BIG BEN picked up the newspaper that Ernie had discarded. He began to read the headlines laboriously, spelling out each word.
“There’s sure been a lot of squawkin’ lately,” was his comment. “Last night didn’t do no good.”
“Tonight’s the night that counts!” retorted Ernie. He withdrew his feet from the desk and leaned forward in his chair.
“Lookit, Ben! Things are fixed O.K. The Bronx is a tough place. The D.A. up there has been working against the rackets. That’s why we’re going to be down here when the blowoff comes!
“Three o’clock’s the time — that’s when we’re going to go places down here and clinch things right! There’s six garages we’ll bust into.
“I’m the only guy knows what ones they are. I got my instructions higher up. The mob follows me, see?
“There ain’t no guy can make trouble for us when we get started. Whoever the guy is that’s been making trouble — well, I hope he tries to crash in on us tonight! He’ll get his!”
“He will if he tries to bother my mob,” said Big Ben emphatically. “We’ve got things all our own way down at the docks. I notice they’ve laid offa the boys down there. There’s only one bird that can make trouble with my gang. That’s Hoke Larrigan.”
“Still trying to muscle in, is he?”
“Yeah. He’s gotta mob of his own, but it ain’t big enough to do nothin’. Bart Hennesy is too tough for him, and he knows it.