There was something else here, too, something that frightened Skip more than the blow. The old man exuded a terrific authority. He was boss, kingfish, top banana, and he knew it. Skip tried to feel his way past that bulwark of power, and couldn’t. There was no softness, no pity. The old man stood over Skip with the Luger balanced in his palm and he had Skip under control as he would have controlled a puppy.

Skip crouched, rubbing his aching head, and stared across the room at Uncle Willy. Willy looked back with a sort of mild sympathy, as if he was sorry that Big Tom had had to do what he had done. Skip tried to figure out where his uncle had located this character so quickly, and came to the conclusion that Willy must still have some connections with his old organization. He had dug Big Tom out of his past, and now the job was being taken away from Skip and given over to this old con. Skip thought he would have pegged Tom for an old con even in passing him on the street.

Willy said mildly, “Now straighten up, Skip, and listen to reason.”

Skip said nothing. Words boiled in his mind, but he knew what he would get in return if he spoke them.

“He’ll be all right now,” said Big Tom, putting the gun back into his belt at his belly. “He just needed a little lesson.”

The ringing was leaving Skip’s ears. The pain remained at the side of his skull. He looked from Willy to Big Tom and thought, There’s going to be a way to pay this back.

Big Tom sat down again. “I want to talk to you about this Eddie Barrett.” He waited, as if he might expect some remark from Skip. “I want to know what he expects out of this thing.”

“Money,” said Skip gratingly.

“Don’t get sassy with me,” Big Tom warned. “I mean, what’re his plans? What’s he want to do afterwards?”

Skip blinked, then lowered his eyes. He knew that some importance attached to his answer. He wished he knew in what way so that he could reply in a way to screw things up. Everything he could do now, short of outright rebellion, he meant to throw in their way.

Finally he thought, It’s too soon. I don’t know enough yet. He said, “Eddie’s mother is sick. He wants to help her, pay for a doctor or something. The old man drinks and raises hell. Eddie wants to get away from him. At least, that’s what he talks about.”

“What does he want for himself? Clothes? A car?”

“Yeah, a car.”

“Does he have a girl?”

“Not that I know of.”

Big Tom sat in silence, as if digesting this information. Willy said, “Tell us about Las Vegas, now. What did you find out?”