“That’s settled, isn’t it? Let’s get the rest of the kicks squared.” I addressed Pete the Finn: “How do you feel about yesterday’s accident to your warehouse and the four men?”
“One hell of an accident,” he rumbled.
I explained:
“Noonan didn’t know you were using the joint. He went there thinking it empty, just to clear the way for a job in town. Your men shot first, and then he really thought he had stumbled into Thaler’s hideout. When he found he’d been stepping in your puddle he lost his head and touched the place off.”
Thaler was watching me with a hard small smile in eyes and mouth. Reno was all dull stolidity. Elihu Willsson was leaning toward me, his old eyes sharp and wary. I don’t know what Noonan was doing. I couldn’t afford to look at him. I was in a good spot if I played my hand right, and in a terrible one if I didn’t.
“The men, they get paid for taking chances,” Pete the Finn said. “For the other, twenty-five grand will make it right.”
Noonan spoke quickly, eagerly:
“All right, Pete, all right, I’ll give it to you.”
I pushed my lips together to keep from laughing at the panic in his voice.
I could look at him safely now. He was licked, broken, willing to do anything to save his fat neck, or to try to. I looked at him.
He wouldn’t look at me. He sat down and looked at nobody. He was busy trying to look as if he didn’t expect to be carved apart before he got away from these wolves to whom I had handed him.