"But that was over twenty years ago," Heck protested.
Laara pointed out: "Don't you think Scarface Willy has to go on making a living?"
Fanetti said: "Scarface Willy is real mad, see? After prohibition, Scarface gets into the protection racket. He knows the liquor trade, see? He knows the liquor people. So he starts protecting all the liquor distributors in Metropolitan City, back in the thirties. And ever since."
"Including National, from which Fanetti has been taking out several hundred cases of liquor a day."
"Including National," Heck groaned.
"Today," Fanetti finished, "Scarface Willy meets me there. He's mad. He's boiling, lemme tell you. Fanetti, he tells me, you're looking to get killed. Fanetti, you're as good as dead if you take as much as another shot of liquor from National. Fanetti, he screams, I get fifty thousand bucks a year in protection money from National Liquor. How in hell can I protect National, he hollers, from guys like you who just make the goddamn liquor disappear? Fanetti, if you ever do that again, I will have you hit in the head and put in a cement overcoat and dropped in the river. So I tell him I ain't the boss and this gets Scarface Willy mad, too. He figures he is the boss of liquor in this city. He wants I should take him to you. As we have strict orders from Miss Laara that nobody but ourselves is to ever get telewachamacallited, I tell him he will have to come here on shank's mare. So, he's coming."
"Scarface Willy?" said Heck.
"Scarface Willy," said Laara, looking worried for almost the first time since Heck had known her.
"But what about the cops?" Heck asked.