Anelmo had not noticed the wire at the window, where the dictograph was picking up all that was said.
Nor had he tapped the paneling on the wall behind the table. Had he done so, he would have made a discovery.
For after the entrance of Nails Pietro, Joe le Blanc had disappeared from the large dining room of the Gray Mill. The proprietor of the road house had entered a closet that led to a spot behind the panel. He was listening there.
Le Blanc did not speak Italian fluently, hence the first few minutes of the conference did not give him a clew to the intentions of the speakers. He simply knew that Genara and Anelmo were trying to convince Pietro that some scheme was good.
The subject under discussion was the fate of the Unione Italiane, a powerful organization that existed in Chicago. The makers of illicit whisky, known as “alky cookers,” were controlled by the Unione, which had no present leader. The most recent incumbent of the presidential chair, Rocco Ricardo, had been put on the spot a few months before.
“You will control the Unione!” exclaimed Anelmo, to Pietro.
Genara placed his fingers to his lips.
“Not so loud,” he said. “Some one may hear.”
Nails Pietro shifted in his chair. He was a shrewd, fat-faced Italian, who bore a worried look.
“That is good,” said Pietro. “But there are two men who are in my way. Pete Varona and Al Vacchi. What of them?”