was rather a go-between.”
“Then it maybe don’t matter if the Avenger and his stooges grab the guy.”
Heinz sat up. “It occurs to me, Moron, that by now our employers will surely know of our capture.”
“Sure, bad news travels fast.”
Nodding to himself, the fat man continued, “And, being quite efficient, they’ll probably operate on the premise that I did talk.” He chuckled, nodding more. “Yes, that would be very nice.”
“What would?”
“The surprise the Avenger is going to get.”
Dipper Willet eased the hotel room door open. He scrutinized the hallway in all directions, then slipped out and walked rapidly to the back stairs.
Emerging in a night alley behind the hotel, Dipper hurried along it. A shaggy mutt dog was sleeping at its street end, but he only mumbled as Dipper passed.
In five minutes Dipper reached the small Mexican restaurant on one of Manzana’s rundown back streets. The place was dark, a tattered shade pulled down over the glass door. A plaster bull, about the size of that sleeping dog, was hanging on a chain up over the entrance.
Dipper took hold of the doorknob and turned it. The door swung silently inward. He crossed into the dark little café. There were four small booths along the righthand wall. The young man sat down in the third from the door.
“Something to eat?” asked Don Early, who was seated across the table from him.
“I don’t care much for Mexican chow.”
“No, this is a box of sandwiches I bought at a lunch counter uptown.”
“Thanks, no.”
“Job like mine, you never know when you’re going to eat,” said the government agent. “Well?”
“Smitty was back a while ago, very briefly,” said Dipper. “His friend, Benson, and most of the rest of the Justice, Inc., gang arrived today. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“Richard Henry Benson, Fergus MacMurdie, Nellie Gray, and Cole Wilson, yes. I knew.”
“Seems like the opposition knew, too. They tried to blow up Smitty’s car, which resulted in—”
“Know about that. Talked to Sheriff Brown a couple hours ago, running a check on those guys.”
“Smitty seems to think they’re only hired hands.”
“So do I,” said Early, reaching into the white box in front of him and taking out half a sandwich. “Where’s your friend now?”
Dipper shifted on his bench. “I wish you wouldn’t remind me that Smitty’s a good friend of mine. I feel like . . . some kind of Judas, talking to you.”
After taking a bite of his sandwich, Early said, “I’m not trying to entrap Smith, you know. We’re on the same side, far as I know. It’s just that . . . well, I’d like to solve at least one of these damn cases by myself. This one I really thought I could. Sure, I knew about Smitty coming West, but I was certain he didn’t know anything about the Stonebridge Project.”
“I don’t think he does, even now, Early.”
“Maybe not.” He ate the sandwich for a while, chewing thoughtfully. “Look, Willet, there’s no need for you to feel bad. You’re working on a top secret project for the government yourself. And you know how important the Stonebridge setup is. What they’re working on there . . . well, it might help us win the war years sooner. Think of the lives that—”
“You really must feel guilty, Early. I’ve never heard you go in for pep talks before,” said Willet in the dark. “Next thing I know you’ll bring in Kate Smith to sing ‘God Bless America.’ ”
“You’re too cynical, Willet.”
“If I was, I wouldn’t have agreed to keep you informed on the activities of Justice, Inc. I think the Stonebridge Project is important, too. It’s just that I hate to . . . well, forget it.”
Early brought the remains of the sandwich half up near his eyes. “I ordered meat loaf and one egg salad. This isn’t either.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Where’s Smith now?”
“Following up a lead.”
“Okay, but where?”
“I don’t know, out in the desert
“Then it maybe don’t matter if the Avenger and his stooges grab the guy.”
Heinz sat up. “It occurs to me, Moron, that by now our employers will surely know of our capture.”
“Sure, bad news travels fast.”
Nodding to himself, the fat man continued, “And, being quite efficient, they’ll probably operate on the premise that I did talk.” He chuckled, nodding more. “Yes, that would be very nice.”
“What would?”
“The surprise the Avenger is going to get.”
Dipper Willet eased the hotel room door open. He scrutinized the hallway in all directions, then slipped out and walked rapidly to the back stairs.
Emerging in a night alley behind the hotel, Dipper hurried along it. A shaggy mutt dog was sleeping at its street end, but he only mumbled as Dipper passed.
In five minutes Dipper reached the small Mexican restaurant on one of Manzana’s rundown back streets. The place was dark, a tattered shade pulled down over the glass door. A plaster bull, about the size of that sleeping dog, was hanging on a chain up over the entrance.
Dipper took hold of the doorknob and turned it. The door swung silently inward. He crossed into the dark little café. There were four small booths along the righthand wall. The young man sat down in the third from the door.
“Something to eat?” asked Don Early, who was seated across the table from him.
“I don’t care much for Mexican chow.”
“No, this is a box of sandwiches I bought at a lunch counter uptown.”
“Thanks, no.”
“Job like mine, you never know when you’re going to eat,” said the government agent. “Well?”
“Smitty was back a while ago, very briefly,” said Dipper. “His friend, Benson, and most of the rest of the Justice, Inc., gang arrived today. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“Richard Henry Benson, Fergus MacMurdie, Nellie Gray, and Cole Wilson, yes. I knew.”
“Seems like the opposition knew, too. They tried to blow up Smitty’s car, which resulted in—”
“Know about that. Talked to Sheriff Brown a couple hours ago, running a check on those guys.”
“Smitty seems to think they’re only hired hands.”
“So do I,” said Early, reaching into the white box in front of him and taking out half a sandwich. “Where’s your friend now?”
Dipper shifted on his bench. “I wish you wouldn’t remind me that Smitty’s a good friend of mine. I feel like . . . some kind of Judas, talking to you.”
After taking a bite of his sandwich, Early said, “I’m not trying to entrap Smith, you know. We’re on the same side, far as I know. It’s just that . . . well, I’d like to solve at least one of these damn cases by myself. This one I really thought I could. Sure, I knew about Smitty coming West, but I was certain he didn’t know anything about the Stonebridge Project.”
“I don’t think he does, even now, Early.”
“Maybe not.” He ate the sandwich for a while, chewing thoughtfully. “Look, Willet, there’s no need for you to feel bad. You’re working on a top secret project for the government yourself. And you know how important the Stonebridge setup is. What they’re working on there . . . well, it might help us win the war years sooner. Think of the lives that—”
“You really must feel guilty, Early. I’ve never heard you go in for pep talks before,” said Willet in the dark. “Next thing I know you’ll bring in Kate Smith to sing ‘God Bless America.’ ”
“You’re too cynical, Willet.”
“If I was, I wouldn’t have agreed to keep you informed on the activities of Justice, Inc. I think the Stonebridge Project is important, too. It’s just that I hate to . . . well, forget it.”
Early brought the remains of the sandwich half up near his eyes. “I ordered meat loaf and one egg salad. This isn’t either.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Where’s Smith now?”
“Following up a lead.”
“Okay, but where?”
“I don’t know, out in the desert
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