The telephone began to ring shrilly. Myra got up and answered it. Dillon saw her suddenly stiffen. She said, “Sure he’s here.” She turned round. “Roxy wants you quick,” she said. “Something gone wrong.”
Dillon scowled, but he got up fast and took the receiver out of her hand. “Yeah, what is it?” he snapped.
Roxy said, “Listen, Bud. Vessi’s blown the gaff. He’s tipped Little Ernie off about tonight. You gotta get out fast. They’re after you with rods.”
Dillon went a dirty white. “After me?” he said, his voice rising. “What the hell do you mean, they’re after me?”
“For God’s sake,” Roxy raved at the other end, “don’t stand there yappin’. Get out quick. They’ve taken two cars and are on their way right now.”
“Sure, I’ll scram,” Dillon said evenly. “Listen. Come on over, with a fast car. I ain’t gotta car here. I’ll meet you at the corner.”
Roxy said, “I’ll do that.”
Dillon slammed down the receiver and swung round. His face was twisted with fury. “Come on,” he said, “we gotta get out of here quick.”
Myra sprang to the cupboard and snatched out a dress. Tearing the wrap off, she pulled the dress over her head. She put on a pair of shoes. She was dressed under thirty seconds. Her eyes were like two glittering pebbles.
“The Thompson,” she said.