They were unloading Heller's bags in the parking lot. Heller tried to help them but Izzy and Bang-Bang pushed him aside and struggled manfully with the big cases.
I got disoriented. I was so used to going in and out of JFK that I didn't know where they were until I spotted a sign, La Guardia. Ah, domestic flights, of course.
They got up to a line waiting at a counter. Izzy handed Heller a ticket. Heller looked at it. "Hey, what's this? Pretty Boy Floyd?"
"Bang-Bang said that was your travelling name," said Izzy. "And listen, you're not connected to any of those corporations we have there. The contractors think your name is Floyd, too. And I advise you to use war paint on your face so if the Indians jump you, they'll think you're one of them."
"Brilliant thinking, Izzy," said Heller. "I'll do just that. Now listen, I don't think there's much in the way of telephones down at Ochokeechokee and I may be out in the swamp mostly. So if you call and an alligator answers, hang up."
"Why?" said Izzy.
"Why?" echoed Heller. "I should think that would be obvious. You might put all the alligators on my trail, too!"
Izzy looked puzzled.
Bang-Bang said, "Izzy, it's a joke. You know, J-O-K-E, joke, as in oy."
"It's no joke going amongst alligators and Indians,"
said Izzy. "You be careful, Mr. Jet. I'm still responsible for you."
I had a sudden thought. Raht, the idiot, would lose his man for sure. I buzzed hastily on the radio.
"Yes?" said Raht and there was a howl of wind in the microphone.
"Listen, he's travelling under the name of Pretty Boy Floyd and he'll be wearing war paint."
"You almost knocked me off this antenna."
"Don't you fall off and break those relayers!" I snarled at him.
"Wait, listen. I don't have your address, really. Can you talk me in?"
"You can't soar from there to here!" I snapped. What an idiot. What did he think he was using? A space-trooper sled? I gave him the address.
I looked back at the viewers. As you could expect, Heller and Krak were off to the side waiting for the plane, and she was crying. Women are always crying when people leave and when people get married. I can understand crying when getting married: that's an awful tragedy. But not just getting on a plane.
"I feel too bad even to be cross with you about those women," she was saying.
"Women?"
"That protest at the United Nations. The ones carrying your picture with 'Pretty Boy' on it. You use that name on tickets."
"Oh, honey, I can explain...."
"No, no. You don't have to. I love you, Jettero. You're my man and I love you. And I'm being an idiot to stay behind and not go to Florida with you. But I've got to do all I can to speed things up and help us get home. And then we can get married and live happily
ever after in some civilized place. There's a nice surprise waiting for us both when we get home. I promised I wouldn't tell you and I won't. But hurry and finish up this mission, Jettero. And I'll do all I can."
"You sit quietly and wait for me," said Heller.
"They're calling your plane," said the Countess Krak.
She kissed him and cried some more.
Then he was gone.
They saw the plane off from the observation platform and went back to the cab. She was still crying.
Oh, there was no doubt at all left in my mind that she had to be killed. Pushing him, pushing him, egging him on. And all to connect up with Royal proclamations that were forgeries. But that was not the surprise they were going to get.
The Countess Krak would be dead before Heller ever saw her again!
Chapter 6
About half an hour after Candy and Miss Pinch had departed for work, Raht showed up. I let him in. He handed me two sets of units, Crobe's and Krak's: they were all scummed up with soot from their long tenure in the weather; I found a rag and started to clean them up.
Raht wandered around the apartment, staring at the clam shells and phallic symbols and sea foam. "Who lives here?" he said. "Some whore?"
I was certainly sick of his insolence. "If you did