'I think we can count on the Communist bloc to support our resolution of denunciation,' Singh added fuel to the fire.
'We'd better let them go,' the first cop said. 'Remember what happened to that guy who stopped a DPL for speeding? He's pounding a beat in Staten Island now.'
'Yeah. And how about the guy who tried to take that knife away from that drunken ambassador? He got bused down to patrolman and sent up to Riverdale.'
'I congratulate you on your wisdom,' Singh told them.
He turned on his heel and started to march off. I followed him. But he stopped after a few steps, turned around, and strode back to the cops.
'What do you want now?' the one whose eyebrows had been burned off whined. 'We said you could go.'
'My lighter, please,' Singh said politely, holding out his hand.
The cop took a deep breath, and I feared for his blood pressure. His face was a study in frustrated rage. But he handed Singh the lighter.
'Thank you.' Singh rejoined me and we swaggered off together. 'Where to, Mr. Victor?' he asked after a moment.
'I don't know about you, but I could use a drink,' I told him.
'An admirable suggestion.'
We found a little bar just off Lexington in the Sixties. It was jammed with people, their shadows dancing over the walls in the sputtering candlelight. I paused in the entrance, remembering my pocketless state and the lack of money which went along with it.
Singh sensed my embarrassment without my having to say anything. 'My treat, Mr. Victor.' He took me by the elbow gently and guided me into the place.
'A ghost!' some girl screamed, startled by my billowing white sheet.
'And he brought his Swami with him,' a male voice observed a bit drunkenly, spotting Singh's turban.
'Spirits for the spirit,' a second man told the bartender. 'Haunting's thirsty work.'
'That it is,' I agreed, squeezing up to the bar with Singh. 'Scotch on the rocks,' I ordered. 'Make it a double.'
'The same,' Singh told him.
'You fellows coming from a costume party?' the man at my elbow asked seriously.
'A seance,' I assured him just as gravely.
'I am a medium,' Singh added, getting into the act. 'And this is a spirit I have just summoned from beyond.'
'Yeah. Sure.' The man edged away nervously.
'Hey, you guys, what's the latest word on the blackout?' the fellow on the other side of Singh asked. 'What's going on out there?'
'It's very dark,' Singh told him.
'Youre telling me? Hey, you know where I was when this thing started?'
'No, but you're going to tell us, aren't you?'
'Sure. I was in the john at Penn Station along with about a hundred other guys. It was rush hour, you know, with a whole slew of guys lined up waiting for the guys at the urinals to finish. Well, when the lights went out, it really startled some guys. I mean, they just turned around without thinking. First thing you know, I'm caught in a regular crossfire. Well, you can imagine -'
'Yes,' Singh sniffed. 'But I don't have to imagine. There is a decided aroma bearing out your story.'
'That's too bad,' another man chimed in. 'But it isn't as bad as what happened to me. I was in a poker game up in the office. There's a wowser of a pot and I'm sitting there with four aces when the lights go out. By the time we get the matches out, somebody's walked off with the kitty. How do you like that? Best hand I've had in ten years and I don't even collect on it!'
'You think that's tough,' a girl piped up. 'I live in an elevator building, you know? Also, I work nights -'
'Doing what?' a male voice asked insinuatingly.
'Never mind that,' she continued. 'So anyway, I always get up around four o'clock in the afternoon and have breakfast. Well, today I get up and I'm out of coffee. I don't bother to get dressed, just throw on a coat and go down to the grocery. Only while I'm there, the power goes out and I can't get back up in the elevator. And here I am trapped with nothing on but this fur coat and what I sleep in.'
'What do you sleep in?' The male voice was getting more interested.
'My skin,' she admitted demurely.
'Can I buy you a drink?' he asked.
'Sure. Only don't come too close. You smell awful funny.'
'That's Penn Station toilet water,' he told her accurately. 'It's the latest thing in men's colognes.'
'Well, I don't think it's going to catch on,' she said positively. 'I'd hate to tell you what it smells like to me!'
'Those people are leaving that table.' Singh grabbed my arm and pointed. 'Let's get out of this crush.'
'Okay.'
We made our way to the table. We passed a line-up of people waiting to use the wall telephone. The guy holding the receiver to his ear at the moment seemed to be having a rough time. Even in the faint candlelight I could see that he was sweating.
'But I tell you, I'm trapped. It's a city-wide black out!' he was screaming into the mouthpiece over the din of the crowd. 'No, of course I'm not with another woman!' he said indignantly, squeezing the breast of the girl hanging onto him. 'No, I'm not in 'some bar' either! I'm in the waiting room at Grand Central!… For Pete's sake, it's a citywide emergency! How can you be so suspicious at a time like this?… Okay, so I work for Con Ed. So what?… So you wouldn't put it past me to what?… Now, Martha, that's ridiculous… I tell you, I had nothing to do with it!… All right, dammit, you're right! I would do anything to get away from you for a night!… Okay… Okay now, stop crying… But I swear to you, Martha, I did not pull any switches just so I could have a night out… Besides, how could I, Martha? I'm only a meter-reader, remember?… I know you don't trust me, but…'
We passed out of earshot. The two men were just getting up from the postage- stamp table as we reached it, and we grabbed it fast. It was almost pitch dark in this part of the lounge. And it was so crowded I was practically in the laps of the couple at the table directly behind me. Some are born eavesdroppers, some become eavesdroppers, and some have eavesdropping thrust upon them. Right then, I fell in the last category.
'God bless this blackout,' the woman was saying. 'Ten years of marriage, and you've never behaved as romantically with me as you're behaving tonight.'
'Yes,' the man replied. 'And you've never aroused me so. I don't know what it is, but your body feels warmer and softer than it ever has before.'
'Oh, darling, don't,' she tittered encouragingly, belying her words.
'Nobody can see.' His hand slid down from her breast and dropped under the table where it squeezed a leg.
Unfortunately, it was my leg. 'Watch your aim, Mac,' I protested.
'Oh, sorry. It's just that the Mrs. is almost never sexy like this. I guess I got carried away.' He removed his hand. 'She's like a firecracker,' he confided. 'My wife! I wouldn't have believed she still had it in her!'
'Oh, darling!' Another trill-like giggle followed by the sound of kissing.
I turned my attention to Singh. His features were hard to make out. I more or less guessed that he was smiling at the incident. But I was wrong. His tone was serious when he spoke. And his mind was on something else. 'Mr. Victor,' he said, 'we must talk. It is urgent.'
'Shoot,' I told him.
'Mr. Victor, I know who you are, and -' His voice fell away because at that very moment the lights suddenly came back on.
I blinked in the unexpected glare and managed to focus my eyes. The first thing I saw was the bartender with his hand in the till. He was stuffing bills into his pocket. Now he turned brick red and hurriedly closed the cash register.
There was turmoil at the table behind me. 'You're not my husband!' the woman was screaming as she pulled down her skirt.
