down, man. You wanna arouse the whole block?”

“Take it easy. You can hardly hear it. What’s the matter with your nerves, anyway?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with my nerves.”

“You scared of this Schumacher, maybe? He’s over sixty, you know. Here, have another cigarette.”

“Thanks “

“Well? Go ahead and smoke it.”

“For chrissakes, stop picking on me. In case you and that damn box there haven’t heard, Schumacher’s got a reputation that goes back to when you were tripping over your diapers. And turn that crazy ticker off, or whatever it is.”

“Can’t do that, Harry It’s science. And science never—”

“Aw, shut up!”

They walked without talking for a while. Only the traffic at the ends of the street made a noise, and the box they had along. Every so often it ticked and crackled.

“Why’s that damn thing ticking all the time? Is everything radioactive, for chrissakes?”

“This is nothing. You should hear it tick when there’s hot stuff around. But I guess you won’t hear it perform today. Schumacher would be crazy to keep that gold around. What time now?”

“Three sharp.”

“O.K., let’s go.”

“Wait!”

At the end of the street where the closed truck was parked a man had appeared and seemed about to enter the short street. The driver of the truck climbed out of his cab and started toward the man. The stranger stopped, bent toward the wall of a building, and lit a cigarette. Then he continued past the street and disappeared.

“Thank God,” said the man with the Geiger counter. “For a minute I thought that guy in the blue coat was coming this way. All right, let’s go. We stay in the hall for ten minutes while the guys from the back go upstairs and check the corridors. Then Herron joins us and we go up.”

“I just hope that guy in the blue coat doesn’t decide to come back.”

Tony Catell had spent his life trying to avoid trouble, and he had developed a sharp nose for it. When he turned into Schumacher’s street something brought him up short. There weren’t enough people. It was too quiet. Two guys down the block were walking too slowly.

Cops.

Catell controlled a panicky urge to run and took a step toward the wall of the nearest building. He lit a cigarette. Looking over his cupped hands, he saw a man climb out of a truck, turn toward him, and stop. The guy wasn’t sure, but he was watching. Who did they want? Schumacher? Himself? Suddenly a strong hot hate boiled up inside him, killing his doubt, his fear, his short moment of hesitation. Nothing was going to get in his way, nothing! Catell didn’t wonder how they had found Schumacher, whether they knew the gold was there, or whether they knew about him. He didn’t even stop to figure what to do, or how, or when. Catell turned into a thing possessed with one thought only: Get that gold!

He had lit a cigarette to make his stop at the corner seem natural. He walked on so they wouldn’t bother to look at him. And then he saw the delivery car. It was parked in the driveway a few yards ahead, and on the side of the car was lettered “TV Repair.” The driver was opening the door in the rear.

It took Catell a few quick steps to get behind the man at the truck and less than a second to jab his hand, stiff fingered, into the driver’s right kidney. The man didn’t scream. He exhaled with a rattle in his throat and started to sag. Catell jerked the rear door open, tossed the man in, and jumped after him. Without bothering to close the door, he smashed his fist into the groaning face and the man went limp. Catell took off his hat and coat, ripped the jacket and cap off the unconscious driver, and put them on. Then he jumped out the back. Whistling a tune, he slammed the back door shut, jumped in the driver’s seat, and drove back to the corner that he had just left.

Catell pulled around the corner fast, skimming the parked truck by inches. The unconscious man in the back rolled heavily against a television set. Glass broke and picture tubes without their housings crashed around the floor. Catell came to a sharp stop in front of Schumacher’s house and, still whistling, jumped out of the truck and opened the door in the back. With one hand he pulled the television set toward him; with the other he reached for a wrench.