But Andy Kelp was not a man to be deterred by hints. “If you aren’t busy…” he said, and gestured in a friendly fashion with the beer can.
Dortmunder looked at him. “If I’m not busy?”
“I thought we’d take a little run over to Wally’s place,” Kelp said, unruffled. “See how he’s coming along.”
“I’m coming along,” Dortmunder told him. “Don’t worry about it, I’m coming along fine.”
Kelp nodded and pointed at the messy table with his beer can, saying, “I took a look at some of that stuff while I was waiting.”
“I see that,” Dortmunder said. “Things are moved around.”
“You got some very tricky ideas in there,” Kelp said.
“Both,” Dortmunder told him. “Simple ideas and tricky ideas. Sometimes, you know, a simple idea’s a little too simple, and sometimes a tricky idea’s too tricky, so you got to concentrate on it and give it your attention and work it out.”
“Then after that, what you have to do,” Kelp suggested, “is take a break, walk away from it, come back refreshed.”
“I just went to the library,” Dortmunder pointed out. “I am refreshed.”
“You don’t look refreshed,” Kelp said. “Come on, I’ll give Wally a call, see if this is a good time to come over.”
Dortmunder frowned at that. “Give him a call? What do you mean, give him a call? Did you give me a call?”
Kelp didn’t get it. “I came over,” he said. “That’s what I do, isn’t it?”
“You come over,” Dortmunder said, gesturing at the table, “you go through the plans, you don’t give me any advance warning.”
“Oh, is that the problem?” Kelp shrugged. “Okay, fine, we won’t call, we’ll just go over.” He took a step toward the doorway, then stopped to look back and say, “You coming?”
Dortmunder couldn’t quite figure out how that had happened. He looked around at his table covered with half-thought-out plans. He had things to do here.
Kelp, in the doorway, said, “John? You coming? This was your idea, you know.”
Dortmunder sighed. Shaking his head, he got slowly to his feet and followed Kelp through the apartment. “Me and my ideas,” he said. “I just keep surprising myself.”
FOURTEEN
Kelp, leading the way up the battered stairs toward Wally Knurr’s battered door, said, “Anyway, the advantage, just dropping in like this, Wally won’t have a chance to bring out that cheese and crackers of his.”
Dortmunder didn’t answer. He was looking at the little red plastic crack-vial tops lying around on the steps, wondering what the letter T embossed on each one meant and how come crack producers felt it necessary to add a little styling detail like that fancy T to the packaging of their product. Also, as they climbed nearer and nearer to the wonder computer, Dortmunder was feeling increasingly surly, not so much because he’d been double-shuffled into coming here, but because he still couldn’t quite figure out how it had been done.
Well, it didn’t matter, did it? Because here they were. Kelp, to cut even further into Wally’s cheese-and-cracker foraging time, had let them into the building through the downstairs door without bothering to ring Wally’s apartment, so now, when they reached the top of the stairs, would be the first the computer dwarf would know of their visit. “I hope I don’t scare the little guy,” Kelp said, as he pushed the button.
“HANDS IN THE AIR!” boomed a voice, deep, resonant, authoritative, dangerously enraged. Dortmunder jumped a foot, and when he came down his hands were high in the air, clawing for the ceiling. Kelp, face ashen, seemed about to make a run for the stairs when the voice roared out again, more menacing than ever: “GET EM UP, YOU!” Kelp got em up. “FACE THE WALL!” Kelp and Dortmunder faced the wall. “ONE MOVE AN—tick— Oh, hi, Andy! Be right there.”
Hands up, facing the wall, Dortmunder and Kelp looked at each other. Slowly, sheepishly, they lowered their arms. “Cute,” said Dortmunder, adjusting the shoulders and cuffs of his jacket. Kelp had the grace to look away and say nothing.
Chiks and clonks sounded on the other side of the battered door, and then it swung open and the eighth dwarf stood smiling and bobbing in there, gesturing them in, saying, “Hi, Andy! I didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t ring the bell.”
“I guess I should have,” Kelp said, walking into the apartment, Dortmunder trailing after.
Wally looked around Dortmunder’s elbow at the hallway, saying, “The warlord didn’t come?”
Dortmunder frowned at Kelp, who frowned at Wally and said, “Huh?”
But Wally was busy closing and relocking the door, and when he turned to them, his broad moist face wreathed in smiles, he said, “I hope I didn’t scare you.”
“Oh, heck, no,” Kelp assured him, brushing it away with an easy hand gesture.
“This is a bad neighborhood, you know,” Wally said confidentially, as though there might be some people around who didn’t know that.
“I’m sure it is, Wally,” Kelp said.
“There are people out there,” Wally said, pointing at the closed door, and he shook his head in disbelief, saying, “I think they live in the hall, kind of. And sometimes they want to, you know, move in here.”
Dortmunder, who wasn’t feeling any less out of sorts for having been made a fool of, said, “So what do you do when you’ve got them lined up against the wall out there? Give them cheese and crackers?”
“Oh, they don’t line up,” Wally said. “It’s animal psychology. They run away.”
Kelp said, “Animal psychology? I thought you said it was people living out there.”
“Well, kind of,” Wally agreed. “But animal psychology’s what works. See, it’s kind of like a scarecrow, or blowing whistles at blue jays, or like when you shake a rolled-up newspaper so your dog can see it. They don’t stick around to see what you mean, they just run away.”
Dortmunder said, “But don’t they catch on after a while?”
“Oh, I’ve got all different tapes,” Wally explained. “On random feed. I’ve got one that sounds like a woman with a knife having a psychotic attack, one that sounds like Israeli commandos, Puerto—”
“I’m glad we didn’t get the woman with the knife,” Kelp said. “Then I might have been a little scared. Just for a minute.”
Dortmunder said, “Still and all. Sooner or later, they got to figure it out, every time they push that bell button, somebody starts yelling at them.”
“But they don’t,” Wally said, “that’s why it’s animal psychology. All they know is, every time they come up here and push the bell button to see if anybody’s home, something happens that makes them all nervous and upset. So it’s conditioning. These people live kind of on the edge of their nerves anyway, so they don’t like things that make them more nervous, so after a while they stop coming up here. It’s what you call association.”
Unwillingly, Dortmunder got the point. “You mean,” he said, “they associate coming up here with feeling nervous and upset.”
“That’s right,” Wally said, nodding and grinning and patting his pudgy little fingers in the air.
Kelp, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, his own recent nervousness and upset completely forgotten, said, “Well, when I come up here, what I feel is great! You been working on the old reservoir problem the last two days, Wally?”
An odd evasiveness, almost shiftiness, appeared in Wally’s eyes and demeanor. “Kind of,” he said.