Right now they were creating an effect in Cronin’s mind. They formed an admirable team of pretenders, Savoli and Borrango. The average mobster was always deceived by their actions.
Savoli, skeptical, and hard visaged, seemed difficult to convince. Borrango, smooth, and suave, could make the average man believe that black was white.
Borrango was called the enforcer, but it was seldom that he used brutal tactics. His method was to make compromises; to offer compliments; and to bring others to his way of thinking.
At this very moment, Steve Cronin believed that he stood “in right” with Mike Borrango. He held the impression that the enforcer was fixing everything for him, so that he might gain Nick Savoli’s full favor.
As a matter of fact, Borrango was playing his usual game. With Mike Borrango, fallacies were more desirable than fact. He liked to lie and to create false impressions, for he was imaginative and ingenious, and neither of those qualities was necessary to tell plain truth.
“Very well.” Savoli’s comment came as a final statement. It seemed as though he had suddenly decided to choose Steve Cronin for tonight’s mission. “I shall count on you, Steve. You explain to him, Mike.”
The tall Italian leaned back against the bookcase.
“It is this way, Steve,” he said, in his perfect, purring English. “We are putting a man on the spot tonight. Machine-gun McGinnis is doing the trick, and you are to be with him.”
“O.K. with me,” responded Cronin.
“It is important that you have an alibi,” resumed Borrango. “We have arranged that, with Georgie Sommers. You know where his place is. Go there from here.”