"Jeez!" he exclaimed. "Dat's a lotta jack, even if y'ain't got it."
"I've got it. And it's yours if you want to talk."
"What do you want to know?"
"That's more like it," smiled Tony. "I want to know a lot of things about the Bruno mob, where their warehouses are, and their breweries and their main alky cooking plants. I want to know what garages they keep their trucks in and what roads they use mainly in haulin' their stuff in and out of town. I'll think of a few more things as we go along."
"God! I couldn't tell you all dat stuff."
"Why not?"
"Dey'd bump me off sure."
"Well, if you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll bump you off."
"An' if I do tell you, dey will. What chance has a poor guy got?"
"Listen, mug!" snapped Tony. "Don't you know that fifteen grand's a lot of dough? That's as much as you make in a year with the mob, and if you stay here with them you'll never have that much in one chunk. If you had that much jack, you could go to Frisco or New York or even Mexico or some other crazy place and open a gambling house or
