Heller said, "The lady and I will be all right."
Bang-Bang's eyes shot wide. "The lady! You takin' Joy down there? Jesus-beggin' your pardon, miss-but she's too beautiful to let them punks even glance at her! They don't deserve it!"
"She'll be all right," said Heller.
"Oh, Jet," said Bang-Bang, "that's a (bleeped) – begging your pardon, miss-dangerous place. Those (bleepards) – begging your pardon, miss-don't care who the hell they shoot." He apparently saw Jet wasn't impressed. He gave up. Then he rallied. "Well, at least I won't let her be driven two hundred and fifty miles in that (bleeped) – begging your pardon, miss-cab. It doesn't ride near good enough. I'll phone the 34th Street East Heliport for reservations and run you across town. They got a new fast chopper run to Atlantic City that's safe and comfortable. And I'll sweep out the cab."
He grabbed a phone.
Heller was rummaging around, picking up this and that.
The Countess Krak raced into the secretary's boudoir and shut the door; going to get dressed, I guessed, and pack a bag.
I was really smiling. The Atlantic City Mafia. I had heard all about them. They specialized in hijacking and beating up high winners.
My euphoria increased. There wasn't any way I could lose. If Heller lost money, it would be just that much less that they would have to meet their bills. If he won, the Atlantic City Mafia would attack him and maybe he and Krak would both wind up in the hospital.
What a beautiful day! It might be cold winter for a lot of people. It seemed like the balmiest possible weather to me. It was a downright rosy world!
Despite the wintry day, I went out and took a turn around the yard. I felt too full of springs to sit too long.
Torgut was on duty. He was wearing a new sheepskin coat and boots and cap. He was carrying a club. He looked much better fed. He bowed ceremoniously. That was good.
I caught a glimpse of some of the staff. Their faces were white with fright. How very satisfactory!
The BMW was gone and there was no trace of the little boys. How nice and quiet!
I went back in and cleaned and oiled some of my guns to while away the time. And, as I worked, a message came through the slot. It said:
Be advised I am shifting the transmitters to Atlantic City area.
Raht
That made me blink. I myself had forgotten that Heller and Krak were going to go beyond the two-hundred-mile activator-receiver range. How had he found out?
Raht, to make up for the lack of his partner Terb, must have that office bugged. He might even have bugs of his own on Heller and Krak. I felt very heartened. I had even scared Raht into doing his job for a change. My, things certainly were looking up!
Heller and Krak didn't stand a chance! I could order them shot at any time. All I needed was the word from Lombar that Heller's communication terminal on Voltar had been nullified. Now all I had to do was make sure they were enough slowed down so that they accomplished nothing that would upset Lombar's plans! And I certainly had the money to do that!
Tolerantly, as one looks at cripples who are sure to lose any race, I turned my attention back to the screens.
"But why do they have those silly blades on top?" Krak wanted to know.
They were riding in a multipassenger helicopter.
"To keep the pilot's head cool," said Heller.
"Oh, Jettero, you're fooling me."
"Why, I wouldn't do that. They have very hotheaded pilots."
"Well, they certainly don't have proper antigravity airbuses. The least you could do to straighten them out is teach them how to make hot jolt."
"I'll put it right at the top of my list," said Heller. "Look, there's Atlantic City."
They both looked out the window at a cold and dismal winter scene. The gray Atlantic was pushing sullen swells up against the beach. The five amusement piers suffered occasional windblown spumes of chilly spray. The high-rise buildings and hotels stood battered along the mostly shuttered Boardwalk.
Heller said, "Now, listen. Don't call me by the name Wister. Call me Johnny. We'll pretend you're just some dizzy dame that I picked up."
The Countess bristled. "Well, I like that! Why shouldn't I call you 'Wister'?"
"It's sort of too well known."
"Aha. I knew you'd gotten famous here."
"Too condemned famous," said Heller. "But we won't go into that now. You just be a dizzy dame."
"I smell chicanery," said Krak.
"You do. We're broke."
Krak shook her head. "I can buy whatever we need. I have a credit card."
"You can't buy what we have to have for IRS taxes. So please just be a dizzy dame."
She said, "Am I in such a spin I don't even know who the enemy is?"
"The Atlantic City Mafia runs the gambling here. They wouldn't share your enthusiasm for me. They specialize in rip-offs and we are going to rip them off."
"Not something criminal," said Krak.
"No. All legal. We just happen to have what we will call a 'technical advantage.' Now, I may call on you to place some bets and I may call on you to take care of the money won in case something happens. So, is your collar radio working?"
She touched something inside her coat and said, "Testing."
The sound seemed to come out of his collar.
He touched his own collar and said, "Testing."
The sound seemed to come out of her collar.
They were using Spurk button radios! Well, it wouldn't do them any good.
They were standing up to get out of the plane and I could see what they were wearing, a necessary datum for me if they separated.
I blinked. She was garbed in a white fur hat, white boots, purse and gloves. Her trousers, probably part of a suit, were wide-bottomed and metallic blue. But it was the fur jacket she had on that set it off. Gray chinchilla! Even though it was only waist length, it must have cost a fortune! Others might think it a spectacular outfit. I found it only striking: at my pocketbook!
He had on a gray flannel lounge suit and wore a gray hat with a wide brim. He was getting into a trench coat of black leather.
Amongst the rest of that crowd, that pair stood out like beacons! All the better! The Atlantic City Mafia would have no trouble at all tailing them to recover any loot.
They were landing now and the festive crowd of high-rollers climbed into a ready bus.
Atlantic City thought it would become very prosperous when, way back in 1976 Earth time, New Jersey got the right to have gambling casinos. And, although some new hotels were built in this decrepit old carnival town, its great expectations did not quite match up to the public relations ballyhoo. A drug runner had told me all about it when I was on Earth before. The Mafia mob had gradually taken over the key casinos and, due to their objections to winners, hopes of rivalling Las Vegas had grown dim.
They must be pretty desperate to be running an extravaganza in the middle of a New Jersey winter. Those icy winds off the Atlantic Ocean practically blew people off the Boardwalk. There's nothing sadder-looking than a carnival town off season.
Heller and Krak were no sooner out of the bus than Krak spotted the name "Mamie Boomp." It was in very small letters at the bottom of the biggest marquee on the biggest building which held the biggest casino.
They fought the wind and got inside. They checked their hats and coats in a cloakroom and walked up to a mezzanine that overlooked the casino floor. There were some tables and chairs along the rail. Heller chose one and was about to seat the Countess when she said, "No, no. You go on and do whatever you are going to do. I'm going to try for backstage and see if I can find Mamie."