by William R. Cox
A whisper into the mouthpiece …
a name, a place …
and maybe that night a black truck would careen up the El aimed at Steve Galloway. Or it could be a knife, or a gun.
Galloway knew all this. But Sam, who had raised him, was dead … dead at the hands of these civilized killers, these quiet, dark men who dealt in corruption and decay.
So Galloway fought them anyway — with all the wildness of the black Irish in him — and he almost had them when the house fell in on him … for he found himself in love with his enemy’s girl. He knew, somewhere in Greater New York, and in a matter of hours, a phone would be lifted and over the wires would hum … the message of death …
Electronic edition available from Piccadilly Publishing. Produced under license with Piccadilly Publishing.
