"All right," he said when the three men had completed their fruitless search and the prisoner was indignantly donning his coat. "You," pointing the pistol at the captive, "sit down there. The rest of you wait outside until I call you."
He toyed silently with the weapon until the door had closed behind his men. Then he looked at Peluso and stared at him until the man's glance dropped.
"Do you know where you are?" demanded Tony suddenly.
"Yeah," snarled the prisoner.
"Speak nicer if you expect to get out of here alive," snapped Tony. "Do you know who I am?"
"No."
“Well, I'm Scarface Tony Camonte, the new chief of the Lovo mob. And I'm just about ten times as hard-boiled as Johnny Lovo ever thought of bein'. I've bumped off six or eight myself and another one—especially a rat like you—wouldn't mean a thing in my young life. Get me?”
“Yeah.” But the man's tone now had changed from defiant anger to sullenness and his glance remained riveted hypnotically to that pistol.
"There's some things I want to know. And you're goin' to tell me."
