“No, they’d take you some place and shoot you.”
“I was afraid of that,” Whisky returned mournfully.
“Why worry? They can’t do that more than once to you,” I said, trying to cheer him up. Maddox’s office was on the top floor of the Recorder building. I stopped the cab at the corner of the street and we walked the short distance to the entrance. There was no doorman on duty at that time of night, but I had to get pest the man at the information desk just inside the hall to reach the elevator.
We paused at the entrance and I took a quick gander through the glass doors.
“We’re in luck,” I said to Whisky, “I don’t know the guy. Come on in.”
The man at the desk just glanced at us without interest.
“I want to talk to the night editor,” I said. “I’m a friend of his. Can I go up?”
“Sure,” he said. “Know your way?”
I nodded and we went over to the automatic elevator. “Well, that was easy,” I said, as the elevator shot up.
Whisky heaved a sigh. “You can get five years for this,” he returned. “Even Summers couldn’t do anything for you.”