Fatty Smith.
Smith was the best bet. He tried the visor again, calling DU.
“Sorry, we have closed for the day.”
“This is important,” Gallegher insisted. “I need some information. I’ve got to get in touch with a man—”
“I’m sorry.”
“S-m-i-t-h,” Gallegher spelled. “Just look him up in the file or something, won’t you? Or do you want me to cut my throat while you watch?” He fumbled in his pocket.
“If you will call tomorrow—”
“That’ll be too late. Can’t you just look it up for me? Please. Double please.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m a stockholder in DU,” Gallegher snarled. “I warn you, my girl!”