CHAPTER TWOCLOVIS
Chicago—June, 1932
I
Travis Hahn surveyed the midnight scene in Carlazzi’s with a feeling of well-being, tinged with a vague regret that everything was not exactly as it might be. He leaned against the satin-backed corner seat behind his favourite table, set with the snowy napery, gleaming glass and silver; regarded the other inmates of the smart night club with a half smile which might have meant anything.
Not that Chicago wasn’t good, thought Travis. Chi was all right. The Windy City was living up to its reputation. It was wide open for a smart guy. Prohibition had opened up a dozen professions, trades, rackets for any one with the brains to work them. And he was in the best of them and still going up. Unless…
On the other side of the room, drinking champagne, were
