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Vantagio was signing papers that Mortie had been holding out. He counted five hundred into his palm.

Mortie and Bang-Bang jumped into the cab and with a roar, smoke and clatter were gone.

Vantagio and Heller got back into the elevator. “Now we got to go up,” said Vantagio, “and phone Babe and tell her what a great idea I had. No, on the other hand, you phone her from your suite and tell her you thought it up. Tradition is the key to her character, kid. And when you mix tradition and sentiment, it’s a winner every time. Old ‘Holy Joe’ got his start running hooch in cabs just like that!”

“You’re a wonder,” said Heller.

“Yes, you do what I tell you and you’ll be in the money every time. Just remember that, kid.”

I was baffled, utterly baffled. What was Heller doing with two cars? He already had that old Cadillac being specially rebuilt and didn’t seem to be in any rush for it, yet here was this cab being rushed through. For once, some sixth sense — which you can’t do without in the Apparatus — told me that this went beyond the Fleet toy fetish. I writhed. (Bleep) him, he was going too fast! Too fast! He could finish up and accomplish something and ruin me!

Chapter 4

Because I knew that on Sunday, coming right up, he was going to have his first Nature Appreciation class with Miss Simmons — who, I was sure, would do him in — I was not terribly interested in what happened to Heller the rest of that Saturday night and scanned him only lightly.

The two South American diplomats were completely unimportant. Vantagio brought them over to Heller and introduced them — they had names about a yard long. Heller was wearing a silk and mohair tuxedo with diamond cuff links and studs but these two South Americans put him to shame with black embroidery on their powder blue tuxedos and lace all over their chests: it heartened me to see Heller outdone.

They had an International Bank loan to build a lot of bridges and they’d heard Heller was a student engineer and they didn’t think the bridges would stand up. So they showed him some drawings and he told them to float both ends of the bridges so the earthquakes couldn’t affect them. He even drew them some little sketches to show their contracting firm. But I knew it was all silly — a bridge crosses water, you don’t stick its ends in the water. But South Americans are polite and they went away beaming. Riffraff.

The only other thing that happened was also disgusting. Stuffumo and the kris-wielding deputy delegate that Heller had unfairly disarmed sought him out where he sat behind some palm fronds — he sat there often as it half hid him from the door.

They had an ornate box and they were both holding on to it. Both speaking English in chorus, they stood in front of him and said, “Thank you for your mediation on the treaty subject of Harlotta. Our two countries have united to give you a token of appreciation. There has never been such peace.”

They opened up the box and there, in purple velvet, lay a Llama .45 caliber, large-frame automatic pistol finished in gold damascene and gold butt plates, with the coats of arms of their two countries intertwined with a heart. Some engraver had been working overtime at vast expense! It had extra magazines and fifty shells. It also had a back belt holster with a white dove of peace and Prince X engraved on it. Aside from the fact that it was all chased with gold instead of being black, it looked just like a gangster gun, an Army Colt .45.

Heller thanked them and they went away beaming.

It absolutely ruined my dawn sleep! The idea of getting a beautiful weapon like that for some petty, trifling, cheap trick! And he had obtained it unfairly, too! Masquerading under a false identity. “Prince X” indeed! He was just a Fleet combat engineer with middle-class origins like mine. I even outranked him! What an awful waste of a fine handgun!

So, as I say, I was really looking forward to Miss Simmons!

Around nine in the morning, New York time, the interference went off in his suite. But was he bustling out to go to his Sunday class? No! He was certainly taking a perverted angle on Nature Appreciation!

The first thing that came on the screen was the back of a girl’s neck. She was a brunette and she was evidently lying face down on the sofa, head to one side, arm trailing limply to the rug, the very picture of exhaustion.

Heller was stroking the back of her neck, sort of working at it with his thumbs. There was a silver pitcher on a nearby table and, in peripheral vision, I could see that he was wearing a white bathrobe and sitting on the edge of the couch above the half-naked girl.

“Oh,” she was groaning, “I think I’m going to die!”

Heller was working at the back of her neck with his thumbs. “There, there,” he said soothingly. “You’ll be all right, Myrtle.”

She groaned again. “Seventeen times is too many!”

“Can you lift your head now?” said Heller.

She tried and groaned. “I feel like I’ve been raped by an elephant.”

“I’m sorry,” said Heller.

Suddenly I understood. This monster had really been abusing this poor girl! And she was a pretty girl, too, as I could see, now that she had turned on her side.

“It is better, honey,” she said. “Jesus, I don’t want another night like that!”

Aha, so he was not as popular with these girls as I had thought!

She got up unsteadily, got hold of her robe as an afterthought and half-heartedly covered her nakedness.

“You go get a bath,” said Heller, “and a nice sleep and you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, Jesus, I hope so. Can I come back later?”

My Gods, I thought. He has effected a transference on this poor girl! Enslaved her into chronic masochism!

“I’ve got a Nature Appreciation class at one,” said Heller.

“I’ve had all the nature I can appreciate for the moment,” said Myrtle and stumbled, barefooted and half-clad from his room. The poor, abused creature.

Heller called down for some breakfast and while he was waiting, got on the phone. No wonder I couldn’t keep track of him. He was transacting business under the cover of the interference. Sneaky!

A kid came on.

“Let me talk to Mike Mutazione,” said Heller. And when the kid had put “papa” on the line, Heller said, “Sorry to bite into your Sunday, Mike. But did you get the cab?”

“Sure thing, kid. A beauty! Fix her up in no time!”

“Great. Now listen, Mike. I am sending you over a little bottle of stuff. I’ll write the full directions. But I want you to put it in the paint as an additive. That’s on the exterior body and in any of the signs you paint on it. It is easy. It just mixes into whatever paint you use. So when you get the motor and glass and body and upholstery work done, only use paint with this additive in it.”

“Makes it shinier?” said Mike.

“Something like that,” said Heller. “I’ll send the little vial over. It’ll be there by the time you’re ready.”

“Sure, kid, no trouble. The Caddy is doing fine. Bit of a holdup with the new engine but it’s on its way. So are the new alloy pistons. She’ll do 190 when we’re done.” Mike laughed. “You’ll have to keep the brakes on to keep her from taking off for the moon.”

“Take your time on it,” said Heller. “The cab I’d like yesterday.”

“You’ll get it, kid. Want to come over and go to Mass with us?”

“Today is my day for Nature Appreciation. Thanks just the same, Mike. Ciao.”

Mass? These (bleeped) Sicilians would be converting him to Christianity next!

His breakfast came, starting with a huge chocolate sundae. The waiter had no more than gone out the door when a gorgeous, slinky blonde came in.