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alone because he’s smart. At least, he used to be.”
    “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “Doyle’s never adopted the guineas’ love for violence and he runs tight gambling houses. You don’t run guns or white powder and your booze is cheap and decent.”
    “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
    “Your low profile has been your greatest asset,” Doherty went on. “But nights like tonight don’t help. People are taking notice. People in Albany, like Governor Roosevelt. Now, I know you’re not going to like hearing this, but Archie’s been letting things get out of hand and it’s been going on for a while now.”
    “Bullshit. Archie’s as strong as he ever was.”
    But Doherty had a point to make. “I know you owe the man a lot and so do I, but he’s been in the papers a lot lately. Parties. Show biz people. Sports guys. It doesn’t look good. People think he’s getting soft and someone taking a shot at Fatty tonight proves it. Maybe someone should remind him about paying more attention to business.”
    “This is rich,” Quinn countered. “Some punk takes a pot shot at Fatty and everyone thinks the sky is falling.”
    “Would someone have had the balls to even think about doing shooting Fatty a year ago?” Doherty asked. “Six months ago?”
    Quinn wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
    “This wasn’t an accident, Quinn. It was a warning that if he’s not going to pay attention to the street, someone else will. Like it or not, Archie looks shaky right now. I know it’s not easy to hear, but you know I’m right.”
    “Archie’s still in charge and he’s going to keep being in charge. If people need to be reminded of that fact, I’ll remind them.”
    “You don’t listen so good,” Doherty warned. “I just told you we leave you alone because you boys run a tight shop. You start getting sloppy, then we’ve got to start paying more attention to you.” Doherty lightly poked him in the chest. “And that hurts all of us.”
    Quinn looked down at the finger, then at Doherty. Quinn didn’t like lectures. He liked being poked even less.
    “More attention could hurt a lot of people,” he said. “Wives could find out where their cop husbands really spend their nights. Newspapers might find out just how much Chief Carmichael gets paid off every month.”
    “You bastard,” Doherty said. “Here I am, giving you fair warning and treating you like a friend and...”
    “You’re talking like a goddamned spectator,” Quinn accused. “An innocent bystander watching a parade go by. But you’re not. You’re in that line of marchers right next to us, Charlie and you’d better start acting that way.”
    Doherty tried to say something, but Quinn talked over him. “You were right when you said Doyle’s connected to a lot of people in this town. So if he goes down, a lot of other people go with him. Including Mayor Walker and Chief Carmichael.” Quinn poked Doherty in the chest. “Including you.”
    “Christ,” Doherty sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
    “I need information. Do you and the boy genius back there have any leads on the shooter?”
    “No,” Doherty admitted. “No one got a clear look at the bastard. He got away before anyone got a good look at him.”
    Doherty was tough to read, but Quinn figured he was telling the truth.
    With Doherty, you could never be sure. “Let me know if you turn anything up. I’ll do the same. The quicker this goes away, the quicker things go back to normal. Now let’s get back to Halloran. He’s beginning to look lonesome.”
    Quinn started back toward his car when Doherty grabbed his arm. “We work together and we work smart, understand. Anymore bloodshed
    and Albany’s going to get involved. No one wants that.”
    “Bloodshed?” Quinn smiled. “Come on, Charlie. You know I hate violence.”

Q UINN HIT an all night drug store west of Fifth Avenue and called Frank Sanders, letting him know Johnny the Kid was on his