“All right. Suppose you give me the South Side, or some other place to handle for you. I’ll show you what can be done in this town.”
Nick Savoli eyed the gangster narrowly.
“If you had been here this past week,” he said, “you might have done something to get what you want.”
The other Savoli henchmen were surly as they looked at Monk Thurman. They resented the tone in which the New Yorker had spoken.
“So I don’t deserve a share, eh?” questioned Monk.
“No,” replied Savoli.
“You owe me plenty,” retorted Monk, with a harsh laugh. “Plenty! Get that?”
“For what?”
“For double-crossing me with Larrigan!”
As Monk Thurman shot forth this accusation, Nick Savoli slipped his hand toward his jacket pocket. But he was too late. He was dealing now with Monk Thurman — not with Anelmo or Genara.