"I guess maybe you on the level," he said. "Standard fee. Five hundred,
Old Federal notes."
I had to be careful now. I held a bland expression, reached
in--slowly--took out my wallet. I extracted two hundred-C notes and
held them out.
Naples looked at them, unmoving. The thug in the dirty overcoat moved
up close, and suddenly swung the edge of his palm at my wrist. I was
ready; I flicked my hand aside and chopped him hard at the base of the
neck. He dropped.