through his lips, low and long. “Now, that kind of merchandise, Anthony, you can sell anywhere.”

“No, that’s just it. It turns out the stuff is radioactive or something. Some kind of rays that get to you, because it was accidentally exposed to one of those atom piles. It makes you sick.”

“That sick I’d like to be.”

“Anyway, I don’t know the details. All I know is there may be a contact for the stuff in this town.”

“Who?”

“Smith. S. S. Smith, I think.”

“Oi! Contact, he says. Smith ain’t no contact, Tony boy. Smith is it!”

“All right, fine. Where is he?”

“Where is he? Where is he, he says.” Turtle clapped his hands around his throat. “Now listen, Tony. I want you to understand something. Nobody goes and sees Smith. Smith sends for the people he wants to see, and that ain’t many.”

“All right, stop with the courtesies. You sound like the Chamber of Commerce. Where is Smith?”

“Tony, to tell the truth, I ain’t sure. Who told ya, anyway?”

“Some guy back in Detroit. He was bragging about his big-shot contacts and out slipped the name. So from then on I didn’t need the guy back in Detroit, see?”

“Yeah, I see. You ever deal with the syndicate before, Tony?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m trying to tell ya. They are big, complicated, like a corporation. Like a government. You don’t just walk in, you see. They got red tape to go through.”

“Just how big is this Smith?”

“Locally, very big.”

“The biggest?”

“No—not for sure, anyway.”

“All right, Turtle, when do I find this big shot?”

“Lemme find out for sure, Tony, willya? Lemme listen around, get everything set up, and then we make our pitch.”

“Nuts to that. I gotta get this thing over with. Ninety-eight cents isn’t even life-size these days.”

“I’ll stake ya, Tony. You gotta play the angles a little in this town before you get anyplace. Like for instance, your suit looks like hell. You need new shoes.”

“You said you’d stake me.”

“Sure, sure, but give it time.”

“I’m going to find that guy tomorrow, Turtle, with you or without you.”

“All right, I give up. There’s a machine shop on Victory Boulevard in Burbank. The Quentin Machine Company. Try there. Smith’s got an office in the back there. Maybe you’re in luck. Does he know you’re coming?”

“Might be. I don’t know.”

“Whaddaya mean ya don’t know?”

“That guy in Detroit. He might or he might not have passed the word. I don’t know.”

“Anthony, you’re looking more stupid to me by the minute. Either—”

“Can it. I’m going tomorrow. What I need from you is a few bucks to get a shirt and a press job. Also, keep your ears open about those Feds. Also, I want to know everything you can get ahold of about my deal with Smith. If I can make a deal with Smith tomorrow, I want to know how they feel about it, who’s in on it, et cetera. The works, hear?”

“I hear.”

“Can you do it?”

“Anthony, you are looking at the original underground kid. I get to know everything.”

“You sound better already. From here on in, Turtle, you and me hit the big time. With this job out of the way, I got a career ahead of me. Shake?”

“Shake. And now, mine Anthony, how about the last cup of mud and we blow?”

“Let’s just blow. I gotta find a flop yet.”

“Flop? Anthony! Cart that thought outen your vocabulary. It so happens I got an extra corner in my room, and you’re staying with me. On second thought, you look too tacky for the likes of my accommodations. First I take you to a Turkish bath. Whilst you melt your tackiness with steam and soap, I get your suit done over and fetch a new shirt. And underwear?”

“Yeah. Underwear. And socks.”

“And socks. Only then, Anthony, will we be off to my chamber and a good night’s rest. Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They left the bar and walked a few blocks to the Turkish bath. As they went up the stairs, the flashy whore from the bar was coming down. She stopped swinging her hips and leaned against the wall to let them pass. The Turtle stopped next to her and chucked the woman under the chin.

“You work here too, honey?”

She made that nasty sound with her lips again.

“Whyn’t you go blow?” she said.

“Precisely,” and with a busy look on his face the Turtle ran up the stairs after Catell.

In the small lobby Catell took the Turtle aside. “What the hell is this place, coeducational?”

“Whassa matter, Anthony, you prejudiced or something?”

“I want a steam bath and a