"All right," the Wabbit said at last, and they slipped out. The old man and woman, still ignoring them, were munching rations and bickering feebly about who should chop up the chair to start a fire.
They dived into a house like any other house, except that it was full of pale, snake-eyed kids from eight to perhaps thirteen.
"Who're these?" a girl asked their Wabbit.
"Hello, Lana," Norvie Bligh said tentatively. She shriveled him with a glance and turned again to their guide.
"Customers," he said shrilly. "Missing persons. Ten bucks. And something important: War party of Goddams heading west on Livonia Boulevard, the 453-hundred block, at 7:50. Fifty of them with those hatchets of theirs. Advance guard and rear guard."
"Good," she said calmly. "Not our pigeon; looks like a cribhouse raid. Who's the missing person?"
Mundin told her.
As the Wabbit guide had said before her, she said, "Um. Goering Grenadier territory. Well, we have one in the attic. Want us to ask him, mister—for fifty bucks?"
Mundin paid.
The Goering Grenadier in the attic was an eight-year-old scooped up in a raid on the headquarters of the Grenadiers itself. At first he would only swear and spit at them. Then Lana took over the interrogation. Charles left abruptly.
The Grenadier was still crying when Lana joined him downstairs and said, "He talked."
"Where?"
"Fifty bucks more."
Mundin swore and searched his pockets. He had thirty-seven dollars and eighty-five cents. Lana shrugged and accepted twenty-five with good grace. She said:
"Seems there's a Mr. Martinson. He has jobs for the Gee-Gees now and then. He told the Grosse Hermann, that's their boss, that he wanted this Lavin dame picked up and doped. They were supposed to deliver her to some place on Long Island. The kid didn't go along; he doesn't remember just where. Says if he heard it he'd—"
Mundin was tearing upstairs. To the weeping child he barked: "Room 2003, Administration Building, Morristown, Long Island!"
"That's it, mister," said the kid, sniffling. "I told her I'd remember if—"
Mundin went back into the living room and leaned against a wall, brooding. So Norma was being kept on tap for the stockholders' meeting. Why? More conditioning? A forced transfer of her stock? No—not her stock, she didn't have any. Don Lavin's stock. She was the legatee; her brother had the stock——
So they would knock off her brother, and they would have the owner.
As simple as that.
Mundin said to Lana, "Listen. You saw that I have no more dough, not right now. But I need help. This thing is big— bigger than you might think. There are—well, thousands involved." What a fool he would have been to tell the truth and say billions! "It's big and it's complicated. First, can you throw a guard around 37598 Willowdale? I think your friends the Grenadiers are overdue to kill a young man named Don Lavin." He didn't wait for an answer but went right on: "Second, can you get me to the Administration Building in Morristown? I swear you'll be taken care of if this thing breaks right."
Lana measured him with her eyes. Then she said: "Can do. We won't haggle right now."
She barked orders; a silent group of children collected their broken bottles from the mantel over the wood-burning fireplace and slipped out.
Lana said definitely: "The Gee-Gees won't get to your friend. As for Morristown—well, if the Gee-Gees can make a delivery there I guess I can. Frankly, I don't like it. Morristown's tough. But we have an arrangement with the Itty-Bitties there. They're rats; they use guns; but—"
She shrugged helplessly. You gotta go along, her shrug said.
Mundin found himself escorted to the door. "Wait a minute," he said. "I want to hole up somewhere for the night. I'll meet you here in the morning, but what about right now?"
Bligh volunteered, "How about my place, Mr. Mundin? It isn't much, but we've got bars."
Lana nodded. "That'll do. In the morning—what now?"
One of the Wabbits slipped in the door and reported to her. "Gee-Gee scouts," he said. "We got one of them but there's a couple more around. Might be a raid."
"Well fix them," Lana said grimly. "Guess they want their boy back. Come on, you two; I'll have to convoy you out of here."
She led the way. The street was black and silent; before they had taken three steps Lana was invisible. Mundin followed Bligh's confident stride with some qualms.
Lana melted back out of the darkness and said, "Hold it! There's one of the Gee-Gees under that fence. I'll get her——"
Her bottle glimmered. Bligh choked and tackled her from behind as she was about to slice into a pudgy ten-year-old face. Lana floundered on the ground swearing while Bligh addressed his stepdaughter, "Sandy, get the hell out of here. These are friends of mine. I'll see you at home!"
Alexandra, wriggling as he clutched her arm, said philosophically, "Sorry, Norvell. That's the way the little ball bounces." She threw back her head in a barking, strangling yelclass="underline" "Sieg— heil! Sieg——"
Norvell held off Lana with one hand and with the other measured the distance to Alexandra's jaw. He knocked her out, heaved her over his shoulder and panted, "Let's go, Mundin. You tag along, Lana."
In ten minutes Mundin had to relieve the little man of Alexandra's weight. By the time Mundin's knees were buckling, the girl was coming to.
Bligh addressed her quietly and seriously, rubbing his knuckles the while. After that she trailed sulkily along with them.
Mrs. Bligh tried to raise hell when the four of them came in. "And," she screamed at Norvie, "where have you been? Out of here without a word—gone for hours—we could have—"
Norvell said it was none of her business. He said it in such a way that Alexandra gasped with indignation, Lana with admiration. Mundin blushed at the language, but reflected that Belly Rave was doing things for little Mr. Bligh. And the things were not necessarily bad.
"And," Norvell concluded, "if I see any more monkey-business between that hairy ape Shep and you, there is going to be trouble. I'm warning you!"
"Hah!" sneered Virgina Bligh. "I suppose you'll beat him up."
"Don't be silly," Bligh said. "He could break me in two. I'd wait until he went away, and then I'd beat you up."
Lana said sweetly, "I'm going now. What about this little stinker?" She jerked a thumb at the sullen Alexandra.
"I'll take care of her," Bligh promised. "She didn't know any better, that's all."
Lana gauged him. "Okay," she said. "Be back in the morning." She was gone, as Virginia Bligh, regaining her breath, started in for the second round.
Mundin said, "Please. I've got a hard day tomorrow—can I get some sleep?"
Chapter Fifteen
They spent the morning in Old Monmouth, Mundin and Lana and Norvie Bligh, who tagged along in a sort of vague secretarial capacity.
First they stopped by Mundin's bank, where he plugged in his key, punched "Close Out Account," and scooped up the bills that rolled out.
He counted morosely. Two hundred thirty-four dollars, plus eighty-five cents in change. Lana looked hungry, and Mundin recalled that he still owed her twenty-five dollars balance from the night before. He gave it to her reluctantly.
They ate in Hussein's. Over coffee Lana brooded. "I guess the big shots'll ride out to Morristown in armored cars. Too bad we ain't rich. Well, let's get to the jumping-off place."
A taxi took them through the Bay tunnel to the Long Island Railroad terminus in Old Brooklyn. Just for the record, they tried the ticket window.
"Nossir," the man said positively. "One train a day, armored. For officials only. What the hell do you want in Morristown, anyway?"