The other guy shook his head. “You just want to make money outta me,” he said. “I’ve been caught like that before.”
Dillon sat glowering at them, a blazing hatred surging through him.
Strawn nodded to him. “Okay, Big Shot,” he said. “Don’t keep us waiting too long.” He jerked his head to the other guy, and they went out of the room.
When they had gone, Dillon got up and began to pace the office. Smart bastards, he thought savagely. It they thought they could pin anything on him, let them try.
Vessi, a thin little wop, put his head round the door. “You sure pushed ’em around,” he said admiringly. “These Federal dicks are gettin’ too big for their pants.”
Dillon looked at him irritably. “You’ve gotta watch those guys,” he said. “They’re just waitin’ a chance to crack down.”
Vessi propped himself up against the door. “Sure,” he said. “They’ve been on the look-out for us for a long time…. It ain’t gettin’ them anywhere.”
Just then the telephone rang, and Dillon nodded to him. Vessi went out, shutting the door. Dillon scooped up the phone. “Yeah?” he asked. His temper was short.
Hurst said, “Who the hell is that guy you got looking over Little Ernie’s territory? Listen, Dillon, I told you to lay off that part of the town. Conforti’s just been on, complaining we’ve got a man askin’ questions in Little Italy. What’s it all about?”
Dillon grinned a little. “Search me,” he said. “How should I know?”