Chapter V

“What makes you think I would do a thing like that?” the little lawyer asked apprehensively, not meeting the bland blue eyes of the man who faced him across the old-fashioned flat-top desk. It was an even more outmoded office than most, but that did not necessarily indicate a low professional status; lawyers were great ones for tradition expressed in terms of out-of-date furniture. As for the dust that lay all over despite the air-conditioning ... well, that was inescapable, for Earth was a dusty planet.

“Oh, not you yourself personally, of course,” Gabriel Lockard--as the false one will continue to be called, since the dutchman had another name at the moment--said. “But you know how to put me in touch with someone who can.”

“Nonsense. I don’t know who gave you such libelous information, sir, but I must ask you to leave my office before I call--”

“It was Pat Ortiz who gave me the information,” Lockard said softly. “He also told me a lot of other interesting things about you, Gorman.”

Gorman paled. “I’m a respectable attorney.”

“Maybe you are now; maybe not. This isn’t the kind of town that breeds respectability. But you certainly weren’t sunny side up when Ortiz knew you. And he knew you well.”

The lawyer licked his lips. “Give me a chance, will you?”

Lockard flushed. “Chance! Everybody rates a chance but me. Can’t you see, I am giving you a chance. Get me somebody to follow my pattern, and I promise you Ortiz won’t talk.”

Gorman slipped the plastic shells from his face and rubbed the pale watery eyes underneath. “But how can I get you a man to do ... the thing you want done? I have no connections like that.”

“I’m sure you can make the right connections. Take your time about it, though; I’m in no hurry. I’m planning to adhere to this locale for a while.”

“How about this man you want ... put out of the way?” Gorman suggested hopefully. “How can you be sure he won’t leave?”

Gabriel laughed. “He’ll stay as long as I do.”

The little lawyer took a deep breath. “Mr. Lockard, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I really cannot do anything for you.”

Gabe rose. “Okay,” he said softly. “If that’s your pattern, I’ll just put a call through to Ortiz.” He turned to go.

“Wait a minute!” the lawyer cried.

Lockard stopped.

“Well?”

Gorman swallowed. “Possibly I may be able to do something for you, after all ... I just happened to have heard Jed Carmody is in town.”

Gabriel looked at him inquiringly.

“Oh ... I thought you might have heard the name. He’s a killer, I understand, a professional exterminator ... on the run right now. But this is his head-quarters--I’m told--and he probably would come here. And he might be short on folio. Naturally, I’ve never had any dealings with him myself.”

“Naturally,” Gabe mocked.

“But I’ll see what I can do.” Gorman’s voice was pleading. “You’ll wait, Mr. Lockard, won’t you? It may be a little while before I can find out where he is. This isn’t--” his voice thinned--”at all my type of pattern, you know.”