“We have buyer who pay-a top doll-a.”
The guy talked like an Eye-talian. Another damned guinea. More every day. “Who?”
“Top doll-a.”
“Who, damn you?”
“You.”
“Me? What are you talking about?”
“We no steal your heroin.”
“You just said you did.”
“We no steal it. We kidnap it.”
McBean swung his feet to the floor. Cold steel pressed to his forehead. He ignored it and made to stand up. Then he felt a needle prick between his ribs, and the voice in the dark said, “I’m-a four inches from inside your heart.”
McBean sagged back on the bed. “Ransom? You’re holding our dope for ransom?”
“You make-a distributor system. You sell it.”
“You ‘make-a’ war on us.”
The Italian surprised him, saying, “You win-a the war.”
“Better believe it.”
“Not how you think. You make-a Fordham College. You make-a Boston University. Me? Steamer Class for stupid dago.”
“What are you gassin’ about?”
“I have more hungry men than you. Micks move up. Dagos just start. Ten years, you all be college men. Ten years, we own the docks.”
“You’ll never own the docks.”
He laughed. “We make-a side bet. After you pay-a ransom.”
“What if I don’t?”
“We dump drugs in river.”
“Geez . . . O.K. How much?”
“Half value.”
“I gotta talk to my cousin.”
“Ed Hunt said no deal.”
“Ed already said no deal? Then no deal.”
“Hunt died.”
“Ed’s dead?”
“Do we have deal?”