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 consolidate and, under a unified direction, attempt to extend their operations to the rest of the city. That meant three major organizations, each hold­ing sovereignty over a certain section but strug­gling to gain the territory controlled by the others. It was going to be a grand fight, and a bloody one, with the big profits going to the gang that could shoot the straightest and whose leader could think the fastest. And Tony welcomed the coming bat­tle, every wily, murderous phase of it.

He reached under the desk suddenly and, press­ing a button there, summoned Al, the little, rat-faced gangster who acted as office boy and outer door-keeper.

"I want somebody to do something for me," he said. "See who's downstairs and let me know right away."

In five minutes Al was back, and recited a list of the gangsters who were loafing in the cigar store below. Tony considered a moment.

"Tell Mike Rinaldo to come up here," he ordered finally.

Mike proved to be a slender, dark young man, foppishly dressed in the latest fashion, and with a somewhat elegant manner. In evening clothes, he could have passed as a foreign nobleman at a