The cleaning woman had finished mopping up the blood. Vantagio turned the air conditioner on to “vent,” probably to clear out the drifting cordite smoke. He seated Heller in a chair and then sat back down at his ornate desk.

“Kid,” said Vantagio, “you saved my life! I never before seen such terrific shooting!” He regarded Heller for a bit. “How did you come to get here, anyway?”

Heller told him he had been looking for a place to live and then quoted his conversation with the taxi driver in which he had asked for a house.

Vantagio laughed. “Oh, kid, you are a greenhorn. Strictly from the backwoods. Listen, kid. In the vernacular of our fair city, the word ‘house’ means a brothel, a bordello, a bagnio, a crib, a sporting house, a cathouse, a whorehouse or, in short, a house of prostitution. And here you are. This is the pleasure palace of the United Nations, the top ‘house’ in all Manhattan!”

He started to laugh again and then he sobered. “But I can thank La Santissima Vergine that you arrived. I was sure my number was up!”

He sat back, looking at Heller, and thought for a moment. “You’re kind of handy to have around. Kid, could I offer you a job? Something respectable like a bouncer?”

“No,” said Heller. “Thank you. I’ve got to get a diploma. People don’t listen to you unless you have a diploma.”

“Oh, so true! I’m a great believer in education! I have my master’s degree in political science from Empire University,” he said proudly, “and here I am at the top of my profession, head of the UN whorehouse!”

At that moment there was a commotion at the door and two very disheveled men rushed in. Although their clothes were expensive looking, they were very crumpled.

“Where you been?” Vantagio shouted at them.

“We got here as fast as we could,” said one. “At dawn that God (bleeped) Inspector Grafferty busted into our apartment and arrested us for vagrancy and littering. It took until just now for the shyster to bail us out!”

“It was a setup,” said Vantagio. “Police Inspector Bulldog Grafferty,” and he spat sideways on the carpet.

“He was right up the street waiting! He got you two gunsels out of the way so the Faustino mob could come in here and put the pressure on. If I’d refused and they’d have killed me, Grafferty was right on hand to prove they wasted me in self-defense. If this kid hadn’t crashed the party, I’d be dead!” And he told them exactly what had happened and what Heller had done.

“Jesus!” said the two men in unison, looking at Heller.

“Now go down to the dry-cleaning room and get yourselves pressed up and get on duty. We can’t have you looking like a couple of bums! This is a high-class joint!”

“Yes, Mr. Meretrici,” they both said and rushed out.

“This really is a high-class joint,” Vantagio repeated to Heller. “The UN crowd is funny. If they thought we pushed drugs, they’d be sure we were trying to bleed information out of them. No, sir. We stay with tradition. We serve bootleg booze. And booze and drugs don’t mix, kid.”

“Lethal,” said Heller, doubtless remembering his book.

“Eh? Oh, right. You sure said it, kid. No gang wars in booze at all these days. And there’s just as much money to be made in bootleg booze as there ever was in Prohibition. Did you know Federal taxes was ten bucks a fifth now? And it’s more respectable. More traditional.

“Now, there are those that will tell you you can’t have prostitution without having drugs. But that’s baloney. The whores go silly. They get all dried up. They don’t last two years. And they’re an expensive investment! We have to train them, send them to Towers Modeling School and hygiene clinics as doctors’ assistants and postgraduate them to an ex-Hong Kong whore. That’s expensive. You can’t amortize it fast enough. Internal Revenue Service won’t let you write off the investment that quick. So, no drugs, kid.”

“No drugs,” said Heller, probably thinking of Mary Schmeck.

“Right,” said Vantagio. “The UN clientele would simply evaporate. And we’d have to pay off the DEA. We’d go bankrupt!”

“Well,” said Heller. “I’m sorry I made a mistake. I’ll be going now.”

“No, no!” said Vantagio in alarm. “You saved my life. And even Clint Eastwood couldn’t have beaten that gun play! You’re handy to have around! Listen, business is slack — the UN isn’t in session and it’s summer and nobody’s in town. You came for a room. There’s two hundred rooms and suites in this building! I got a little room — it was once a maid’s room — up on the second floor you can have.”

“Well,” said Heller, “if you’ll let me pay for it.”

“Pay? Well, how about you just sitting around the lobby now and then, two or three times a week maybe. For just an hour or two. I’ll see you get some decent clothes.”

I thought, no, no, Heller. He knows the Faustino mob saw you! He’s just going to use you to scare them off!

He must have seen Heller was reluctant. “Look, kid. You’re going to college. If you go to Empire, I can give you some steers and pointers. We don’t have a restaurant but we have a kitchen that serves great food to rooms and you can get sandwiches. We can’t serve you any booze because it’s obvious you’re a minor and it would be illegal. But you could have all the soft drinks you wanted. Listen. We’ll even keep you from being embarrassed by the UN people thinking you’re part of the help. We’ll cook up some story about you being the son of a dictator or something incognito and living here to go to college.”

It wasn’t the danger I was worried about. I couldn’t see how I could sneak Raht in there to rifle his baggage! Whorehouses go crazy when you try to rifle baggage. They think you’re trying to roll the customers and get them in trouble with the police! And those gunsels had looked formidable! It would be like trying to reach Heller in jail!

I knew what was wrong with Vantagio. He was still in shock and overreacting with gratitude. Heller wasn’t all that prepossessing!

“Now, this place is full of good-looking women,” said Vantagio, “and a good-looking kid with muscles like yours will have them swarming at you. But you can always call one of the madames if they bother you. What say, kid? Is it a deal?”

“Do you have boys here?” said Heller.

“Cripes no!” exploded Vantagio. “That was just that dumb hood’s idea. He’s… was… gay. So how about it, kid?”

Heller barely started to nod when Vantagio was out of his seat and racing to the door. He peeked into the lobby. The stiff team and bodies were gone. The cleaning lady was mopping up the floor.

Vantagio said to the clerk, “Hit the buzzers.” And shortly numerous staff began to drift in and then the elevators started going and numerous beautiful women in various stages of dishabille began to drift into the lobby. They were of all colors from all parts of the world, though white predominated. The lobby got pretty full of half-bare legs and half-exposed breasts.

Vantagio grabbed off Heller’s cap and told him to stand up on a marble ledge. The sea of upturned lovely faces looked like the color plates of the porno and movie magazines had all gone into a mad shuffle. A montage of alluring beauties!

In a very commanding voice, Vantagio said, pointing at Heller, “This kid just saved my life. I want you to treat him decent.”

A whoosh of pent-up breath sounded in the room and a concerted “Ooooo!” I couldn’t understand it. What could they see in Heller? Then I realized it was off-season for them. Man-starved.

“He’s going to live here,” said Vantagio.

If the “Ooooo” was loud before, it doubled now, interspersed with some pants!

Oh, my Gods, I thought. If the Countess Krak could only see this!

“Now, listen,” said Vantagio, raising his voice to be heard, “he’s underage as you can plainly see. He’s jail bait! And if he complains about anybody bothering him, out that (bleepch) goes!”