Beautiful? In space coveralls too big and a baseball cap too big? What was Izzy up to now? Some con, I wagered. I waited with interest to see what it was.
Krak said, "But this is a beautiful office, Izzy."
"No, no," he said, "not beautiful enough for you. You deserve a gorgeous apartment."
She seemed to think about it. Then she said, "Well, I have a credit card. Maybe I could rent one with that."
My hair went straight up!
Then Izzy said something that really warmed my heart. I really realized what a sterling true-blue character he was after all. "No, no, no! I am responsible for Mr. Jet. If any apartments are to be gotten, I will get them. Please promise me you won't do that. You wouldn't find anything beautiful enough for you."
I couldn't quite figure it out. Was he angling for a commission or what?
On Heller's viewer, I had just been seeing elevators and halls. But here was a view of the office. He had just walked in. He took a look at Izzy. "What's wrong?"
Izzy was crying again on both viewers. He was pointing helplessly at Krak.
Heller said to her, "Dear, would you please step into the 'thinking room' and clean it up. Close the door so I can get to the bottom of this before he jumps off something again and beats me to it."
When Krak had closed the door, Heller said, "What's wrong, Izzy?"
Izzy was mopping at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "The bartender thinks she must be a movie star or is about to be. The model agency down the hall has been pestering me to get her to run for Miss America so they can have a contract to use her in the Coca-Cola ads. Bang-Bang says she is the most beautiful woman on the planet. And because I am a failure, I am forcing her to live here without any home at all."
"Well," said Heller, "buy a condo or something."
Izzy went into a fresh spasm of wailing. Then he said, "That's the trouble. We're barely making expenses on arbitrage. IRS is boring in and we can't pay them. And when I came in a little while ago and saw her again, I realized I was condemning her to squalor and poverty. It drove the ruin home so hard I couldn't stand it!"
Heller said, "Well, all right. I'll go out and make some money."
Izzy amazed me. Here he had led it all up to some perfect con. But he leaped up in alarm, waving his arms. "No, no, no! Don't try to persuade somebody to shoot at you again so you can collect the fee. That's too dangerous!"
Heller laughed. He said, "I'll think of something else."
"You're taking over my job and I deserve it. But please, please promise me you won't do anything foolish!"
"I can only promise to try not to," said Heller.
Krak came out of the other room, putting a pillow in its case. Izzy instantly leaped for the door and fled.
"What was that all about?" said Krak.
"He thinks you're too beautiful," said Heller. "But so do I. Especially with the very best brand of New York soot on the end of your nose."
She threw the pillow at him. He caught it and, on the pretext of giving it back, kissed her. Both my viewers went FLASH!
But Heller did not hold her long. He let go of her and wandered over to the bar. She stood staring after him. He picked up a newspaper somebody must have been reading and started going through it.
"Money," he was muttering to himself. "Money, money, money. This planet doesn't run on an axis. It runs on money!" He passed the comic page too fast to let me see what was happening to Bugs Bunny these days.
He stopped suddenly at an ad. It said:
$ATLANTIC CITY$
$WINTER CASINO $PECTACULAR$
5 Casino$ 5
EXTRAVAGANZA!
New Year's Bills Getting You Down?
RECOVER WITH ROULETTE
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
He looked up. He said to Krak, "You're working too hard. We're going to Atlantic City."
She stopped putting cleaning things away and looked at him with a shocked expression on her face. "WHAT? And leave your own work undone on this planet?"
"No, no," he said. "Not Atalanta, Manco. Atlantic City, New Jersey. And wash your face. This has got to be a clean hit."
"Where is this place?" said Krak, coming over to him.
He showed her the ad. He hadn't read it all. Toward the bottom it said:
FREE FLOOR SHOW
The Clowns
The Apes
Dingle-Poop Rock Band
Mamie Boomp, Continental Singer
"Oh," said Krak, "Iknow her. And Iwant to see her, top, to get her opinion on spring styles."
A voice sounded behind them. "Anybody home?" It was Bang-Bang. He was carrying a sack. "I'm sorry, Joy, but those birds in that fancy shop never heard of nothing called 'hot jolt.' So I got the Bavarian Mocha Mint and the champagne. But Ithink that Scotch would go better in it. Not even the cat will touch champagne: it gets in his nose."
"Where'd you park the cab?" said Heller. "We're going to Atlantic City." He held up the ad.
Bang-Bang looked at it. His finger came down to the bottom of the page. He was pointing out the final line to Heller. It said:
Scalpello Casino Corp. of New Jersey
Bang-Bang said, "That's the Atlantic City Mafia. Small time, maybe, but vicious. If you're going to knock the place over, I ought to go with you as a back-up gun. But that (bleeped) parole officer is narrow-minded: He won't let me set foot out of New York. So you be awful careful, Jet-you hear me speaking?"
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?