Chalber nodded numbly. Flick threw his hands wide toward the car and cried, "Baby, come to your Daddy Flick!"

After Flick had oohed and ahed over the lowered Model 99, showing Madison all its beauties, and while mechanics got dust off of it and fuel rods into it, Flick raced over to an office communication booth and got very busy.

Madison, already a car buff, began to warm to the vehicle. It certainly was FLASHY! Even the angels at the four corners had a sort of wild grin on their faces as though they were going to show the world. He thought for a moment of his poor Excalibur, probably on the river bottom still in New York, far away, and then dismissed it. This was a car that performed like a jetliner, with no wings. It wasn't chrome-plated. It was gold-plated! Every button was a precious stone. The seats were like sitting on a cloud. He forgot the Excalibur. This was a PR car to end all PR cars!

Chalber had a lot of papers to stamp and had to show him how but he was very respectful. Flick came away from the communication booth long enough to make sure it was all in order.

"You hold on to this Apparatus junk heap," said Flick to Chalber. "I'll tell you what to do with it. And you stand ready to give me two or three mass-passenger air-coaches if I send for them. I've always wanted some."

He went off leaving a numbed Chalber.

Suddenly Flick rushed out of the communication booth. He was flinging his arms around. He said, "I've got it! Oh, man, my dreams are really coming true. Would you believe it, I've got it!"

Flick was dashing around, checking the Model 99, and Madison couldn't get his attention.

Flick stacked all the contents of the vendor's cart into the hidden cabinets and pushed Madison in like another piece of baggage.

Madison felt a little piqued. After all, it was he who now owned the car. Who was boss here anyway?

"Listen, Flick," said Madison mildly as they took off, "I'm glad you got us a nice car but I have other things to think about and do. I am a working PR, you know. I should be about my business getting some connections."

"Feel her!" cried Flick. "Ain't she beautiful? Not a sound from the outside, not even a whirr from the drives. Oh, man, does she handle just like I knew she would."

The car did ride smoothly, actually like a feather. He was startled to look out the window and see the ground rushing by, quite close, at a speed which must be approaching sound. They had left Commercial City but the verdant countryside was such a blur, Madison could not tell if they were farms or parks or what.

"Flick," he said, "I'm sure it's a joy to drive this thing and she is a beauty, I admit. But I see it is now afternoon and I should not be wasting the day."

"Never you mind," said Flick. "Don't you fret. I can tell you're new here. An Earthman, isn't it? I didn't know we had such a planet but I don't know them all. So you just let me handle this so you don't get lost."

They were over buildings now and were slowing down. The area seemed to consist of a lot of parks and clubs whose signs were even visible in daylight. For a hopeful moment, he thought Flick might be taking him to Homeview, for he could see a gigantic dome ahead with that lettering upon it.

"We're almost there," said Flick. "This is Joy City. That's our destination over there, just beyond that big sign, Dirt Club. Ain't it remarkable?"

"Well, that IS a remarkable advertising sign," said Madison. "A girl in a military hat lying on cannon parabolas. But really, Flick, I think I should go over to Homeview...."

"Not the Dirt Club. That's for Army officers and we ain't Army. No, no. That big bright slab of a building."

Madison tried to see what they were heading for. All he saw was a rectangle of metal that must be eighty stories high and which covered an area of what might be six New York City blocks.

"That's her!" said Flick, hovering to let some traffic clear. "The five top stories of that building was the town-house of General Loop."

"All that?"

"Yeah, he was awful rich. He died a couple years ago and it's too big for anybody to want to live in. The swank residences are all over at Pausch Hills and nobody with that much money wants to live in Joy City: there's nothing but clubs and hotels and amusement parks and the entertainment industry around here. So it's been closed. It must be absolutely crammed with antiques and valuables. Way back before he retired, the owner, General Loop, was in charge of all electronic security for the whole Confederacy. Ever since I heard nobody was living in it now, I've tried and tried to sneak into it, but it's guarded by the fanciest electronic gimmicks anybody ever heard of! An awful challenge: I've laid awake nights trying to figure out how to break in and rob the joint. But back there, I solved it. I'll tell them we're interested in buying it. And they'll show me every security device! Then we'll come back and rob it. Smart, eh?"

Madison blinked. However, before he could protest, Flick received a clearance on a flashing screen on his dash and dived abruptly for the roof. The flat metal expanse was the size of several football fields. He headed for a solitary figure at one end, tiny as a doll in all that vastness. It was waving at them to come in. Flick landed.

An old man in a watchman's uniform was at their door. He was carrying a small box in his hand. "So you're the fellow that wants to buy this place," he said to Flick.

"Yes, sir," said Flick emphatically. "Another dream that's going to come true."

"Why hasn't anybody bought it?" said Madison, not at all happy about what he was getting into. He might be able to use some offices, but this was not even getting a building: it was a planned robbery. He was being steered way off his mark, and the meaningful look of Teenie hovered in memory.

"Oh, they're crazy, of course," the old man said, "but they think the place is haunted."

That was all Madison needed to get along: the robbery of a haunted townhouse. What a headline THAT would make! He tried to think of something that would dampen Flick's enthusiasm.

But the old man was talking, "You can't get into this place without help," he said, climbing in.

"I know," said Flick.

"So I thought I'd better come up in person with the box. They're all waiting for you down below, so if you'll just move this airbus ahead to that small white dot you see there, we'll go in."

Flick, quivering with expectancy, moved the car as stated and the old man pushed at the side of the box.

SWOOP!

Hidden doors whose edges had not been evident activated and they were still sitting in the airbus but it was now sitting in the center of a palatial living room!

Madison glanced up. The door was gone.

Three nicely dressed men were sitting around a desk.

Flick leaped out of the car, looking all around. There were paintings on the walls, vases on stands. He rubbed his hands.

Flick rushed over to the desk. He didn't shake hands. "Let me see the rest of this layout!"

One of the men, gray-headed, said, "We have to be sure this is a serious offer. We came over from the bank just in case somebody really wanted to buy it."

"We got to see the whole place," said Flick.

The three businessmen and the watchman seemed a little cool but then Flick, like a stage magician, flashed Madison's identoplate.

"Pay status UNLIMITED?" gawped the gray-haired man.

Flick gave Madison a broad wink when the bankers weren't looking.

Madison swallowed. This was NOT good PR! The identoplate was now being used as an entrance to case a joint and rob it! He had visions of himself being carted off to jail.

The bankers made haste to show them some of the rest of the townhouse. To see all of it would have taken more than a day. Five floors of this size would have taken far more walking than they had the legs for.