Normally he’d be pleased to feel that thickness and weight there in his jacket. But this was no normal wad and there was no comfort in it. If anything it was a reminder of how easily he’d been trumped. Worse still there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it. Kelly ground his teeth as he stomped down Pell Street. McManus, Spanish, and Kid Dropper followed with glum resignation, walking fast to keep up. When the boss was like this it was best not to follow too closely. They climbed the stairs to the station of the Second Avenue El a few blocks away with Kelly still in a brooding silence. Jack mused on them taking the El like common citizens. The boss could afford a chauffeured barouche if he wanted, or one of the new automobiles, but those things meant nothing to him. Despite his sophistication, the boss still had the common touch. “Jack,” Kelly said with a twist of his head to indicate he’d like to talk to him alone, “I have a job for you.” He trusted McManus about as much as he trusted any man alive.
