“You are bigger than the law, Nick,” continued Borrango with pride. “The cops mean nothing. You are the one big shot. The others do not count. There is no one person who can dare to fight you. There is no one whom you need fear.”
“You are right, Mike.”
“There is no one who can challenge you.”
“I fear no one,” said Savoli. “No one can challenge me. You are right.”
A LOW laugh came from the corner of the room. Mike Borrango was startled. He turned quickly. Nick Savoli also turned toward the direction of the sound, but there was no excitement in the big shot’s action.
A man was standing in the corner. A black cloak, with lining of crimson, enveloped him. He wore a large slouch hat, and the turned-down brim obscured his features.
The man’s arms were folded in front of his body; his hands were covered with thin black gloves. He laughed again, softly, but mirthlessly.
The sinister tone of his laugh seemed taunting. It ridiculed the words of Nick Savoli. It brought a tremor of fear to Mike Borrango. Then the man spoke:
“You fear no one?” he asked, in a low, even voice, that carried the same uncanny tone as his laugh. “There is no one who can challenge you? Look at me, Nick Savoli!”
The big shot looked. He stared as though fascinated. Yet there was no fear in his eyes. Instead, his face became grim and determined — almost brutal in its expression.