are interested in seeing that this Dillon is laid up for a while, see? Fixed so he can't run his car for a few days. Not hurt badly, you understand, but just beat up enough so he'll have to go to bed and can't run the car."
"Sure—I get you. That won't take much. He's an old man."
"I know. But everybody along the block is his friend. They'll pile on in case of a general rough house. You'll have to work quietly. Get him when he brings the car into the barn after a trip. Just sock him a few and then beat it."
"O.K., boss. When do you want it done—right away?"
"No," Carter replied hastily. "I want you to wait definite word from me before you do a thing. It will be tomorrow anyway before I give the word. I want to see first whether Dillon will listen to reason. If he doesn't, he'll have to take the consequences."
"All right, boss. I'll wait for the word from you."
The ill-matched pair rose, shook hands and parted. Carter had told his taxi to wait. He now reclaimed it and gave the driver an address in the 50's just off Fifth Avenue, Carter's own apartment. Still keeping the taxi, he got out in front of an impressive concrete and marble apartment house, was whisked up to the third floor in the elevator and opened a door with his latch key. In ten minutes he was back in the cab again with a suitcase and was heading again toward De Lacey Street.
