Jesso sat back too. He took his time lighting a smoke, and this time he didn’t toss the match, but placed it in the tray as if he had nothing else on his mind.

“Gluck,” he said, “there’s two things I don’t like. One, I’m not working for you. I didn’t before you came, I’m not doing it now. Two, I don’t goof. We been after a tie-in with those two clubs in Vegas for a long time. Those two were outsiders and we wanted in, right? They been using our bonding company, the money outfit that started right here with dough I put out long before you ever came along. We put up their bond and they never came across with their percentage off the tables. Now, you know I want in, I know you want in. So what did you and your glorified bookie friends do about it? Nothing. So I did. I don’t horse around sending messages on business stationery. I go out there. We’re in for a cut on those clubs right now. What would have taken you another year I did in twenty-four hours. And that was yesterday.”

“Bravo,” said Gluck, but he wasn’t smiling. “And now I tell you why you goofed.” He squeeked his chair around and lit the dying butt again. “Let’s not talk about your taking off without my say-so. With you, I’ll overlook that. Let’s talk about what Limpy told me. Limpy called from Vegas and says you’re there seeing Buchanan and that sidekick of his. You’re seeing them about the percentage from their clubs. Next thing, you’re ready to leave town, the percentage guarantee all settled in your favor-and Buchanan in the hospital.”

Gluck paused, trying to make an impression. Jesso just sat, because it didn’t mean a thing to him.

“You roughed him up!” Gluck yelled, and it came so suddenly that Jesso wasn’t sure he’d heard it right. “You caused a stink, you lousy moron!”

Gluck sat down again, and except for the color of his face he looked as settled as before.

So did Jesso. He crossed his legs and said, “Say that again, President?”