He spread out the roll, and displayed a mass of notes of one-thousand-dollar denomination. He thrust the ten one-hundred-dollar bills into the center of the wad, and replaced the cash in his pocket.
“I’ll get hold of Al Vacchi if I want anything else,” he said to Nick Savoli.
The New York gangster did not even nod toward Mike Borrango. He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving two astounded men behind him.
Borrango’s face showed amazement; but Savoli retained his semblance of calm.
“We gave him one grand,” said Savoli, with a short laugh. “And he had more than a hundred grand on him.”
“He is the man we need,” observed Borrango.
“Yes?” There was a trace of sarcasm in the big shot’s voice. “You think so, Mike? He is the man we need to watch! That is what I think.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks he is too big. These men who bluster and talk — like Steve Cronin — they are useful because they are easy to control. But he — “
Nick Savoli shook his head, and then smiled slightly. He was thinking carefully, scheming in the way that had brought him to his high position as the dominating force of gangdom. A plan had occurred to him, and he gave only an inkling of it to Mike Borrango.