Close beside the Chief he saw the gloating, malignant face of Gavegan;
Casey, who had been restless since the beginning of the scene, had
moved to the window and was gazing down into Center Street.
For a moment Larry did not reply. Barlow mistook Larry's silence for
wavering, or the beginning of an inclination to yield.
"You turn that over in your noodle," Barlow drove on. "You're going to
go crooked, anyhow, so you might as well go crooked in the only way
that's safe for you. I'm going to have Gavegan and Casey watch you,
and if in the next few days you don't begin to string along with
Barney and Old Jimmie and that bunch, and if you don't get me word
that your answer to my proposition is 'yes,' hell's going to fall on
you! Now get out of here!"
Larry got out. He was liquid lava of rage inside; but he had had
enough to do with police power to know that it would help him not at
all to permit an eruption against a police official while he was in
the very heart of the police stronghold.
He walked back toward his own street in a fury, beneath which was
subconsciously an element of uneasiness: an uneasiness which would
have been instantly roused to caution had he known that Barney Palmer
had this hour and more been following him in a taxicab, and that
across the street from the car's window Barney's sharp face had
watched him enter Police Headquarters and had watched him emerge.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102