Three
That had a familiar ring to it. Here was a man who was part of the biggest g**g of thieves and murderers the world had ever known, but he had to try to prove he was a good American—so good that if I didn’t do the job the way he thought I ought to, he’d deal out his own brand of justice.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him with a smile. “If I don’t do a good job, I won’t be around for you to do anything about it.”
“They play rough over there, huh?”
“They play so rough they have guys that would make some of your boys look like ping-pong players.”
He frowned, then laughed. “Yeah, I guess maybe they’re pretty good at it. Well, good luck.”
I went out to the car. This time I started to get in the front seat with the chauffeur.
“Better sit in the back,” he said. “We’re being tailed an
