They looked around. Naturally, there was no Heck.
* * * * *
Heck bounced on canvas.
He looked up. A menacing-looking fat man came toward him wearing
bathing trunks and stale sweat. Another menacing-looking fat man was
on the other side of Heck. This was in a wrestling ring. Outside the
ring, an enormous woman some six feet tall and five feet wide and quite
shapeless and chewing on a wad of tobacco big as a baseball yelled in a
gravelly voice:
"Cut it, cut it! Where'd you come from, sonny-boy?"
"I'm looking for Johnny The Cat Simese," Heck said.
"I'm The Cat," a third wrestler, wearing a bathrobe, said, and came
over to the ring. "What's he want, Ada?"
"How should I know?" the fat woman said, spitting a brown stream of
tobacco juice.
"It's confidential," Heck said, "and it's urgent." He climbed awkwardly
through the ropes and walked along the ring apron, then climbed down.
He whispered in Johnny The Cat Simese's well-cauliflowered ear: "I'm
looking for Mr. Talese."
"What makes you think I know anybody named Talese? Wait a minute!
Talese! You mean Scarface Willy."
"Yes," said Heck.
The next thing that happened happened so fast that Heck hardly knew he
was the target of a well-coordinated wrestling attack. Two big hands
caught him. A big leg got behind him. He fell down. A big body fell on
top of him, squeezing the wind out of his lungs. He looked bleary-eyed
into Johnny The Cat's face.
"So!" Johnny The Cat cried exultantly. "So!"
"Wh--what's the matter?" Heck managed.
"As if you didn't know, pal. Get up!"
"That's impossible. You're on top of me."
Johnny The Cat got up. He propelled Heck to his feet and got his right
arm in a hammerlock, forcing it up between his shoulder blades. "So,"
he said, "old Willy was right."
"R--right about what?"
"No rough stuff here, please," Ada said. "Only in the ring."
"This is the Chicago guy," Johnny The Cat declared.
Ada came over and slapped Heck's face. I can teleport, Heck thought in
despair, but it wouldn't do any good. The Cat was holding him. "I've
never been to Chicago in my life," Heck protested.
"Not much you ain't," said Johnny The Cat.
"Well, I haven't."
"You might as well admit it. You're Little Hymie. Well, ain't you?"
"No," said Heck. "I'm Hector Finch of _Hector Finch, We Sell Anything_."
"You're Little Hymie and you come here to rub out Scarface Willy. That
Willy now, he's smart. He figures the knock-out boy has got to find him
first, see? So he sends his troopers--"
"Troopers?"
"Like me, stupid. He sends us out on our usual business, figuring you,
Little Hymie, would come looking for him by finding us."
* * * * *
"You're right," Heck said suddenly. "Take me to Scarface Willy for my
punishment."
"Take you to him, pal? That's the last thing we'll do. We'll take you,
all right. We'll take you outside for a little schlammin, then back you
go to Chicago as a warning to the other boys that Scarface Willy is
strong enough to buck the whole damn Syndicate if he wants-ta."
"Then, in that case, I am not Little Hymie."
"You just now said you was."
Big Ada said, somewhat exasperated: "Will you guys for cryin' out loud
make up yer minds?"