Roxy moved a little impatiently. “This guy’s a big shot. The papers’ll play it to the sky. The cops won’t touch little Ernie… he’s too big for ’em. They’ll go after the small guys like us. They’ll hang every goddam frame on us to make a pinch, get it? We’ll be the mugs who’ll get tossed in the can.”
“You mean all this?” Myra asked.
“For God’s sake, of course I mean it. There’s only one thing to do an’ that’s to take a powder quick.”
Dillon got up. His face was cold and set. “No bull’s goin’ to frame me,” he said. “How the hell do you know they’re after him?”
Roxy said, “I heard it from Archer, one of Ernie’s boys. He took Fan out last night an’ got a little plastered. Fan keeps her ears open; she kidded him along, an’ he blew the set-up. They’re fixin’ him tonight.”
Myra took a step forward. “Tonight?”
Roxy nodded. “Hurst’s got a dame he’s nuts about. She’s the wife of some high-pressure guy in the City. She’s scared sick her old man’ll get the lowdown on her two-timing. Right; she meets Hurst in an apartment every now an’ then. Hurst is crazy enough to go there on his own. I guess he’s scared his bodyguard might get talkin’; anyway, when he goes on these outings he goes alone. Ernie’s been watching him for weeks, an’ he’s got this business taped. They’re callin’ on Hurst and they’ll give it to him at the apartment.”
Dillon sprang to his feet. “Get the Tommy,” he said, his words tumbling out of his mouth. “We’re certainly goin’ to surprise those bums.”
Myra stared at him. Roxy put in quickly, “You goin’ to pull Hurst out of this?”
Dillon swung round. “Sure I’m goin’ to pull him out of it. It’s the chance I’ve been waitin’ for. Listen, Roxy, you use your head. You ain’t gettin’ anywhere as a solo stick-up artist. You want to get in with Hurst. You come with us. We’re gettin’ in on the ground floor.”