“I don’t think you know what you’ve got lined up.” Benny’s tone had grown high and squeaky with defiance.

“Spill, crumb.”

“Look. This . . . this information you got. It’s known here in Las Vegas, and the ones who know aren’t doing a damned thing about it. Lay off, Tom. Don’t touch it.”

“You must have a screw loose,” Big Tom growled into the phone.

“Maybe I have. I got a nose, too. This deal smells funny.”

“Now you lay it on the line or, by God, when we meet again I’ll stomp you flat.” The words were bitten off crisply, and Big Tom knew the effect they’d have on Benny in Las Vegas. Benny’s narrow face would be wet with sweat and his chest would be heaving. He’d be staring into the phone like a wild-eyed tomcat.

“I’ll . . . I’ll call you when I’ve got something,” Benny said in an almost inaudible voice. “Stick around.” To Big Tom’s disgust, the wire went dead. Benny Busick had hung up.

Big Tom slammed the receiver into its cradle. For a moment he remained in the chair, staring at the opposite wall. Then, with a hard angry look on his face, he went out to the kitchen. He stood by the drainboard and drummed his nails on the tile, looking out of doors through the window over the sink.

When his anger had subsided somewhat he went to the kitchen range, heated a cup of coffee left in the pot, drank it standing in the middle of the floor. A couple of cats had roused themselves from a midday nap and now came looking for lunch. Big Tom grumbled at them, meanwhile spooning processed fish into their bowl.

He went back to the living room, sat down, dialed a number on the phone. It rang twice before someone lifted the instrument at the opposite end of the wire. “Yeah? Hello?”

“Ranigan here.”

“Oh. Hey, wait a minute, will you?” The voice turned from the phone and spoke to someone else. “Doll . . . run down t’ the corner and get me some smokes, huh? Couple a cartons.”

A girl’s voice whined a complaint, dim in the distance.

“Be a good kid, huh? Filter tips, king size. The kind like it says on the TV, not a burp in a bellyful.”

The girl’s voice rose sharply in sarcasm. “Oh, Harry, you’re killing me!”

“Don’t forget t’ bring matches, two, three them little packs.”

She grouched: “Oh, okay, I’m going.”

Dimly Big Tom heard a door close behind her. Harry said, “She’s a good little twist; I just don’t want t’ explain everything t’ her.”

“Same one you had last year?” Big Tom said evenly.

“You mean Eva? Ah, she ran off with a bum, played the cornet in a dive, him and her are over t’ Phoenix now.”