plaster. I sat down, crossed my legs and smiled at him.
'Win a few, lose a few,' I said.
For the first time, emotion showed in his eyes. There was fear, and there was hate, a lot of hate. I shouldn't have goaded him; it was too inspirational. The main power switch was a good ten feet away, but I'd already seen the strength he had in his legs. He gave a tremendous yell, leaped straight up in the air, planted his feet against the wall and dove for the power switch.
I knew he was going to make it even before he did, and the gun was closer to him than it was to me. His fingertips hit the control switch, plunging the floor into darkness. I heard his body hit the water and I hit the floor at the same time. I raced down the corridor, toward the stairs. I could hear Kee splashing behind me, and there was no doubt in my mind that he had the gun. I caromed off the wall at the end of the corridor, scampered down the stairs and hit the steel door.
Naturally, it was locked. There wasn't going to be any naked dwarf running through the sacred corridors of Marten Hall.
I spun and crouched in the darkness, trying to make myself as small a target as possible. The frame business was finished; there were one too many bodies to explain. That meant Kee would want me out of the way as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was going to be like shooting a dwarf in a barrel.
I held my breath and waited for the crash of the gun. All I heard was a dull click. The watered fouled the firing mechanism of the gun. I waited.
I could hear Kee descending the stairs slowly. The job I'd done on his two assistants had given him some respect, but that wasn't enough. Even if I hadn't spent the last twenty-four hours under water, I'd have been no match for Kee. On the other hand, I couldn't just sit and wait for him to beat my brains out.
I waited a few seconds, then lunged upward, sweeping my hand in the general direction where I hoped his ankle would be. I got lucky. I caught his ankle and yanked. He went backward, landing on his back on the stairs. There was no way of getting by him; both his hands were deadly weapons, and he'd have broken every bone in my body by the time I got halfway past. But I had the angle on his midsection. I stiffened my fingers and drove them as hard as I could into his groin. That took the power out of a kick that would have killed me. His heel bounced off my rib cage, and I felt something snap inside.
Kee was doubled over, his shape just barely visible in the darkness. I could go past him now, but that would just mean playing cat and mouse up in the darkness of the laboratories, and that was a game I knew I eventually had to lose. I had to attack.
Trying to ignore the pain in my side, and hoping that the sudden movement wouldn't pierce any of my machinery, I moved around in front of him and clapped my hands over both his ears. He screamed and half rose, which was exactly the position for which I was waiting. He was off balance now, his concentration gone. I grabbed a handful of hair and yanked. Kee plummeted down into the darkness. He came up hard against the steel door, and there was a single, sharp sound. I didn't have to go down to know that Kee was dead, his neck broken.
I tasted blood and I was getting dizzy. I sat down on a step and braced my arm against my broken rib. I stared down into the darkness. Eventually someone would open the door. It would probably be Garth, and he would probably want to know what I was doing sitting naked in the darkness with a dead body.
The Healer
The man waiting for me in my downtown office looked like a movie star who didn't want to be recognized. After he took off his hat, dark glasses and leather overcoat he still looked like a movie star. He also looked like a certain famous Southern senator.
'Dr. Frederickson,' he said, extending a large, sinewy hand. 'I've been doing so much reading about you in the past few days, I feel I already know you. I must say it's a distinct pleasure. I'm Bill Younger.'
'Senator,' I said, shaking the hand and motioning him toward the chair in front of my desk.
Younger, with his boyish, forty-five-year-old face and full head of brown, neatly cut hair, looked good. Except for the fear in his eyes, he might have been ready to step into a television studio. 'Why the background check, Senator?'
He half smiled. 'I used to take my daughter to see you perform when you were with the circus.'
'That was a long time ago, Senator.' It was six years. It seemed a hundred.
The smile faded. 'You're famous. I wanted to see if you were also discreet. My sources tell me your credentials are impeccable. You seem to have a penchant for unusual cases.'
'Unusual cases seem to have a penchant for me. You'd be amazed how few people feel the need for a dwarf private detective.'
Younger didn't seem to be listening. 'You've heard of Esteban Morales?'
I said I hadn't. The senator seemed surprised. 'I was away for the summer,' I added.
The senator nodded absently, then rose and began to pace back and forth in front of the desk. The activity seemed to relax him. 'Esteban is one of my constituents, so I'm quite familiar with his work. He's a healer.'
'A doctor?'
'No, not a doctor. A psychic healer. He heals with his hands. His mind.' He cast a quick look in my direction to gauge my reaction. He must have been satisfied with what he saw because he went on. 'There are a number of good psychic healers in this country. Those who are familiar with this kind of phenomenon consider Esteban the best, although his work does not receive much publicity. There are considerable. . pressures.'
'Why did you assume I'd heard of him?'
'He spent the past summer at the university where you teach. He'd agreed to participate in a research project.'
'What kind of research project?'
'I'm not sure. It was something in microbiology. I think a Dr. Mason was heading the project.'
I nodded. Janet Mason is a friend of mine.
'The project was never finished,' Younger continued. 'Esteban is now in jail awaiting trail for murder.' He added almost parenthetically, 'Your brother was the arresting officer.'
I was beginning to get the notion that it was more than my natural dwarf charm that had attracted Senator Younger. 'Who is this Esteban Morales accused of killing?'
'A physician by the name of Robert Edmonston.'
'Why?'
The senator suddenly stopped pacing and planted his hands firmly on top of my desk. He seemed extremely agitated. 'The papers reported that Edmonston filed a complaint against Esteban. Practicing medicine without a license. The police think Esteban killed him because of it.'
'They'd need more than thoughts to book him.'
'They. . found Esteban in the office with the body. Edmonston had been dead only a few minutes. His throat had been cut with a knife they found dissolving in a vial of acid.' The first words had come hard for Younger. The rest came easier. 'If charges had been filed against Esteban, it wouldn't have been the first time. These are the things Esteban has to put up with. He's always taken the enmity of the medical establishment in stride. Esteban is not a killer-he's a healer. He couldn't kill anyone!' He suddenly straightened up, then slumped into the chair behind him. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'I must seem overwrought.'
'How do you feel I can help you, Senator?'
'You must clear Esteban,' Younger said. His voice was steady but intense. 'Either prove he didn't do it,~or that someone else did.'
I looked at him to see if he might, just possibly, be joking. He wasn't. 'That's a pretty tall order, Senator. And it could get expensive. On the other hand, you've got the whole New York City Police Department set up to do that work for free.'
The senator shook his head. 'I want one man-you-to devote himself to nothing but this case. You work at the university. You have contacts. You may be able to find out something the police couldn't, or didn't care to look for. After all, the police have other things besides Esteban's case to occupy their attention.'
'I wouldn't argue with that.'
