Ape said, uneasily, 'Take it easy, Pan.'
'Sure, sure. I don't include either of you, in any case.'
The two orangs had been whispering in low voices. Suddenly they both sprang forward, hurling themselves at the bars, chattering furiously, reaching through. Pan jumped back.
'What the hell?' Ape asked.
'They don't like seeing me with you,' Pan said. 'They think I'm a traitor.'
He shambled towards the door, the sailors following him. As usual, he walked more or less on all fours — that is, his knuckles took most of his weight. But now his head was down, too, and he looked less human than usual, less ape-like, really.
'You better cut out and get some whiskey, Happy,' Chief Bates said.
'We're outa dough again.'
There's a guy name of McGregor, Dandy McGregor, he's Jewish, over on Sand Street. He'll loan against my pay.'
'Ill call Landsman McGregor at the first chance,' Happy said.
Outside they found that Mr. MacMahon and three of his merrier men had joined up with them again, were standing a little apart from the Director and the Curator and a few other members of the staff.
Everyone's face lit up when they saw Pan and the two sailors. The Curator said, 'What were you really doing in there, Pan?'
'Saying a little prayer for my— Getting the rhesus monkeys drunk, sir. I promised my two friends here a show. It happened once by accident when I was living here.'
'And well I remember it,' the Curator said. 'We fired the keeper. But we can't fire you, because you never really intended to work for us, did you?'
'You can't ask a simian to keep other simians captive,' Pan said. 'Only man applies for a job as jail keeper. It is how you distinguish him from the lower animals.'
'Ouch,' the Curator said.
'How did you know I was up to no good in there?'
'I've known you since birth. Very well. And — always liked you, but you were never my most serious-minded primate.'
'Listen,' Pan said. 'There's something you ought to know. For your records. That female Satyrus in there —'
The Curator held up a long hand, for silence, and took a small notebook from his side pocket. He showed Pan an entry, for that day and date: Mated Susy to Pan Satyrus.
Pan looked at it, shook his head. 'Yes,' he said.
'Of course you'd know… I don't like the idea of my child being born in a zoo.'
'Don't be so serious,' the Curator said. 'Be more chimp-like.'
'I'm the age when chimps get serious. And anyway, for your files, it was no good. I've gotten too human. But not human enough to want a girl.' His skin twitched all over, like a horse's in fly time.
'You will help me with a better diet for the chimpanzees?' the Curator asked.
'Gladly.' Pan looked over. Ape was talking, very seriously, to Mr. MacMahon. The FBI man nodded, took out his wallet, gave the chief a bill. Ape handed it to Happy, who went trotting away.
'Where's Dr. Bedoian?'
'Talking to our veterinarian. Come on.'
Pan went.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Burfon's chimpanzee. sat down to table like a man. but while doing all this, he did not seem happy.
Now they were in a hotel room — a hotel suite, to be exact. There were two bedrooms, a living room, two baths, and a Utile hallway that led to the outside corridor.
They were alone, Dr. Bedoian, Pan and the flower of the U.S. Navy. Happy was what Ape called 'on the horn'; he was sitting in an easy chair by the phone, which rang every few minutes with offers for Pan to endorse this or appear at that To all of them Happy said a quiet 'No.'
The rooms on either side of them were occupied by Mr. MacMahon and his men.
Happy said: 'I bet the dames a bellboy'd get you here'd cost fifty bucks a head.'
'You ever looked to see they got heads?' Ape asked. He was drinking scotch-and-soda, not that he wanted it or liked it, he said, but because the elegance of the suite called for it.
'Chief, you take this phone a while,' Happy said. 'I've had it.'
'Yeah,' Ape said. He changed places with Happy, gave the downstairs operator a number. 'Chief Maguire… I don't care if he ain't aboard. Give him a signal at his quarters. This is Master Chief Torpedo-man Bates. Mac, I'm on this ape duty, you heard. Yeah, yeah, very funny. Now, get this, we need a yeoman, second'll do, an' some boots to stand guard, an' a petty officer to run the boots. In boondockers, canvas leggins an' all. Naw, no side-arms, but cartridge belts to let 'em know we're serious. How's Mary?. Well, too bad, but I tole ya ya shoulda married her, a dame with her own bar an' all. Yeah, we're at this hotel.'
He hung up. 'Yeoman'll handle the horn, boots'll keep the mob away, ya got nothing to gripe ya, Pan. It's like we was back in Florida,'.
But Pan sat huddled in the depths of an armchair, and seemed to pay no attention to them. Dr. Bedoian looked at his wristwatch. 'Maybe it is wearing off, Pan. Maybe it was just temporary.'
Pan raised his weary eyes. 'What?'
'The compulsion to talk. Maybe you are turning back into a chimpanzee.'
Pan shook his head, and then clasped his hands over his knees. Dr. Bedoian came over and put a hand on the simian brow. 'No fever,' he said. 'Why don't you go in one of the bedrooms and lie down? I'll come cover you up.'
Pan Satyrus continued to stare at the spotless, durable hotel carpet.
'Lissen,' Ape said, 'them boots'l! be here on the double. You can drill 'em, Pan. More fun than a barrel of — marines. Boots, they gotta do anything you tell 'em, wit' a master chief watchin'. You'll get a kick outa it, Pan.'
Pan slowly rubbed his long-fingered palms on his bony knees.
'Take a drink,' Happy said. But there was no conviction in his voice. 'Ill order up some dames, we'll have a ball, like in Florida. You tell the doc about how you got us a stake in that juke joint, charging those pigs to dance with them? Maybe we could sneak out and—'
He broke off. 'All right,' he said. 'So I swung and I missed. Think about this, Pan. You're going to get ten thousand dollars a week. What does a chimp cost, five hundred or a thousand dollars? You'll be able to buy up all the chimpanzees in all the zoos, and go on buying them as fast as the schmos can catch them. And turn them loose—'
Pan Satyrus spoke at last. He put his arms forward till his knuckles were on the floor, and then he swung forward on them. 'An ape is an ape,' he said. 'Not a philanthropist. I loved my mother. I enjoyed playing with a little boy gorilla when the Curator would let me. And I used to like being with other chimps, but. Only man buys gratitude and fame and fortune. Anyway, I'm not sure but what the television program is off. After I tore that girl's dress off.'
Dr. Bedoian went over to Happy and took a drink from the radioman's bottle. Then he turned and faced Pan. 'Yes,' he said, 'it's off. While you were in the Primate House, the Curator and I had a talk with the television people. The zoo vet was there, too. All three of us agreed that you had reached the age when you were no longer safe.'
'Going to shoot me, doctor? Going to slip me a nice, fatal hypo, friend Aram?'
'You know better than that.' His dark eyes, smaller than Pan's and white around the edges, watched the
