"Well, listen," Willy's number three lieutenant said, "you might try Johnny The Cat Simese."
"Johnny the, uh—"
"Johnny The Cat Simese. He hangs out at Ada's gym, when he ain't bodyguarding Willy's corpus."
"You don't mean corpus, stupid," one of the other thugs said. "A corpus is a dead man."
"Well, anyhow," said the lieutenant.
"Ada's gym," memorized Heck. "Johnny The Cat Simese." He teleported. He vanished.
"Hey, what the hell?" one of the thugs said.
And another one: "Where'd the little guy go?"
They looked around. Naturally, there was no Heck.
Heck bounced on canvas.
He looked up. A menacing-looking fat man came toward him wearing bathing trunks and stale sweat. Another menacing-looking fat man was on the other side of Heck. This was in a wrestling ring. Outside the ring, an enormous woman some six feet tall and five feet wide and quite shapeless and chewing on a wad of tobacco big as a baseball yelled in a gravelly voice:
"Cut it, cut it! Where'd you come from, sonny-boy?"
"I'm looking for Johnny The Cat Simese," Heck said.
"I'm The Cat," a third wrestler, wearing a bathrobe, said, and came over to the ring. "What's he want, Ada?"
"How should I know?" the fat woman said, spitting a brown stream of tobacco juice.
"It's confidential," Heck said, "and it's urgent." He climbed awkwardly through the ropes and walked along the ring apron, then climbed down. He whispered in Johnny The Cat Simese's well-cauliflowered ear: "I'm looking for Mr. Talese."
"What makes you think I know anybody named Talese? Wait a minute! Talese! You mean Scarface Willy."
"Yes," said Heck.
The next thing that happened happened so fast that Heck hardly knew he was the target of a well-coordinated wrestling attack. Two big hands caught him. A big leg got behind him. He fell down. A big body fell on top of him, squeezing the wind out of his lungs. He looked bleary-eyed into Johnny The Cat's face.
"So!" Johnny The Cat cried exultantly. "So!"
"Wh—what's the matter?" Heck managed.
"As if you didn't know, pal. Get up!"
"That's impossible. You're on top of me."
Johnny The Cat got up. He propelled Heck to his feet and got his right arm in a hammerlock, forcing it up between his shoulder blades. "So," he said, "old Willy was right."
"R—right about what?"
"No rough stuff here, please," Ada said. "Only in the ring."
"This is the Chicago guy," Johnny The Cat declared.
Ada came over and slapped Heck's face. I can teleport, Heck thought in despair, but it wouldn't do any good. The Cat was holding him. "I've never been to Chicago in my life," Heck protested.
"Not much you ain't," said Johnny The Cat.
"Well, I haven't."
"You might as well admit it. You're Little Hymie. Well, ain't you?"
"No," said Heck. "I'm Hector Finch ofHector Finch, We Sell Anything."
"You're Little Hymie and you come here to rub out Scarface Willy. That Willy now, he's smart. He figures the knock-out boy has got to find him first, see? So he sends his troopers—"
"Troopers?"
"Like me, stupid. He sends us out on our usual business, figuring you, Little Hymie, would come looking for him by finding us."
"You're right," Heck said suddenly. "Take me to Scarface Willy for my punishment."
"Take you to him, pal? That's the last thing we'll do. We'll take you, all right. We'll take you outside for a little schlammin, then back you go to Chicago as a warning to the other boys that Scarface Willy is strong enough to buck the whole damn Syndicate if he wants-ta."
"Then, in that case, I am not Little Hymie."
"You just now said you was."
Big Ada said, somewhat exasperated: "Will you guys for cryin' out loud make up yer minds?"
Johnny The Cat said: "Hold on to him, Leech."
One of the two wrestlers in the ring climbed down and took the hammerlock from Johnny The Cat. Heck was still held so that he could not move. "I'm getting dressed," Johnny The Cat explained, and disappeared in the direction of a sign marked, Locker Room.
"Listen," Heck began.
"It ain't none of my business," Ada told him.
A few minutes later, Johnny The Cat came out. He took the hammerlock back from The Leech. "Need any help?" The Leech asked.
"My pleasure," said The Cat.
He pushed Heck ahead of him down a flight of stairs. It led outside to an alley.
"Now, pal," said Johnny The Cat.
He was still clutching Heck's arm, but Heck had no choice. He teleported.
Taking Johnny The Cat Simese with him.
"Hey, who turned out the lights!" Johnny The Cat yelled. "How come it's dark ina middle of the day?"
The darkness was absolute. Heck had teleported out without teleporting in anywhere. "It isn't dark," said Heck, improvising. "It's your eyes. I blinded you."
"You blinded me how?"
"Mental suggestion. Like—like a witch-doctor's curse."
"Say, are you kidding me or something?" But there was alarm in Johnny The Cat's voice.
"Would I kid about a thing like that? Do you want your sight back?"
"I feel just like I'm floating."
"You're dis-oriented because you can't see."
"Dis which?"
"Do you ever want to see again?"
"Yeah!" pleaded Johnny The Cat.
"Then take me to Scarface Willy. Right now."
A pause. Then: "So you can hit him in the head. No thanks. My life wouldn't be worth a plug nickel if I did."
"I am not Little Hymie. I have absolutely nothing to do with Little Hymie. I promise you that."
"That's what Little Hymie would say if he wanted to see the boss. If he wanted to kill the boss."
"So, stay blind."
Silence. Heck let the silence grow. He could feel Johnny The Cat Simese's big hand moving uneasily between his shoulder blades.
"Ain't you gonna say nothing else?" The Cat asked.
"Ain't you gonna ask again, pal?"
No answer.
"Ain't you gonna say I can see again if I take you to Willy? Ain't you?"
Finally Heck said: "You don't even have to take me. Just tell me where it is."
"I—I can't."
"Just think where it is!"
"I won't—"
Heck smiled suddenly in the darkness. "Try not to think about it," he said. "I've put the thought in your mind. You have to think about it now, don't you? You couldn't stop thinking about it if you wanted to. Where is Scarface Willy? You know, don't you, Johnny The Cat? Don't try and tell me you don't know. Where is he? Think about it! Where is Scarface Willy?"
After the long silence, Heck's sudden deluge of words brought a groan from the frightened Johnny The Cat. But abruptly the groan became a shout of anger. "I don't have to listen to you," Johnny said. "All right. I'm blind. All right. But I still got you. I can still give you that schlammin, Little Hymie."
Heck felt his hand forced up cruelly between his shoulder blades. He was spun around. Something cracked. He wondered if his hand were broken. He had only seconds now, he knew. Seconds before Johnny The Cat Simese began to administer the schlammin, gangdomese for a beating he'd bear the traces of for the rest of his life. He had tried to find Patty—and he'd lost. Patty was still in Scarface Willy's hands. And he, Heck, was all washed up. A little guy, he thought in a flood of self-pity, who was one of the best goldarn salesmen and perfectly happy being a salesman, but who was in way over his depth now.
He heard Johnny The Cat's harsh anticipatory breathing.
He knew Johnny The Cat was about to strike him with those huge, powerful hands.
He knew that in a matter of minutes he would be a beaten pulp....
"Try not to think of where Willy is!" he cried—and clutched Johnny The Cat Simese—and hoped—and teleported!
It was a large, comfortable looking room. It was not empty. It was far from empty.
"Patty!" Heck cried.
Because Patty was there.
She seemed very frightened. She was standing next to Scarface Willy and Heck got the impression she wasn't frightened because of him. She was frightened for him. Or maybe frightened with him.
Because Scarface Willy didn't look so good, either.
There were two other men in the room. One was somewhat below medium size—about Heck's own height. This must be Little Hymie, Heck thought. Little Hymie held a gun. The bigger man with him was sneering. It was Hymie who did the talking.
"O.K., Willy," he said, "then you and your moll are both going to get it."
"I'm not his moll!" wailed Patty.
Johnny The Cat hulked in bewilderment behind Heck. There was very little time left, Heck knew. Johnny The Cat was too bewildered to do anything....
Patty's eyes went big when Heck shouted her name a second time. Apparently the first time he hadn't materialized sufficiently for them to hear him. Willy stared at him in disbelief. The big man with Little Hymie began to turn around. He was every bit as big as Johnny The Cat Simese.
And the killer's small hand tightened on his gun—
Heck jumped, launching himself at Little Hymie. The gun went off, furrowing Heck's cheek. The slug plowed harmlessly into the ceiling. Heck and Little Hymie scrambled over and over on the floor. Heck got the gun from Little Hymie, then Little Hymie hit him and the gun went clattering across the floor.
Patty, Willy, Johnny The Cat and the other big man all lunged for it. Little Hymie hit Heck again, and Heck counter punched. Little Hymie bleated. Heck hit him again. Little Hymie subsided.
Heck looked up in triumph. His eyes went wide.
The other big man, Hymie's companion, had the gun. He was far bigger and far more capable than Hymie. It still looked more like curtains. It looked more like curtains than ever before. Hymie stood up groggily. "Over there with the rest of them," ordered Little Hymie.
The man with the gun waved it. Heck began to move.
"It's Muscles Freddy," Johnny The Cat said in awe.
"They sent Muscles Freddy here to do the job on you, Boss. I always knew you were big time."
Muscles Freddy waved the gun again. "Who gets it first?" he asked.
Little Hymie glanced up. Little Hymie's left eye was swelling rapidly. He shook a fist at Heck. "Give it to the little guy," he said. "The wise guy."
Heck gulped. He watched the big hand begin to squeeze, drawing the trigger back. The muzzle of the automatic pointed at his belly and seemed big enough to swallow him.
He teleported.
Not far—just across the room. Right behind Muscles Freddy.
"Hey, where'd he go!" Freddy cried.
"Behind you!" warned Hymie.
Freddy whirled.
Heck teleported again.
"Hey!" hollered Freddy. "He goes on and off like a neon sign."
Heck materialized alongside him, grappling for the gun. But Freddy drew it back and fired. Heck had beaten him to it by a split second. Heck had teleported.
"Damn neon sign!" repeated Freddy.
Heck re-materialized. Freddy gaped. Heck flashed off. Then on. On and off. Off and on. Every time he flashed on again he struck at the bewildered Muscles Freddy's gun-hand. Finally, as was inevitable, Freddy dropped the gun. Heck and Little Hymie dove for it, their heads striking together. Little Hymie drew back and slammed the edge of his palm across Heck's Adam's apple. Heck gagged, but held the gun in his hand and climbed to his feet. He hit Hymie in the jaw with the barrel of the gun on the way up, and Hymie fell down. Muscles Freddy stood there, looking at the gun. He was completely stunned.
"This is the first time in my life I ever called the police," said Scarface Willy, and went to the phone. He got halfway through dialing, and stopped. "I can't," he said.
"Why, Boss?" asked Johnny The Cat.
"The hideout."
"But if Muscles Freddy and Hymie know," Heck pointed out, "you'll have to change it anyway."
"Hadn't thunk of that," said Willy, and dialed again. While they waited for the police he told Heck: "I owe you a favor, see? On account of you saved my life. So, I tell you what. I'm letting you and the fiancée go. And I won't horn in on your business."
"Oh, Heck, you're wonderful!" cried Patty.
But Heck looked at Scarface Willy and shook his head; and while Patty looked shocked, he said: "No, pal. That won't do at all. You never were man enough to horn in on my business, you understand?"
Scarface Willy's face went mean and for a moment Heck thought the racketeer was going to try to take the gun from him. Heck spoke slowly and carefully, all the while watching Hymie and Freddy with the gun. The police came and took them away. Heck went on talking. He was going to be a salesman in this wild adventure after all. He had to sell Scarface Willy the biggest idea of all. He made his plea eloquently, richly, cleverly, like those very best of salesmen who can speak far better than any lawyer who ever pleaded a case. When he finished, Scarface Willy was almost in tears.
"All right," Willy said at last. "You saved my life after I kidnapped your girl. I know I'm a louse. I know it. I owe you a favor, pal. You're right. You name it."
"I want you to de-burgle," Heck said in triumph.
"Do which?"
"De-burgle. First our warehouse. Return everything we have to its original owner. You have the outfit that can do it, if we give you temporary use of teleportation. Then all our customers. You'll have to burgle the goods from them and de-burgle them to their original owners. Then you'll have to put up money to cover payment of our staff. We're liquidating. We'll pay our profits back to our customers, of course."
"How much will it cost me?" Willy wanted to know.
"Several score thousand dollars, I'm afraid."
Willy's face went white, but Heck had done too good a selling job. Patty beamed at him. He beamed at Patty. It would all be done, he knew.
There remained one detail. No, two. Laara. And the little fellow with the slightly over-sized head. Heck didn't think he'd have any trouble, though. He was reasserting himself as a salesman. He felt the happiness welling within him. Laara and the little guy would go home, where they belonged. That would be a cinch. He knew it would be. His troubles were over.
"You'll begin at once?" he asked Scarface Willy.
"Yes," Willy said. There were still tears in his eyes. "It's the least I can do."
Heck took Patty's hand.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To get the details straightened out. To get married. To go on a honeymoon. To see Mr. Weatherby about getting my old job back—with a considerable raise in salary."
Patty's eyes turned sultry. "Go back toget married, darling, and kind of fill in."
"Well, we get married and go on a real honeymoon—"
She stood very close to him. "And on the honeymoon, we—"
He reddened, "Well, we—"
Patty moved even closer. He suddenly had difficulty with his breathing.
Patty murmured, "We do this—and this—and this—only more so—"
"Patty—please—"
"Oh, Heck, you're the most wonderful husband a girl could ever have—that is, you will be. You're so wonderful."
Heck smiled. As a salesman, he thought. Only as a salesman.
But he didn't say it.
THE END