“You helped us out the other night. We’ve got to protect guys like Marmosa. We’ve got an excuse now to put Schultz and Spirak on the spot. You’re the man to do it. Those two boys are sore at you. They’re out to get you — if you don’t get them first.”
“That’s right,” put in Savoli.
“So we’re making you a fair proposition. Get them before they get you. We’ll square it for you, and we’ll pay you one grand a week while you’re working on them.”
“Where will I find Schultz and Spirak?” asked Monk Thurman calmly.
“They hang out on the South Side,” said Borrango eagerly. “Larrigan owns a saloon there, and they’re in and out all the time. But that’s a tough spot to get them. Maybe one at a time would be the best way — “
“Leave it to Monk,” said Savoli.
The New York gangster arose.
“I’ll take care of them,” he said.
Mike Borrango quickly pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. He peeled off ten one-hundred-dollar notes and then stepped forward toward Monk Thurman. The gunman took the money in a careless manner, and thrust it in his trousers pocket.
Then he withdrew it, as an afterthought, and held it in his left hand while he reached in his coat pocket with his right. He brought out a huge roll of bills that was twice as large as the wad of money carried by Borrango.