he able to feel the wire’s hand dip into his pocket, reaching for his wallet.

Baron said: “Nix.”

He half-whispered the word so that nobody but the wire would hear it. But the wire got the message. Instantly the hand was withdrawn and the wallet remained where it was.

Baron smiled to himself and moved on. Again the prat man jostled him, this time mumbling “sorry” under his breath. Baron’s smile widened. The thief was indicating he was sorry he had made Baron for a mark.

It was always a source of pleasure to him the way a thief could communicate to another thief without a mark ever catching on. He and Farmer and the others in his outfit could talk over the head of a mark forever. And just the one word, “nix,” had put the cannon mob wise to who he was.

Baron glanced at his watch. It was 6:30 now and he was hungry. He walked to the curb and caught a cab.

“Take me to the best steakhouse in town,” he told the driver.

At the restaurant he had a double shot of Jack Daniels on the rocks and a rare sirloin an inch and a half thick. He finished off with a pony of drambuie, inhaling the rich vapor of the cordial and enjoying the warm feeling as it trailed down his throat to his stomach. He paid the check and tipped the waiter generously.

He bought a paper at a corner newsstand and glanced at the entertainment page. There were only a few nightclubs in Tulsa and none of them seemed particularly appealing. How would he spend the evening?

A woman would be pleasant. He considered taking the bellhop up on his offer but gave up the idea. Later, perhaps, but not tonight.

Instead he caught a cab back to his hotel and wandered into the bar. He’d just have a few drinks and then catch a full night’s sleep. If there was a woman to be picked up he would pick her up, and if there wasn’t he wouldn’t be too disappointed.

At the bar he took the furthest stool from the door and ordered a shot of Jack Daniels with a water chaser. He tossed off the shot and was lifting the glass of water to his lips when he spotted the blonde.

He saw her before she saw him. She was tall, just a few inches shorter than he was. And her hair was long and golden. The plain black cocktail dress emphasized her high, full breasts and her long, tapered legs.

Her face was good, too, except for a slightly hard look about it. Looks, he decided. Plenty of looks, but not a hell of a lot of class.

Automatically he wondered what angle she was working. She didn’t come on like a hustler, but it was a cinch she was pushing her looks in one way or another. He sipped the chaser and waited for her to make her play.

He didn’t have long to wait. Her eyes surveyed the room rapidly and she walked directly to him, taking the seat beside him. She ordered a grasshopper and the bartender mixed the drink in a hurry and brought it to her.

Baron paid for her drink.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “Are you with the convention?”

He shook his head. “I’m working the C out of Philly,” he said, deciding to fill her in right away so she could save her time. If she was a pro she’d know enough to make her pitch straight instead of playing games; if she was in the rackets she would leave him alone.

She didn’t seem to have heard him. “I came down with my husband for the convention,” she said. “You know, the auto merchants are having this convention. It started yesterday.”

He nodded briefly.

“My husband had this meeting tonight,” she said. “He won’t be back until one or two in the morning. It gets boring for a girl, just sitting alone in a room.”

He smiled; she didn’t waste her time. He made her grift at once—it had to be the badger game the way she was planting her story. She would take him to her room and then her husband would come on with a gun, pretending to be furious. The hubby would threaten to kill him and settle for a cash settlement, and that would be that.

But she wasn’t being very smooth about it. She should pretend to be more reluctant and make him do a little more of the work. Otherwise the mark wouldn’t swallow the bait