Fast One
Book Description
a selection from Chapter One: KELLS walked north on Spring. At Fifth he turned west, walked two blocks, turned into a small cigar store. He nodded to the squat bald man behind the counter and went on through the ground-glass-paneled door into a large and bare back room. The man sitting at a wide desk stood up, said, "Hello" heartily, went to another door and opened it, said: "Walk right in." Kells...
Morea selection from Chapter One: KELLS walked north on Spring. At Fifth he turned west, walked two blocks, turned into a small cigar store. He nodded to the squat bald man behind the counter and went on through the ground-glass-paneled door into a large and bare back room. The man sitting at a wide desk stood up, said, "Hello" heartily, went to another door and opened it, said: "Walk right in." Kells went into a very small room, partitioned off from the other by ground-glass-paneled walls. He sat down on a worn davenport against one wall, leaned back, folded his hands over his stomach, and looked at Jack Rose. Rose sat behind a round green-topped table, his elbows on the table, his long chin propped upon one hand. He was a dark, almost too handsome young man who had started life as Jake Rosencrancz, of Brooklyn and Queens. He said: "Did you ever hear the story about the three bears?" Kells nodded. He sat regarding Rose gravely and nodded his head slowly up and down. Rose was smiling. "I thought you'd have heard that one." He moved the fingers of one hand down to his ear and pulled violently at the lobe. "Now you tell one. Tell me the one about why you've got such a load on Kiosque in the fourth race." Kells smiled faintly, dreamily. He said: "You don't think I'd have an inside that you'd overlooked, do you, Jakie?" He got up, stretched extravagantly and walked across the room to inspect a large map of Los Angeles County on the far wall. Rose didn't change his position, he sat staring vacantly at the davenport. "I can throw it to Bolero." Kells strolled back, stood beside the table. He looked at a small watch on the inside of his left wrist, said: "You might get a wire to the track, Jakie, but you couldn't reach your Eastern connections in time." He smiled with gentle irony. "Anyway, you've got the smartest book on the Coast-the smartest book west of the Mississippi, by God! You wouldn't want to take any chances with that big Beverly Hills clientele, would you?" He turned and walked back to the davenport, sank wearily down and again folded his hands over his stomach. "What's it all about? I pick two juicy winners in a row and you squawk. What the hell do you care how many I pick?-the Syndicate's out, not you."
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