"So 'tis," said Cap Duggan. "Probably some local name."
"Can I see the current charts of that area?"
Cap Duggan got them. "Well, well," he said. "It's on the current chart, too. Look, there's even some mineral indicators. Oh, yeah. I know that place. Lost mine. Never found. I remember about forty years ago somebody that was adjusting boundaries around there. Probably never was a mine, just somebody's idea to attract colonists or something. Now look, way up to the northeast of there, almost in the middle of the state, there's a real mine—near Portland, Connecticut. The Strickland Quarry. Lot of rock hounds go there. There's also quarries at Roxbury, Branchville, East Hampton and Old Mystic right down on the coast. They dig gemstones, garnets and such like. Lot of stuff like that in Connecticut. Just drive up to Westchester and get on the New England Thruway—that's really U.S. 95—and have at it. Connecticut's awful pretty this time of year. I wished I wasn't stuck in this God (bleeped) office! Well, I'll be retired soon and they'll let me out of the cage."
Heller bought a stack of maps down to the tiniest sections. He also bought twenty copies of Cap Duggan's book—autographed! And really left the old man beaming.
When he left, he made one more stop. At a flower shop. He ordered that, every day, Miss Simmons was to get a bunch of beautiful flowers in the hospital.
He got back on the subway and very soon was sitting in High Library again. Bang-Bang came in from a tape-recorder pickup and planting, Heller's sneaky way to avoid attending classes.
"What's new?" said Heller.
"Nothing," said Bang-Bang. "Going to college is great." And he got back to reading his comic books.
But the day left me in a spin. Heller was now up to something else. I could feel it. I was really frustrated. I did not know where he was going to break out next. He was milling around. And I knew he was up to no good.
And then I really got upset. About midnight I went into my bedroom. There was a card lying on my pillow!
Nobody could have gotten into that room!
But there was the card!
The message was addressed to me in a scrawled hand:
SOLTAN GRIS: I WAS TOLD TO REMIND YOU FROM TIME TO TIME THAT SOMEBODY UNKNOWN TO YOU IS AROUND WITH ORDERS TO FINISH YOU OFF IF YOU MESS UP. HISST LEFT THE CHOICE UP TO THAT PERSON. A KNIFE? A GUN? AN AUTO ACCIDENT? MAYBE SOME POISON IN THE FOOD? YOU HAVEN'T GOT A CHOICE. EXCEPT NOT TO MESS UP. SO, GRIS, DON'T MESS UP.
And then a dagger drawn! The only signature!
Who was it? One of the Turkish help? Somebody in Afyon? Somebody on the base? Time after time I was certain I had it.
I didn't get any sleep.
Chapter 2
It was Tuesday at 4:00 P.M. Eastern Standard Time.
Heller had had his usual day—going to college the hard way. He was sitting on the steps of High Library, dressed for a change in a beige lounge suit. He had been reading a secret manual from his Army ROTC class on how you blackmailed agents into blackmailing the general's wife to get the battle plans. The class bell rang somewhere. He put the manual aside, looked up and there was Izzy Epstein.
I was rather amazed to see Izzy appear. After Heller gave him ten thousand dollars to set up some corporation, I had been more or less certain that he would simply take Heller's money and vanish. But here he was. I knew at once that some deeper plot must be boiling in his cunning brain, some way to take Heller for even more money.
Epstein looked very apprehensive. He stood fumbling with the tattered briefcase, two steps below the level Heller was sitting on.
"Hello, Izzy," said Heller. "Have a seat."
"No, no. I should stand when in the presence of my superior."
"You're responsible for me, so what's this superior stuff?" said Heller.
"I am afraid you'll be cross with me. I deserve it."
"Sit down and tell me why," said Heller.
"I didn't get it all done. I knew the job would be too heavy for me."
"Well, I'm sure you got something done," said Heller.
"This and that," said Izzy. "But..." and then he sighed with relief, looking down the steps and to the opposite side. Bang-Bang was trotting up.
"Last charge recovered," said Bang-Bang. "We got no five o'clock class today."
"What's this?" said Izzy.
Heller told him about the recorders Bang-Bang had planted in the courserooms.
Izzy was shocked. "Oh," he said. "That must be very tiring. And dangerous, too! There will be quizzes and lab periods. It is really just a problem in business administration. For a small expenditure, I may be able to unburden your day a bit."
"Go ahead," said Heller.
"I'll do a time-motion efficiency study and let you know," said Izzy. "But here, I am wasting your valuable time right now." He opened his case, got out some papers and handed them to Bang-Bang. "If you will just sign these, it makes you a social-security, withholding-tax employee of the New York Amazing Investment Company. I understand you have to have something to show a parole officer tomorrow morning."
Bang-Bang signed, kneeling on the steps. Izzy made him keep some of the papers and took the rest. "I did get some odds and ends complete, Mr. Jet. I have not been entirely idle. Now, if you're at liberty and would care to indulge me, we should be going. I have to know if you think we are ready to receive your capital."
I knew it! He was only after Heller's remaining money. This decrepit, apologetic little shrimp in his Salvation Army Good Will Store clothes might be a real boon to me!
They followed him down to the subway station and boarded a downtown train. They switched at Times Square.
"Where we going?" Bang-Bang wanted to know.
"We have to have an address," said Izzy. "I took the only one I could get on short notice."
They got off at 34th Street. They started up some steps.
"I do hope you approve," mourned Izzy.
They were in an elevator. It rocketed upwards.
"You see," said Izzy, "it was the only thing available at the bankruptcy court just now. This firm couldn't take the high New York taxes on corporations—didn't know how to get around them, I should say. They had distributed and marketed fancy office fittings and furnishings but the demand dropped. The three-year office lease and all their furnishings were sold by the court and I bought them. I hope you don't think it was exorbitant. I had to pay out two thousand dollars for it. And it's only half a floor."
Heller said, "Half a floor?"
"Yes. There's a clothing design firm and a sporting and athletic goods distributor and a foreign language school and a modeling agency. There are also about forty other firms. They have the other half. They wouldn't sell their leases but I think they will be good neighbors. We can probably do some business with them—fancy new clothes, athletic goods; we are multinational and can use some additional languages and the models that parade around are not in the way. If you don't think there's enough space, we can move."
They were now in a huge, gothic-arched, palatial-looking hallway. Space stretched away in all directions. A vast area.
Heller looked at the rounded cornices, inspected the quality of the colorful marble and sort of caressed an arch.
"It's a bit old, you know," Izzy said. "It was finished in 1931. But I hope you think it has something special about it."
"This stone work is beautiful!" said Heller. "Where are we? What is this place?"
"Oh," said Izzy. "It has its own subway entrance so you didn't get a chance to see it from the outside. I'm sorry. It's the Empire State Building."
"My God!" said Bang-Bang and hastily removed his cap.
"Now, we have everything to the right of the elevator," said Izzy. "So if you will come along..."
They were confronted by sign company men who were just finishing the placing of a series of bronze company nameplates to direct visitors down the vast stretches of marble hallways. Bang-Bang was in the way and I couldn't read them.
"Now, this first office," said Izzy, "is just one of the mask companies." The sign said:
INCREDIBLE OPPORTUNITIES, INC.
President: G. H. Ginsberg Secretary: Rebecca Mossberg
Izzy opened the door. A palatial waiting room with all-chrome furniture and murals of industries was being cleaned industriously by a young man. A further door inside had President on it in chrome.
But Izzy did not take them in. "I didn't get a chance to finish up," he said. "Some cleaning and lettering is still in progress. I am sorry."
He took them to the next office. The door sign said:
FANTASTIC MERGERS, INC.
A Delaware Corporation
President: Isaac Stein
Secretary: Rabbi Schultman
The waiting room was in black onyx. Two young girls with their hair done up in bandannas were cleaning. Izzy shut the door quickly.
One after another, Izzy opened up office suites. The Reliable this and the Astonishing that and each one with different presidents and secretaries and boards. Each one was furnished in superlative, startlingly different furniture.
"Who are all these people?" said Heller. "These presidents and secretaries and things?"
"They're not interlocking!" said Izzy hastily. "They cannot be penetrated by your enemies. They even have different furnishings but that's because this was an office furniture firm and it liked to show off its wares."
"But who are these people?" said Heller.
Izzy sighed. "Some were very hard to contact but we know where they all are now. Some live in Curacao, some in Israel, there's even one who lives in an old folks home in New Jersey. We have all their signatures," he added hastily.
Izzy pushed on. "Now, I regret to say, we come to one that is giving us trouble. Not the corporation. The decoration." The door sign said:
THE BEAUTIFUL TAHITI GILT-EDGED BEACHES
WONDER CORPORATION
Incorporated in Tahiti
President: Simon Levy
Secretary: Jeane le Zippe
When he opened the door, an expanse of bamboo furniture was tumbled about. The walls were white and bare. "It's the mural. I didn't get a chance to arrange anything. I am sorry." He shut the door hastily.
They went along further. "But here is one that IS finished," said Izzy. On the door it said:
MULTINATIONAL
Inside, everything was of solid steel. A map of the world spread around all four walls, all done in facsimiles of different monies.
"There's no President sign on that inside door," said Bang-Bang, and he went to open it.
Revealed to view was an office, very bare, and packing boxes for desks and a mattress in the corner.
Izzy hastily got the door away from Bang-Bang and closed it. "That's my office," he said. "But I do have something nice to show you now."
He led them down a hall and they came to an imposing door at the end. "I was able to get this finished. I knew how important it was."
There was no sign as such on the door. But there was a picture of a modern Boeing airliner.
"You see?" said Izzy. "Kind of hidden. That's a JET! Are you pleased?"
"You mean this is my office?" said Heller.
Izzy opened the door.
A vast suite was before them, done in the most modern design. Side doors opened off it. A huge white desk sat before the windows. And from the big windows one could view the whole panoramic sweep of lower Manhattan. Impressive!
Heller went over and tried the big, white chair. He fiddled with some drawers. He lifted the white phones
and found them live. He went over to some recessed cabinets and checked them. Then he noticed the white shag rug was so thick he was sinking in it to his ankles.
"I know you will want to add your personal touches," said Izzy, "so it's sort of bare."
Heller said, "It's great! A Fleet Admiral couldn't ask for better! What are the side doors?"
Izzy went over, opening one. "They're your own bathroom and shower. A little day room to rest in." He opened another, "A secretary's boudoir." And the last one, "Golf clubs and things. But come along. I won't bore you with all the other corporations. But I do have to show you the communications room."
He led them down a hall and, as they passed doors, Heller noted that Hong Kong, Singapore, London, Switzerland, Liechtenstein and the Bahamas all seemed to be represented.
Izzy opened a door on a mass of telex equipment, telephones and electronic calculators. A young man was sitting at a telex machine typing out a message.
"This," said Izzy, "is all hooked up and ready to roll. We can get in reports of exchange values of currencies anywhere in the world. The bank accounts are ready to function and so are the brokers. By buying a currency in one place and selling it in another where it is higher priced, we can send money whizzing around the world making money. Every hour this equipment sits here idle is costing us a fortune."
"So why is it idle?" said Heller.
"No money to start," said Izzy. "Now downstairs," he glanced at his watch, "a Brinks Armored Truck will draw up in about ten minutes. It will take you home and you can have the guards transport your hundred thousand right back here and tomorrow morning we will be in business." He looked at Heller apologetically. "It won't make any huge fortune at first. But the exchange profits will pay all our monthly expenses and we can get down to serious moneymaking when we have these few essentials completed."
I thought, what a con artist!
Heller and Bang-Bang and Izzy went down and, despite rush hour and parking jams, there was the armored truck. They got in and it roared away.
A few minutes later, Heller took the hundred thousand out of his safe at the Gracious Palms. Izzy put it in a sack and away he and the armored truck went. Again, no receipt.