by Ron Hubbard
He was forced to sit down in the chair, his captor behind him, still holding him.
One of the men beside the desk gestured at Heller and addressed the manager. “So this is one of your fancy boys.”
“No! No!” cried the man behind the desk. “We don’t use young men here!”
The other gangster near the desk laughed in disbelief. “Aw, quit the (bleep), Vantagio. What do you charge for a boy with a pretty face like his?”
“Let’s get back to business, Vantagio. Faustino says you are going to push drugs here and you push drugs here. We supply, you sell.”
“Never!” said Vantagio. “We’d lose all our clientele! They’d be sure to think we were trying to bleed them for information!”
“Aw, what the hell do the niggers and chinks at the UN know about information!” sneered the gangster nearest Vantagio. “You got to learn new lessons. Faustino calls the shots now and you know it! So where do we start? Before we waste you, that is. Wrecking furniture? Disabling a few whores?”
The other gangster said, “How about the pretty new boy?”
The two hoods looked at each other and grinned. The one who had just made the suggestion lit up a cigarette and got it burning brightly. “For starts, we’ll just put a few deep holes in his face and cost you some fees!”
Holding the glowing cigarette, the gangster got up and started across the room. The man gripping Heller from behind tightened his lock on Heller’s arms.
Abruptly Heller brought his feet off the floor!
He did a sitting back flip!
His toes struck the man behind him on the head!
Heller’s hands caught the sides of the chair seat. He catapulted himself backwards, straight over the head of the one who had been holding him! He landed behind him!
He had the man’s gun out of its shoulder holster!
The gangster halfway across the room had stopped, staring!
The one still near the desk swung up a gun. “Get out of the way!” he screamed at the fellow in the middle of the room. That one promptly dropped to the floor!
The hood near the desk fired!
Heller was behind the one who had held him. The bullet struck the gangster’s chest!
Using his former captor as a shield, Heller was trying to get off a shot.
The hood near the desk fired again. Twice!
Both shots struck Heller’s former captor.
The hood at the desk realized he was shooting his own man! He flinched.
Heller slammed a shot straight into his heart!
The one crouched in the middle of the floor had his gun out. He was trying to get a shot.
Heller got a glimpse of him, momentarily putting himself in view. The man on the floor fired!
Another shot slammed into Heller’s former captor.
Heller ducked to floor level.
He drove a shot straight into the skull of the man who had been crouching on the floor.
Two dead men! The third still flopping about in his death agonies.
“Jesus!” said Vantagio Meretrici at the desk.
Running feet outside approaching.
Heller jumped back away from the door.
The hood who had been at the entrance got half his face and an arm in. He saw Heller.
He was raising a gun!
Heller slammed a shot into his upper shoulder.
The man was hurled back out the door, spinning around. But he did not go down. The door banged shut. Running feet were racing away.
With a roar, the car outside revved up. A car door slammed and the limousine could be heard racing away on screeching tires.
“Jesus!” said Vantagio. Then he seemed to come to life. “Kid, give me a hand, quick!”
The body closest to the desk had fallen on a throw rug. Vantagio grabbed a corner of it and, using it as a kind of sled, sped to the door. He blocked the door open with a chair. Then he grabbed the rug again and skidded it and its burden out into the lobby.
The manager pointed at the man Heller had used for a shield and then out into the lobby. Heller lugged the body out and dumped it in the lobby.
The chortle of distant cop cars sounded.
Together, the manager and Heller dragged the third body out.
An old woman had appeared in the lobby, a neatly uniformed cleaning woman. “Get the blood off the floor in the office!” the manager yelled at her. “Be quick!”
The cop cars were nearer.
The manager dived behind the desk. The clerk was there on the floor, tied up and gagged. Heller took the clerk and cut the bonds off.
The manager arranged the bodies in the lobby. He took the gun Heller had used and wiped it off and put it in the hand of the one who had been Heller’s captor.
The cop cars were drawing up. “The (bleepards),” said the manager. “They had the fuzz tipped to rush in and grab me if there was any shooting!”
The manager surveyed the scene, said something fast in Italian to the clerk and was about to tell Heller something, probably to beat it, when a stentorian voice called out from the entrance, “Everybody freeze!” The everybody was the manager, Heller and the clerk.
A police inspector, fronted with two cops holding riot shotguns, was there. He was a huge man, middle-aged, flabby. “All right, Meretrici, you’re under arrest!”
“For what?” said Vantagio.
The police inspector was looking at the bodies. He glared at the clerk. “What happened?”
“Just like you see,” said the clerk. “That one,” and he pointed to the body that was furthest from the entrance, the one Heller had used for a shield, “was evidently trying to get away from the others. And they came busting in the door after him and they all started shooting each other.”
The police inspector examined each of the bodies and the guns.
“They should be arrested,” said Vantagio. “We don’t allow shooting in here!”
“Wise (bleep),” said the inspector. He came over to Heller. “Who the hell are you?”
“He’s a delivery boy,” said Vantagio. “He came in from the back after the shooting.”
“(Bleep),” said the inspector.
“I wish you’d do your civic duty,” said Vantagio, “the ones the taxpayers pay you for and get these bodies the hell out of here. They already ruined one rug!”
“Don’t you touch nothing,” said the inspector. “The stiff team will be here in a few minutes and they’ll want pictures of all this. And you two,” he pointed at the manager and clerk, “don’t fail to show up at the coroner’s inquest! I oughta jail you as material witnesses!”
“We’ll be glad to perform our civic duties,” said Vantagio. “You just make sure you give honest businessmen better protection hereafter!” He glared at the bodies. “Hoodlums running all over the streets!”
The inspector left. A patrolman stood guard over the bodies so no one could corrupt the evidence.
“I’ll take that baggage in my office,” Vantagio said to Heller and beckoned.
Heller picked up his suitcases and the carry-all and followed him in.
Chapter 2
The cleaning woman had finished mopping up the blood. Vantagio turned the air conditioner on to “vent,” probably to clear out the drifting cordite smoke. He seated Heller in a chair and then sat back down at his ornate desk.
“Kid,” said Vantagio, “you saved my life! I never before seen such terrific shooting!” He regarded Heller for a bit. “How did you come to get here, anyway?”
Heller told him he had been looking for a place to live and then quoted his conversation with the taxi driver in which he had asked for a house.
Vantagio laughed. “Oh, kid, you are a greenhorn. Strictly from the backwoods. Listen, kid. In the vernacular of our fair city, the word ‘house’ means a brothel, a bordello, a bagnio, a crib, a sporting house, a cathouse, a whorehouse or, in short, a house of prostitution. And here you are. This is the pleasure palace of the United Nations, the top ‘house
’ in all Manhattan!”
He started to laugh again and then he sobered. “But I can thank La Santissima Vergine that you arrived. I was sure my number was up!”
He sat back, looking at Heller, and thought for a moment. “You’re kind of handy to have around. Kid, could I offer you a job? Something respectable like a bouncer?”
“No,” said Heller. “Thank you. I’ve got to get a diploma. People don’t listen to you unless you have a diploma.”
“Oh, so true! I’m a great believer in education! I have my master’s degree in political science from Empire University,” he said proudly, “and here I am at the top of my profession, head of the UN whorehouse!”
At that moment there was a commotion at the door and two very disheveled men rushed in. Although their clothes were expensive looking, they were very crumpled.
“Where you been?” Vantagio shouted at them.
“We got here as fast as we could,” said one. “At dawn that God (bleeped) Inspector Grafferty busted into our apartment and arrested us for vagrancy and littering. It took until just now for the shyster to bail us out!”
“It was a setup,” said Vantagio. “Police Inspector Bulldog Grafferty,” and he spat sideways on the carpet.
“He was right up the street waiting! He got you two gunsels out of the way so the Faustino mob could come in here and put the pressure on. If I’d refused and they’d have killed me, Grafferty was right on hand to prove they wasted me in self-defense. If this kid hadn’t crashed the party, I’d be dead!” And he told them exactly what had happened and what Heller had done.
“Jesus!” said the two men in unison, looking at Heller.
“Now go down to the dry-cleaning room and get yourselves pressed up and get on duty. We can’t have you looking like a couple of bums! This is a high-class joint!”
“Yes, Mr. Meretrici,” they both said and rushed out.
“This really is a high-class joint,” Vantagio repeated to Heller. “The UN crowd is funny. If they thought we pushed drugs, they’d be sure we were trying to bleed information out of them. No, sir. We stay with tradition. We serve bootleg booze. And booze and drugs don’t mix, kid.”
“Lethal,” said Heller, doubtless remembering his book.
“Eh? Oh, right. You sure said it, kid. No gang wars in booze at all these days. And there’s just as much money to be made in bootleg booze as there ever was in Prohibition. Did you know Federal taxes was ten bucks a fifth now? And it’s more respectable. More traditional.
“Now, there are those that will tell you you can’t have prostitution without having drugs. But that’s baloney. The whores go silly. They get all dried up. They don’t last two years. And they’re an expensive investment! We have to train them, send them to Towers Modeling School and hygiene clinics as doctors’ assistants and postgraduate them to an ex-Hong Kong whore. That’s expensive. You can’t amortize it fast enough. Internal Revenue Service won’t let you write off the investment that quick. So, no drugs, kid.”
“No drugs,” said Heller, probably thinking of Mary Schmeck.
“Right,” said Vantagio. “The UN clientele would simply evaporate. And we’d have to pay off the DEA. We’d go bankrupt!”
“Well,” said Heller. “I’m sorry I made a mistake. I’ll be going now.”
“No, no!” said Vantagio in alarm. “You saved my life. And even Clint Eastwood couldn’t have beaten that gun play! You’re handy to have around! Listen, business is slack — the UN isn’t in session and it’s summer and nobody’s in town. You came for a room. There’s two hundred rooms and suites in this building! I got a little room — it was once a maid’s room — up on the second floor you can have.”
“Well,” said Heller, “if you’ll let me pay for it.”
“Pay? Well, how about you just sitting around the lobby now and then, two or three times a week maybe. For just an hour or two. I’ll see you get some decent clothes.”
I thought, no, no, Heller. He knows the Faustino mob saw you! He’s just going to use you to scare them off!
He must have seen Heller was reluctant. “Look, kid. You’re going to college. If you go to Empire, I can give you some steers and pointers. We don’t have a restaurant but we have a kitchen that serves great food to rooms and you can get sandwiches. We can’t serve you any booze because it’s obvious you’re a minor and it would be illegal. But you could have all the soft drinks you wanted. Listen. We’ll even keep you from being embarrassed by the UN people thinking you’re part of the help. We’ll cook up some story about you being the son of a dictator or something incognito and living here to go to college.”
It wasn’t the danger I was worried about. I couldn’t see how I could sneak Raht in there to rifle his baggage! Whorehouses go crazy when you try to rifle baggage. They think you’re trying to roll the customers and get them in trouble with the police! And those gunsels had looked formidable! It would be like trying to reach Heller in jail!
I knew what was wrong with Vantagio. He was still in shock and overreacting with gratitude. Heller wasn’t all that prepossessing!
“Now, this place is full of good-looking women,” said Vantagio, “and a good-looking kid with muscles like yours will have them swarming at you. But you can always call one of the madames if they bother you. What say, kid? Is it a deal?”
“Do you have boys here?” said Heller.
“Cripes no!” exploded Vantagio. “That was just that dumb hood’s idea. He’s… was… gay. So how about it, kid?”
Heller barely started to nod when Vantagio was out of his seat and racing to the door. He peeked into the lobby. The stiff team and bodies were gone. The cleaning lady was mopping up the floor.
Vantagio said to the clerk, “Hit the buzzers.” And shortly numerous staff began to drift in and then the elevators started going and numerous beautiful women in various stages of dishabille began to drift into the lobby. They were of all colors from all parts of the world, though white predominated. The lobby got pretty full of half-bare legs and half-exposed breasts.
Vantagio grabbed off Heller’s cap and told him to stand up on a marble ledge. The sea of upturned lovely faces looked like the color plates of the porno and movie magazines had all gone into a mad shuffle. A montage of alluring beauties!
In a very commanding voice, Vantagio said, pointing at Heller, “This kid just saved my life. I want you to treat him decent.”
A whoosh of pent-up breath sounded in the room and a concerted “Ooooo!” I couldn’t understand it. What could they see in Heller? Then I realized it was off-season for them. Man-starved.
“He’s going to live here,” said Vantagio.
If the “Ooooo” was loud before, it doubled now, interspersed with some pants!
Oh, my Gods, I thought. If the Countess Krak could only see this!
“Now, listen,” said Vantagio, raising his voice to be heard, “he’s underage as you can plainly see. He’s jail bait! And if he complains about anybody bothering him, out that (bleepch) goes!”
Mutters.
Vantagio shouted up to the balcony, “Mama Sesso! You hear that?”
A big, heavy-breasted woman, black-haired, muscular, mustached, shouted, “I’m here, Signore Meretrici!” And she came forward to the rail and looked down.
“As Chief Madame,” shouted Vantagio, “you’re going to see that enforced and that all the other madames enforce it!”
“I got it, Signore Meretrici. If they don’t do what the young boy tells them, out they go.”
“No, no, no!” cried Vantagio. “You’re to keep them off him! He’s a kid. Jail bait! They could get us on a morals charge!”
Mama Sesso nodded severely. “I a-got it, Signore Meretrici. I a-seen what the boy do on-a the close circuit TV. He save-a you life. He’s-a faster than a-Cesare Borgia! He’s a-good to have around. Maybe he save-a all-a our lives next. La Santissima Vergine send-a him. If they don’ do right by the young boy, out-a they go!”
“Right!” said Vantagio.<
br />
Some madames swatted their palms together and the assemblage began to disperse, several sets of lovely eyes remaining reluctantly on Heller. Did they suppose, I thought disgustedly, that he was something to eat? He was far too young for their general taste!
A uniformed attendant came up and struggled with Heller’s baggage. Heller helped him, and because the elevator was jammed, they walked up to the second floor on thickly carpeted stairs.
Vantagio led the way down a long hall and they came to a small room. It was plain but it was clean-almost sanitary. The iron bedstead was white and so was the chest of drawers. The bathroom was small but modern. All strictly utility.
“How’s this?” said Vantagio.
“Fine,” said Heller.
Some of the women had followed down the hall. But Vantagio peremptorily ordered them away. He got out some old cards and a ball point. Using the back of one, he wrote an address on it.
“Now, this,” he said to Heller, “is a tall man’s shop. You go out and buy yourself a summer suit you haven’t grown out of. And get something besides baseball shoes! You got dough?”
“Lots,” said Heller.
“Good. But you wash up and when you come down, bring any excess dough and I’ll give you a small personal safe with your own combination. We want to keep this an honest house!” He left.
Heller stowed his things, washed up, checked the lock on his door and then went down with the fifty thousand in the paper sack his breakfast had come in.
Vantagio showed him the battery of private safes and how to open one. It seemed UN people carried documents and things around they wanted stowed for the few hours they might be there.
Heller mastered how to change the combination and then changed it so fast I couldn’t read it off! But it would be impossible to get near it or even get to his baggage. My interest in stealing it was purely academic. It punched through how protected he was now!
He left the Gracious Palms on foot, happy I suppose to have some exercise. I wasn’t happy. He had more guns pointing at him now than I could easily count. The Faustino mob knew his face and he had killed three of their men, one of them maybe a lieutenant of the mob! And add in Police Inspector Grafferty. He had seen Heller face to face and cops remember things — that’s their trade: mentally cataloguing who to shoot down next!
