“To be sure.” Before she could dodge he gave her cordial pat on the backside with his real hand.
“Audacious yet simple,” remarked Saint as he dusted off the windowsill in the abandoned warehouse prior to resting his elbow on it.
“Sure you can do this?” asked Smith.
Turning away from the view of the twilight canal, Saint said, “For a chap with my telekinetic gift, old man, it’s a piece of cake. Once we got ourselves a peek at Boss Nast in his skycar, there was no problem.”
Smith glanced at the wide, open doorway of the old warehouse. “Might as well commence then.”
The dapper green man rubbed his fingertips across his smooth forehead. “Actually I don’t have to materialize that heavy, gaudy vehicle,” he explained. “Rather I merely take over the controls and guide it here to our temporary lair.”
Saint’s eyes gradually closed, his body tensed.
Out on the darkening canal a nukebarge hooted as it went chugging by.
When Smith became aware of the sound of an approaching skycar, he drew out his stungun.
Saint opened his eyes, wiped perspiration from his face. “Our prey arrives, old chap.”
A large glittering black skycar came wooshing into the open warehouse to make a thumping, bouncy landing on the neowood planks of the dusty floor. The vehicle was decorated with inset gems on its fenders, wings and bumpers. A large golden
And in the passenger seat a huge lizardman in a two-piece yellow bizsuit was pounding on the glaz window with both beringed hands. His lean humanoid driver was still struggling with the stubborn controls.
“One feels the need of a bit of privacy.” Saint gestured at the overhead door of the warehouse and it clattered shut.
The uniformed driver leapt free of the freshly-arrived skycar, going for a weapon under his coat.
Smith dropped him with a shot from his stungun and jumped over the sprawled body and went sprinting to the skycar. “Sit,” he advised Boss Nast, looking in at him from the driver’s side.
The lizard raised his dark glasses to get a better look at Smith. “Youse is a dead man,” he explained in a grumbly voice.
“I want you to climb, very sedately, out of this crate,” instructed Smith, keeping his gun aimed at the fat man.
“Do youse have any idea who you’re ordering around, buddy?”
“You sure as hell better be Boss Nast or we wasted the last two hours setting this all up.”
“Yeah. I’m Boss Nast and youse are Mr. Dipshit from this moment hence, buddy.”
“Out, quick.”
The hefty lizardman came grunting out of his bejeweled skycar. “What mob are youse with anyway? Only some jerk with crap for brains would try to-”
“All you have to do, Boss, is tell me where Liz Vertillion is.”
“Huh?”
“Lieutenant Vertillion of the Salvation Squad. Where is she?”
The lizard’s laugh was a dry, brittle noise. “That nosy bitch? Yeah, she pissed me off, too,” he recalled. “But nowhere near as much as youse, buddy.”
“I want to find her.”
“Don’t let me stop youse,” Boss Nast said. “Look all youse want, buddy, and when you quit, I’ll come and get youse and put your-”
“One is beginning to doubt the efficacy of verbal persuasion and calm reason,” put in Saint. Reaching into a pocket, he produced a brand new truthdisc. “What say we avail ourselves of this jolly gimmick I borrowed from the local minions of the law?”
“Might as well.”
The lizardman’s eyebrows climbed up from behind the protection of his smoky glasses. “Youse guys are really asking for grief if you try to stick that doohickey on me.”
“Thing is, Boss,” said Smith as he took the metal disc from Saint, “you’re not going to be around to do anybody any harm for a while.”
“Huh? Listen, buddy, if youse rub me out my mob’ll-”
“Nope, we’re merely going to transport you to another clime.”
“How do you think youse can-”
“They call it telekinesis, old thing.”
Smith slapped the disc against Boss Nast’s scaly green neck. “Let’s get to the questions,” he suggested.
CHAPTER 20
A breeze came rattling through the artificial jungle. A plaz palm tree at the edge of the pathway Cruz and Jazz were following made a few creaking noises, then toppled over a few yards ahead of them.
“Watch it.” Cruz caught the young woman’s arm and kept her from progressing.
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Cruz,” she said, pulling free of his grasp. “But even in emergencies I don’t relish being handled.”
Smiling, Cruz glanced back again over his shoulder. “A reflex action,” he said. “Forgive my audacity.”
“There’s really no need to razz me about what is basically a serious…are you still thinking about those jungle women we met at the Main Pavillion?”
Ceasing to look backward, Cruz climbed over the newly fallen tree. “You must admit they were an attractive gaggle of ladies.”
“If a bunch of hussies in skimpy animal skin skivvies is your idea of-”
“You weren’t as critical of the junglemen.”
Scrambling over the imitation tree, Jazz said, “And their dippy names. No wonder nobody much is coming to this con. Camilla, Rulah, Marga, Fantomah…dreadful.”
“There’s the Gorilla House up ahead.” Cruz pointed with his metal forefinger.
“Well, Professor Winiarsky’s supposed to be living in a hut right behind that,” said Jazz. “He must really be in a dire predicament, hiding out here. Gorillas have to be smelly, noisy.-”
“They don’t keep their paws to themselves either.” From his waistband he tugged a small stungun. “Take this, my pet, and go see if the professor’s at home. I’ll join you shortly.”
“At a time like this are you planning on a shabby assignation with one of those jungle bimbos who-”
“Onward,” he urged.
The Gorilla House was a large circular building of pale yellow brix, from the inside of which came roars and chest thumpings. Imitation jungle surrounded it.
“I didn’t think you could be distracted by the first bare thigh that-”
“I’ll be with you soon. Trust me.”
Shrugging, Jazz started making her way around the Gorilla House.
After glancing around, Cruz ducked into the wide arched doorway of the big building. He stationed himself close to one wall, covered with shadow, watching the bright day outside.
“…Cage Three we see the gorillas spending an idyllic morning in their native habitat,” droned the vox-box over the nearest glazfronted display area.
Cruz stroked his metal arm as he waited.
“Bingo,” he said to himself a moment later.
Ducked low, he eased out of the building and into the brush.
A slim blonde young woman in a scant costume of black-and-white animal skin had come skulking out of the
