“No.” The objection came from Nick Savoli. It was emphatic. He stared at Monk Thurman as one would consider an upstart. Under that powerful glance, many an intrepid gangster had quailed — but not Monk Thurman!
“This is not your job,” declared Savoli emphatically. “This man has been taken by Genara and Anelmo. They will see it through. If he will not confess, they will put him on the spot.”
“It’s not my job?” Monk Thurman’s voice was cold.
“It is not your job.” There was finality in Savoli’s tone.
“What is my job?” demanded Monk.
“Your job is to get The Shadow.” There was no reply from the New Yorker. Savoli turned quietly to Borrango. “Order them to go ahead,” he said.
AS Borrango turned to obey, Monk Thurman reached forward and plucked the telephone from the enforcer’s hand. Borrango leaped at him with a cry of rage; then stopped short, as he saw the expression of determination that appeared in Thurman’s eyes.
Nick Savoli half rose from his chair. He was ready to crush this reckless gangster who had so daringly prevented his order. But he, too, met Thurman’s gaze, and the big shot held himself momentarily while he listened to the gangster’s next words.
“Before you give the order,” announced Monk Thurman in his even, steady voice, “I must tell you one thing. You say that my job is to get The Shadow. The moment that Genara and Anelmo kill this man they have captured, I give up my job!”
He bowed slightly as he returned the telephone to Mike Borrango.