The retinue laughed as they stirred themselves and moved toward the doors. Axel Steele held a door open for Harper, who stood back to let the girl through ahead of him. Then he followed. Another set of glass doors several feet away made the area into a small anteroom before the rest of the corridor leading to the restaurant. In this space a thin young man was waiting. He was black, nicely dressed in a new raincoat, a pink shirt collar and pale tie showing beneath his chin. He drew a pistol from his coat pocket and aimed it at the champion.
Harper put his hands up automatically the way he had done in childhood games on the back streets of Chicago. “Hey now,” he said.
Axel Steele dropped his arm and the door swung shut, leaving Harper and Mary-Jo alone on the other side with the gunman. “Nobody move,” Steele said.
“You betrayed the people, Harper,” the young man said. “You sold out. You’ve got to go.”
“Wait a minute,” Harper said. “You’ve got it wrong.”
Danny White appeared, moving along the corridor behind the young man’s back. He took in the situation at a glance, advanced quickly, flung open the glass door, and before the man could change his aim Danny lifted the gun with his left hand and drove a right jab to the jaw. It had the sound of a perfectly timed punch. The gunman fell against the wall, unconscious.
Now everybody was talking, crowding into the enclosed space. More guards arrived and took away the would-be assassin. Hanneford Harper got hold of Danny White’s arm. “Hey, you’re beautiful. I like those moves.”
“That’s what we get paid for,” Danny said, face to face with the champion, feeling the effect of his size.
“You don’t get paid enough.” Harper was gleeful as a child. “Hey, Axel, did you see this guy go to work? Wham, bam, it was lights out!”
The public address cut in and a bland voice announced that fog conditions had not improved and that all take-offs were postponed until at least 1600 hours.
Mary-Jo swore. “That’s over five hours to kill.”
“Don’t say kill, baby,” Harper said. “I told you I’ve got a feeling about this place.”
The fighter’s manager gnawed at his lower lip. Then he said, “Hell with this. I’m calling the Starways Motel down the road. They know me. I’ll get us a few rooms, we can relax, have some drinks.”
“Now you’re talking,” Mary-Jo said.
“And my friend Sudden Death is the guest of honor. O.K.?” Harper beamed at Danny. “Can you come over?”
“I can get off during the afternoon. Yeah, I’ll come over.”
“Good.” Then Harper said, “Hey, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Danny. Danny White.”
Axel Steele looked up. “The name rings a bell,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you ever do any fighting?”
“I used to box a little.”
“You’re a fighter,” Harper said. “That explains the jab.”
Around midday, Danny walked by the bar in the main passenger lounge. Trevor Malloy, in his red waiter’s jacket, was unloading dirty glasses from a tray. He saw his friend approaching and said, “I thought you’d be up in the supervisor’s office getting your medal.”
“You heard?” Danny’s euphoria was rising.
“Everybody’s talking about it. You must have moved fast.”
“I was lucky.”
“I think you were a bloody fool. They don’t pay you to be a cowboy. You’re supposed to collar pickpockets.”
“They’re having a party at the Starways this afternoon. Harper asked me over.”
“Drinking with the champ. That can’t be bad.”
“Not just drinking with him.”
“Sorry?”
“Something else is going to happen.”
Malloy was scanning the sparsely populated lounge for orders. “Give us a call when you get back to earth,” he said.
Danny White found a telephone kiosk and dialed his home number. Barbara answered. She told him she’d been at the shops with Carla and had something to ask him. Would he mind if she disappeared for a while?
“Disappear where?”
“Devon. Carla’s mother is going into hospital and she’s going home for a couple of weeks. She says Janice and I can come along.”
“If it’s what you want, go ahead.”
“Thanks very much. Typical.”
“I can’t beg you to stay.”
“Why not? You could have said, ‘Please don’t go, Barbara. I’ll be lonely without you and Janice.’ ” After a long silence on the line, Barbara said, “Hello?”
“Have you been listening to the radio?”
“No, I just got back.”
“I expect you’ll hear my name on the news.”
Barbara was alarmed. “What happened?”
Danny told her about the encounter, saving Harper’s life, and about the afternoon party he had been invited to attend. “I was in the right place at the right time.”
The party was moderately off the ground when Danny arrived at the motel in mid-afternoon. Hanneford Harper was sitting with Mary-Jo and Axel Steele, listening to the manager, his eyes half closed. But he spotted Danny the moment he entered the suite and rose to meet him. “Hey, here’s my main man. Come on in, Danny. What are you drinking?”
“Just a beer, thanks.”
“Mary-Jo, get Danny a beer.” Harper put an arm around Danny’s shoulders. One black, the other blond, the two heavyweights were nearly of a size. “I can’t think of anything else. That cat had me dead. How can I pay you back?”
Danny said, “I’ll think of something.” He looked Harper in the eyes and they both laughed.
Axel Steele was watching Danny with a sour expression on his face. “I know something about you, kid. But I can’t remember it.”
“I told you, I used to box.”
“But I know all the pros. How come your name rings a bell but I can’t put a record with it?”
“I fought mostly as an amateur.”
“Hey, Axel,” Harper said, “cut out the quiz.”
“Can’t I settle my mind? There’s something about this guy.”
The party continued with everybody becoming nicely drunk except Danny, who nursed his original beer. He talked with Mary-Jo and learned she was a Canadian who had met the champ in a Montreal show bar where she was a dancer. She was several drinks ahead of him, and warned Danny that Axel Steele hated him for hitting it off so fast with Harper.
“All I did was help the man, and he’s grateful to me,” Danny said.
“It’s more than that. The way Hanneford looks at you. His arm around you all the time. You’re some kind of charm that’s walked into his life, and Steele can’t get that down his throat.”
Somebody found music on the radio and a couple began to dance. Axel Steele snapped an order to have the volume lowered. Then he narrowed his eyes at Danny. “The pieces just fell into place — Danny White.”
“Axel,” Harper said, “you sound like a man with a toothache.”
“Danny White. Won everything there was in the amateurs. They said when you turned pro there was going to be a New White Hope.”
Harper was pleased. “Is that true, Danny? Were you that good?”
“Wait,” Steele said. “He turned pro and they put him in against that tough South American. Not ranked, but very strong. And he cleaned your clock. Took you apart for six rounds until your corner stopped it. You never fought again.”
“Is he right, Danny?” Harper asked.
“Sure he’s right. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“After only one pro fight?”
“It was big news here.” Danny had learned to face the humiliation at the time, but he’d been out of sight for almost three years. He felt the familiar sting around the eyes but he pressed on. “They had fun with my name. The reporters stopped referring to me as The New White Hope and started calling me Hopeless White.”