"Very good, sir."
I phoned Bellevue General. "Do you have a Fiaccola there to be shot?"
"Shooting cases are sent to Emergency, sir."
"No, no. This is an insurance case. Sent by Dr. Fin-kelbaum. Please look for him. It's a life and death matter."
"It is always a life and death matter, sir."
"This is different. It's mostly a death matter. Find that man!"
I waited. I could hear my call being transferred around. Finally, "This is the High Security Detention Ward, sir. Yes, we have a Torpedo Fiaccola."
"Good Heavens," I said. "Has he gone crazy or something?"
"No, sir. That would be the Psychiatric Detention Ward. The High Security Detention Ward is where we put patients who can't pay their bills."
So that was it! I had neglected to call by and pay their bill, so they had grabbed the man when he showed up!"He'll be out of there in a flash," I said.
I hurriedly got dressed. I grabbed up all my money including the additional thousand I had made the night before. I stuffed some other things I might find handy into my pockets. I picked up Krak's viewer and rushed out. I got to Seventh Avenue and grabbed a cab.
Bellevue is over by the East River: First Avenue and about 30th Street. Cross-town traffic was slow, slow, slow.
I watched the viewer. Krak was also riding in a cab-the old cab-and Bang-Bang was driving. She had changed her clothes to a gray suit, judging by what I could see of her knees. She had a lot of bags and luggage at her feet. One of them was a duffel bag with Bang-Bang Rimbombo on it. They were all packed!
Then I realized from the street signs she was watching that they were going south in Manhattan. I had thought they were heading direct for Hairytown which is north.
"Chinatown seems like a funny place for a parole office," Countess Krak called through the open partition. "You're not Chinese, Bang-Bang."
"It's just that the New York State offices are close to Chinatown."
"Is the parole officer Chinese? I don't speak that language, you know."
"He's pure ape," said Bang-Bang, over his shoulder. "He mangles prisoners and English irregardless. This is all a waste of time, Miss Joy. He wouldn't give a con a break for a million bucks. You ask him for a relaxation of my parole conditions and he's likely to order me back to the pen. You're taking my life in your hands just to talk to him!"
"You let me be the judge of that," said Krak. "STOP!"
Bang-Bang bounced off a truck and then bounced off a curb. A man was selling flowers on the walk. Krak handed him a five-dollar bill and grabbed a bunch of carnations. They knocked down a street works sign and sped on south.
"Miss Joy, I don't think you got the right idea. Not only would that ape throw them flowers in your face, he'd probably try to charge me with bribery and corruption."
My own hacker was happily running up his meter in the cross-town traffic snarl. "Good thing you got a portable TV, mister," he said over his shoulder. "This is going to take a while. But what program is that? Some old morning rerun of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall? Well, you'll have time to finish it at this rate."
Rage hit me. To infer that Bang-Bang sounded like Bogart! And she sounded more like Susan Hayward in her most villainous roles! Oh, well, she'd soon be dead.
"Sounds like a chase scene," said my hacker. "They sure used to wreck them cars good."
And at the moment, I had to agree with him. Bang-Bang was opening traffic lanes with fenders as they passed through Chinatown. What that old cab could take was even up to Bang-Bang's driving.
With a screech of brakes they drew up before the New York State offices. "If he says he's going to send me back to the pen," said Bang-Bang, "you whistle out that window so I can get a head start."
"Be calm," said Krak. "You wait in the car."
"With motor running for a fast getaway," said Bang-Bang. "One more time, Miss Joy. Please don't do it."
"I know that picture," said my hacker. "It's the one where Bacall dies in the end."
"That's right," I said.
The Countess Krak stepped down to the street. She took the flowers in the crook of her arm. On the sidewalk, she opened her purse and popped something in her mouth. I blinked. Was she on drugs?
She stood there for a bit, idly looking down the length of a park. What a perfect target she was making. Right out in the open, not even moving. I groaned at the lost opportunity. A sniper in a passing car and one dead Countess Krak. I must get Fiaccola sprung and going!
Then she took something out of her purse, a little tiny spray vial, and sprayed it on the flowers. This was idiocy. Putting perfume on carnations. They don't have hardly any perfume at all. They don't even make me sneeze. Boy, would she be detected quick!
She looked at the big directory board. It said:
OSSINING CORRECTIONAL FACILITY Liaison
She went to the designated floor. She went down a hall and stopped before a door that said:
Parole Officer
She straightened her jacket, took the flowers in her hand and with an airy saunter walked in.
An absolute beast sat at the desk, probably a former prison screw, pensioned off from Sing Sing and given a nice job where he could ruin everybody. He looked up. He glared.
"You have a parolee," said the Countess Krak, "named Bang-Bang Rimbombo."
"That son of a (bleepch)," said the parole officer. "Don't tell me you're bringing the good news that the (bleepard) is dead. That would make my day."
"I am his aunt," said the Countess Krak in a lilting voice. "Day by day I see my poor nephew droop. Alas, he has become a withering beast chained in the dens of vice of New York, longing with tears and gusty sighs for the open fields and wildflowers of his native habitat. Smell the flowers he misses so."
She pushed the carnations straight into the parole officer's face! He opened his mouth to roar. Apparently it made him inhale. He sat back down suddenly.
She continued. "Don't you think it would be a good idea to lift all restrictions on his movements?"
"Yes," said the parole officer.
"And make it unnecessary for him ever to have to report in again?"
"Yes," said the parole officer.
"And give him a clean bill of health for his entire parole time?"
"Yes."
"And you have the proper forms to do this with?"
"Yes."
"And you think it is a wonderful idea to pick up that pen and fill out all the forms?"
"Yes."
"And you just agreed to start doing it this minute?"
"Yes," said the parole officer. He grabbed pads of forms and busily began to write.
When he finished, the Countess Krak said, "And now you think you should give me signed copies, do you not?"
"Yes," he said.
She reached over and took the "Copy to Parolee" sheets.
"You enjoyed this conversation, didn't you?" said the Countess Krak.
"Yes."
"And you did all this at your own suggestion?"
"Yes."
"Good day," said the Countess Krak and walked away.
She threw the flowers in a litter can on the street and got into the cab. She handed Bang-Bang the copies.
He looked at them bug-eyed. He leafed through them hurriedly again. "Jesus!" he said.
"Get going, Bang-Bang," said the Countess Krak. "We have another stop to make."
Bang-Bang edged over into Lafayette Street, heading north. All of a sudden he exploded. "I'M FREE!"
He was suddenly driving at high acceleration. "Jesus Christ, Miss Joy, I'll admit that you're probably the most beautiful woman in America, but who the hell would ever guess that (bleeped) ape would fall for a DAME!"
She was not paying much attention. She was looking in her purse. She had the torn wrapper of the Eyes and Ears of Voltar package. It said Perfume to make a person say yes to anything. Pre-antidote necessary.