"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 209 - Crime Over Miami" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

On this particular evening, two men chanced to meet on a side street just off Biscayne Boulevard. One
was sleek and smooth-faced; his olive complexion seemed unusually sallow, in contrast to his white
gabardine suit and Panama hat. The other, heavier of build, had a broad face, topped by a high forehead.
His head was hatless; he was wearing a light summer suit of dark gray.

Their eyes met in mutual recognition, but neither showed a change of expression. Almost by accident, it
seemed, they strolled in the same direction, toward a convenient arcade that was well lighted, but not
thronged. Being casual was part of their act; they were a pair of crooks who knew how to cover their
identities.

The sallow man, in white, was Lee Clesson, ace of swindlers, who handled all big con games in town.
The broad-faced, gray-clad individual was Hawk Silvey, who pulled the strings in every major robbery
that occurred in Greater Miami. Each was an important cog in the criminal machine that was active during
the current season.

Crime had taken a new turn in Miami. Behind it was a brain who worked through lieutenants like Clesson
and Silvey. Yet, like the devilfish of tropical climes, that brain was hidden. On the surface, all was much
as usual. Con men, stick-up specialists were active, as always, but this year they were taking orders.

There were indications of the new regime. Crime was taking a more than normal toll, whereas arrests
were below par. There was other evidence, too, that criminals had banded for the season, but, so far, the
law had gained but scattered inklings of systematized crime.

Investigation had not yet disclosed lieutenants like Lee Clesson and Hawk Silvey, aces in the hand of a
hidden master criminal whose existence was scarcely suspected. Storm warnings were out; but how hard
crime's hurricane might hit, was still a matter of sheer speculation.

Two men, at least, knew certain phases of crime's strength; those two were Lee Clesson and Hawk
Silvey. As they emerged from the arcade, they continued to a common goal, a pretentious side-street
doorway that bore the sign:

PALMETTO CASINO

The place in question rated as a private club. It was open to members only, though the qualifications
were not strict. The Palmetto Casino had been nurtured through several seasons by Commodore
Denfield, long known in aristocratic gambling circles.

No one knew how far the commodore expected to get with his venture; but certain things were evident.
Unless he anticipated some lucrative future, Denfield would not have opened the casino. Once having
opened it, he had been on constant watch for any changes in local policies that might further his
enterprise.

A man of reputed wealth, experienced in the handling of gambling establishments, Commodore Denfield
had a unique reputation. Though of doubtful repute in higher social circles, he was strictly apart from the
underworld.

Similarly, though famed for his willingness to take risks, Denfield made it a policy to stay within the limits
of the law. Whenever he pushed himself into trouble, the far-sighted commodore provided himself with
means for a graceful retreat.