“I hear there was a peace meeting last night,” he said.
“There was,” replied the big shot.
“Larrigan is now a friend of yours.”
“He is.”
“How does that affect me?”
“Listen, Monk.” Mike Borrango interjected himself into the discussion. “You can forget about Larrigan. He’s sore because Schultz and Spirak were bumped off; but we expected that. We wanted them out of the way so we could line up Larrigan.
“We’ll fix it so you won’t have to worry about Larrigan. What we want to know about now is where you have been — “
“Where I have been?” Monk Thurman laughed in a rasping tone. “I’ve been worrying about Larrigan, that’s what. I heard that Larrigan squawked to you. So I laid low. Here I am now, and I want to know just where I stand.”
“You stand high, Monk,” said Borrango earnestly. “In fact, we were just talking about you, Nick and I. There’s another job for you to do.”
Borrango reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. He counted off a thousand dollars, and handed it to the New York gunman.