“We have heard that you did good work at Marmosa’s place,” said Borrango. “I thought that you might like to meet Nick Savoli.”
Monk Thurman turned his eyes toward Borrango, as if he did not understand the significance of the enforcer’s words.
“At Marmosa’s,” repeated the enforcer. “The gambling joint. Two nights ago.”
The New Yorker nodded as though he now understood.
“I remember now,” he said. “They had some trouble, while I was there.”
“Marmosa is a friend of ours,” said Borrango smoothly. “He suggested that you might be interested in some work here in Chicago. He did not say why you were here.”
The enforcer paused, to give Monk a chance to state his business in Chicago. The New York gunman stared at Borrango, then condescended to make an explanation.
“A vacation,” he said. “That’s all.”
“It’s not a healthy spot for a vacation,” observed Nick Savoli.
“No?” queried Monk Thurman. He raised his eyebrows as he spoke. “I have found it very healthy.”