did to us this morning.'
'Look, he'll hit again, I know he will. So stop beefing.'
'I hope it's soon. I want to get out of here.'
'It's the wrong foot we arrived on I'd like to take that fuckin' Stanno and shove something up his ass. And I might. If the guy wasn't so damned effective.…'
'Most of the time, you mean,' Pat said.
'Yeah, that's what I meant. Joe's okay, I guess.'
'Yeah, but one more fuck-up like this morning, and…'
'Right,' Mike agreed. 'The next is the last.'
Bodyguards were supposed to develop hearing problems during such candid moments This one was gazing at the stars and totally out of the conversation.
'Remember Siffy Peters?' Pat asked.
'They sometimes called him Shaker Sam,' Mike recalled.
'Right. He tried to pull that amnesia gag on old man Marinello.'
'That was that Bronx rumble,' Mike said.
They were laughing it up.
The bodyguard continued to stargaze, but put in with, 'I never did hear what became of Siffy.'
Still laughing, Mike told him, 'You never will, either. Not unless you can operate a jackhammer at the bottom of the Hudson.'
Pat sniggered and added, 'And you'd have to chip away two feet of concrete bathing suit.'
'Siffy Peters was a better hit man than Joe Stanno,' the bodyguard said. 'That is, until he got all conked up with the siff.'
'You think so?' Mike asked.
'That's what I think,' the guy replied.
A lieutenant stepped onto the terrace and stood quietly by the doorway, awaiting recognition of his presence.
Pat Talifero was leaning against the railing, staring straight at the new arrival. Presently he asked, 'What is it now?'
'Guy here to see you, boss. Guy runs the hotel.'
'What the hell does he want?'
'He says, just droppin in.'
'Tell him to just drop out. We got no time for — what's new from the street?'
'Glitter Gulch checked in, 'bout five minutes ago. Another zero.'
'Tell him to tighten up that damn sieve!'
'It's getting tougher all the time, boss. Cops are thick as flies out there.'
'I don't give a shit about the cops!' Pat Talifero yelled. 'How many places can a guy hide in this creep town? You tell those boys to — okay, send the jerk in.'
'Sir?'
'The hotel jerk, let's observe the formalities, I guess.'
'Yessir.'
The guy faded out.
'Those guys aren't trying hard enough!' Pat fumed. 'I believe they're all scared they will stumble on the guy!'
Mike shrugged and threw his cigar away. 'He'll stumble over us.'
'You keep saying that!'
'He will.'
A suave man of about forty appeared through the doorway. 'They told me I'd find you out here,' he said jovially.
Pat disliked the man instantly. He despised that soft pink pampered look some of these guys had. 'You found us,' he said. 'What do you want?'
'Just, uh, wanted to make sure you're comfortable and all.'
'And all what?'
The guy's face fell. He said, 'It's part of the VIP package, Mr. Talifero. I always look in on honored guests.'
'All right, you looked. Thanks. Goodbye.'
'I, uh…' The man took a step toward the doorway, then turned back and blurted, 'Do you know the new casino boss?'
'What new casino boss?'
'Well… I was wondering… he's setting up the house.'
'He who?'
'I believe the name is Vinton, a Mr. Vinton. It's the talk of the Strip, I wondered if you'd heard. He actually closed the casino.'
'Closed it?'
'Yes, until midnight. They're starting the new books at midnight Until then, the drinks art on the house. And continuous entertainment. I just wondered if you knew.'
'Stop wondering, Mr. Crosser,' Mike said. 'Goodnight, Mr. Crosser.'
The guy murmured, 'Goodnight,' and took his leave.
The brothers stared at each other for a moment, then Mike said, 'Well, that was pretty quick. I passed the word east just a few hours ago.'
'They can move fast when they want to,' Pat replied, shrugging 'You remember when Bugsy got his.'
'Sure, but that was set up,' Mike said. 'They had time to run someone in beforehand. But this time…'
'Maybe we should go talk to this new blood,' Pat said. 'He should check with us before he goes boarding up the place.'
'Why? That's not our action.'
'At a time like this, everything is our action.'
'May as well get a free drink anyway, eh?' the bodyguard said.
Mikt frowned at that and declared, 'Hell, I don't want our boys sopping that stuff up.' He stood up, stretched, and rubbed his belly. 'I never heard of this Vinton. Did you?'
'Not by that name, no. Let's go talk to him.'
'Okay. But you'll find he's just another green felt jerk.'
'Maybe. Maybe not,' Pat said. He flipped his cigar over the railing, showed his brother a smile, and said, 'Let's go see.'
Chapter Fifteen
All bets in
Bolan told the controller, 'Don't give me that noise! You pull it outta the goddam vault and you count it!'
'Mr. Vinton,' the flustered man protested, 'we have certified...'
'You shove your certifieds up your own ass, not mine!' Bolan roared. 'A new deal gets a new deck, don't it?'
'The house stakes, sir, are...'
Bolan grabbed the guy by the throat and shook him until his eyes were rolling Then he threw him back against the wall. 'You're making me wonder, controller,' he said, in a voice quivering with pretended rage. 'Just what th' hell're you trying to cover up?'
'We'll count it, sir,' the terrified man agreed.
'I wanta see it with my own eyes, all 375-thou' of it. I wanta see it sitting there on the counting tables,
