Facing the Mob, a Complete Novelette

“SMOOTH” BRODY, due to receive fifteen yards in cash from the successful hijacking he had led the night before, let himself into the private office of Jimmy Claffey without knocking, lounged over to the desk. “Slip me,” he said to the chief of the High- Jack-Game mob. “Surest thing you know, kid,” Claffey produced a huge roll, meanwhile eyeing Smooth suspiciously. At his side on the desk lay a heavy automatic. Slowly he counted off ten fifties, pressing the bills into Smooth’s hands. The visitor let them drop to the table top. “A grand short,” he snapped. “Keep thumbing