walked him to the rear of the shop.

There was another door there. Through the tool crib and past a noisy pump motor there was another office. The foreman opened the door, the two machinists gave a light push, and Catell stumbled into the room. The foreman kicked the door shut and Catell couldn’t hear the pump motor any more. He suddenly felt pleasantly cool.

Aside from the soundproofing and the air conditioning, there was nothing special about the room. White composition walls, a leatherette couch, a small desk with three phones, no windows. The light came from fluorescent fixtures in the ceiling.

“Don’t try anything, mister. You and I ain’t alone here.”

“I figured we weren’t,” Catell said. He got off the floor and watched the foreman go through another door. Catell sat down on the couch. He couldn’t hear a sound except for the faint humming of the air conditioning. Then the foreman came back. Without bothering to look at Catell he walked past and out through the soundproofed door. A while later the inner door opened again.

The man was well built and well tailored. He had glossy hair and his mouth was very red. If this was a syndicate man, Catell figured him for one of those smart young kids who came up fast because he knew how to take orders without questions, and how to follow through without scruples.

Tailor-made stopped opposite Catell and gave him a dead look.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

For a second the dead look came alive and Catell thought the guy was going to jump him, but then he relaxed and sat on the edge of the desk.

“You got this wrong, Blue Lips,” he said. “I don’t answer, I ask. And you, Blue Lips, you answer what I ask. Now, what’s your name?”

“If you’re Smith, I’ll talk. If not, I don’t talk.”

“I’m Smith, Blue Lips. Mr. Smith, that is.”

“O.K. My name’s Catell. Tony Catell. I got your name from a friend of mine in Detroit. Paar’s his name. If you got the time, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“I got the time, Blue Lips. Talk.”

Catell didn’t like the way things were going, and the tailor-made punk was getting under his skin. What made Catell really hot was the fact that he’d been had. This punk wasn’t S. S. Smith any more than the foreman had been a big shot. No big shot talked tough like a punk.

“Call me that name once more and the next time you look in the shaving mirror you won’t recognize the face you see. Now where’s Smith?”

Catell noticed that the guy didn’t move after the speech. He saw him go stiff and his chin started to quiver, as if he wanted to cry. He didn’t cry, though. The next thing Catell saw was the business end of a banker’s special, and Tailormade was holding it. He was holding it very steady.

“What name you talking about, Blue Lips?” His voice sounded very gentle.

Catell looked at the steady gun and then there was the sound of shoes creaking. The gun came closer. It was very still in the room, just the slow creak of the new shoes. Catell’s shirt felt wet and clammy on his back, and he started to rise.

“Go ahead, Blue Lips. You can get up if you want.” That voice was as smooth as silk.

Then it was very quiet again. The shoes had stopped creaking, the gun was very close. Suddenly there was a sharp, nasty sound, loud like a splintering tree. The gun was cocked now. Cold with sweat, Catell looked up at the man’s face. The lidded eyes looked soft, the mouth was lax and very red, and nothing moved but the chin, still quivering. Then Catell saw the man’s neck. It was a smooth neck, and with a weird fascination Catell could see how the neck was swelling. Slowly it started to bulge over the starched collar and a thick vein grew under the skin, like a glistening worm.

Then the mouth moved and the soft voice said, “Now, Blue Lips?”

“Now what, gentlemen?”

They both jumped. A portly man stood by the inner door, his short arms folded across his front, and he was smiling around a cigar.

There was no emotion in the way the gunman moved. He stepped back slowly, turned his head toward the open door, and slipped the gun very smoothly under his tailormade jacket.

“Mr. Smith,” he said. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I know,” Mr. Smith said. “I was just watching.”

Catell wasn’t taking the whole