake with him to Weehawken to intercept Louis Steffan — a man of whom Jake had never before heard. Jake had done other jobs like this one. He was the skilled pilot who steered victims to waiting automobiles. Where they went or what happened to them was a matter of no concern to Jake Bosch. He felt no interest or sympathy for Louis Steffan. That young man was merely another on the list of those whom Biff Towley had chosen to obliterate.