consolidate and, under a unified direction, attempt to extend their operations to the rest of the city. That meant three major organizations, each holding sovereignty over a certain section but struggling to gain the territory controlled by the others. It was going to be a grand fight, and a bloody one, with the big profits going to the gang that could shoot the straightest and whose leader could think the fastest. And Tony welcomed the coming battle, every wily, murderous phase of it.
He reached under the desk suddenly and, pressing a button there, summoned Al, the little, rat-faced gangster who acted as office boy and outer door-keeper.
"I want somebody to do something for me," he said. "See who's downstairs and let me know right away."
In five minutes Al was back, and recited a list of the gangsters who were loafing in the cigar store below. Tony considered a moment.
"Tell Mike Rinaldo to come up here," he ordered finally.
Mike proved to be a slender, dark young man, foppishly dressed in the latest fashion, and with a somewhat elegant manner. In evening clothes, he could have passed as a foreign nobleman at a
