Black Genesis

  "No."

  "Alfa Romeo?"

  "No."

  "Maserati. Now, there's a good car. A real good car," said Vantagio. "I can get one custom built. Custom built and bright red, kid. A convertible. I'll fill it full of girls."

  "No," said Heller.

  "Oh, che il diavolo lo porti, kid, you're going to get me killed! I wouldn't even dare put that in this garage! It's just an ancient wreck!"

  "It's an antique!" cried Mortie. "It ain't no wreck! It's a bona fide antique!"

  Vantagio stared at him. Then he went on pacing.

  Mortie pressed on. "You put that cab in the Atlantic City Antique Auto Parade and it'll win a twenty-five thousand dollar prize. I guarantee it! Antique cars are the rage!"

  Vantagio stopped pacing. "Wait. I've just had an idea. If we put that car in the Atlantic City Antique Auto Parade..."

  "And filled it full of girls dressed in costumes of the 1920s," prompted Heller.

  "And put guys on the running boards holding sub­machine guns," said Vantagio.

  "And prohibition agents in 1920 costumes chasing it," said Heller.

  "And painted 'The Corleone Cab Company' on the doors," cried Vantagio, "Babe would LOVE it! Tradi­tion! And a million bucks' worth of advertising! Right?"

  "Right," said Heller.

  "Now, you have to do what I tell you, kid. Right?"

  "Right."

  "Choose this as the car."

  "Like I was saying," said Mortie. "The price is one thousand smackers."

  "Five hundred," said Vantagio, "providing you can get it to this address. And I'll buy its cab license later

  from your company." He was scribbling on the back of a card, Jiffy-Spiffy Garage, Mike Mutazione, Newark, N.J.

  "Can I drive it and monkey with the motor?" said Heller.

  "Oh, hell, yes, kid. It's your car. Just so long as you make it available for the parade and just as long as you let Mike Mutazione put it in new-car condition before you park it in here. You see, I can tell people it's for the parade and the UN diplomats will be happy on cultural grounds. They love to see tribal customs pre­served."

  A new voice was heard. "Hey, where'd this battle cas­ualty come from?" It was Bang-Bang.

  "That's the car you're going to drive," said Heller.

  "Don't try to snow me under, kid," said Bang-Bang. "I've had a tough day trying to teach the Army the dif­ference between their left feet and their (bleep)."

  "Look, Bang-Bang," said Heller, pointing to a star in the glass.

  "Hey, that's a 7.62-mm NATO round. See, it dropped down into the ledge outside. Belgian FN? Ital­ian Beretta? Flattened the hell out of it. Bulletproof glass!"

  "And fenders. Quarter-inch steel," said Heller.

  Vantagio tapped Bang-Bang. "As long as you're work­ing for the kid, go over to Newark with this cabby and tell Mike what to do. Use the same material but replace everything! New bulletproof glass, new upholstery, beat the body out, paint the whole car orange and put 'The Corleone Cab Company' on the doors. Make it all look brand-new. Even the motor. Tell him to do it in a hurry so the kid can have his car."

  "I ain't supposed to leave New York," said Bang-Bang.

  "It's Saturday night," said Vantagio.

  "Oh, that's right," said Bang-Bang.

  "I'll go, too!" said Heller.

  "No, you won't," said Vantagio. "It's going to be a busy night and I want you in the lobby for a while. And I told two South American diplomats you'd be pleased to meet them. And there's something else you got to do."

  Vantagio was signing papers that Mortie had been holding out. He counted five hundred into his palm.

  Mortie and Bang-Bang jumped into the cab and with a roar, smoke and clatter were gone.

  Vantagio and Heller got back into the elevator. "Now we got to go up," said Vantagio, "and phone Babe and tell her what a great idea I had. No, on the other hand, you phone her from your suite and tell her you thought it up. Tradition is the key to her character, kid. And when you mix tradition and sentiment, it's a winner every time. Old 'Holy Joe' got his start running hooch in cabs just like that!"

  "You're a wonder," said Heller.

  "Yes, you do what I tell you and you'll be in the money every time. Just remember that, kid."

  I was baffled, utterly baffled. What was Heller doing with two cars? He already had that old Cadillac being specially rebuilt and didn't seem to be in any rush for it, yet here was this cab being rushed through. For once, some sixth sense—which you can't do without in the Apparatus—told me that this went beyond the Fleet toy fetish. I writhed. (Bleep) him, he was going too fast! Too fast! He could finish up and accomplish something and ruin me!

  Chapter 4

  Because I knew that on Sunday, coming right up, he was going to have his first Nature Appreciation class with Miss Simmons—who, I was sure, would do him in— I was not terribly interested in what happened to Heller the rest of that Saturday night and scanned him only lightly.

  The two South American diplomats were completely unimportant. Vantagio brought them over to Heller and introduced them—they had names about a yard long. Hel­ler was wearing a silk and mohair tuxedo with diamond cuff links and studs but these two South Americans put him to shame with black embroidery on their powder blue tuxedos and lace all over their chests: it heartened me to see Heller outdone.

  They had an International Bank loan to build a lot of bridges and they'd heard Heller was a student engi­neer and they didn't think the bridges would stand up. So they showed him some drawings and he told them to float both ends of the bridges so the earthquakes couldn't affect them. He even drew them some little sketches to show their contracting firm. But I knew it was all silly—a bridge crosses water, you don't stick its ends in the water. But South Americans are polite and they went away beaming. Riffraff.

  The only other thing that happened was also disgust­ing. Stuffumo and the kris-wielding deputy delegate that Heller had unfairly disarmed sought him out where he

  sat behind some palm fronds—he sat there often as it half hid him from the door.

  They had an ornate box and they were both holding on to it. Both speaking English in chorus, they stood in front of him and said, "Thank you for your mediation on the treaty subject of Harlotta. Our two countries have united to give you a token of appreciation. There has never been such peace."

  They opened up the box and there, in purple velvet, lay a Llama .45 caliber, large-frame automatic pistol fin­ished in gold damascene and gold butt plates, with the coats of arms of their two countries intertwined with a heart. Some engraver had been working overtime at vast expense! It had extra magazines and fifty shells. It also had a back belt holster with a white dove of peace and Prince X engraved on it. Aside from the fact that it was all chased with gold instead of being black, it looked just like a gangster gun, an Army Colt .45.

  Heller thanked them and they went away beaming.

  It absolutely ruined my dawn sleep! The idea of get­ting a beautiful weapon like that for some petty, trifling, cheap trick! And he had obtained it unfairly, too! Mas­querading under a false identity. "Prince X" indeed! He was just a Fleet combat engineer with middle-class ori­gins like mine. I even outranked him! What an awful waste of a fine handgun!

  So, as I say, I was really looking forward to Miss Sim­mons!

  Around nine in the morning, New York time, the interference went off in his suite. But was he bustling out to go to his Sunday class? No! He was certainly taking a perverted angle on Nature Appreciation!

  The first thing that came on the screen was the back of a girl's neck. She was a brunette and she was evidently

  lying face down on the sofa, head to one side, arm trail­ing limply to the rug, the very picture of exhaustion.

  Heller was stroking the back of her neck, sort of work­ing at it with his thumbs. There was a silver pitcher on a nearby table and, in peripheral vision, I could see that he was wearing a white bathrobe and sitting on the edge of the couch ab
ove the half-naked girl.

  "Oh," she was groaning, "I think I'm going to die!"

  Heller was working at the back of her neck with his thumbs. "There, there," he said soothingly. "You'll be all right, Myrtle."

  She groaned again. "Seventeen times is too many!"

  "Can you lift your head now?" said Heller.

  She tried and groaned. "I feel like I've been raped by an elephant."

  "I'm sorry," said Heller.

  Suddenly I understood. This monster had really been abusing this poor girl! And she was a pretty girl, too, as I could see, now that she had turned on her side.

  "It is better, honey," she said. "Jesus, I don't want another night like that!"

  Aha, so he was not as popular with these girls as I had thought!

  She got up unsteadily, got hold of her robe as an after­thought and half-heartedly covered her nakedness.

  "You go get a bath," said Heller, "and a nice sleep and you'll be fine."

  "Oh, Jesus, I hope so. Can I come back later?"

  My Gods, I thought. He has effected a transference on this poor girl! Enslaved her into chronic masochism!

  "I've got a Nature Appreciation class at one," said Heller.

  "I've had all the nature I can appreciate for the moment," said Myrtle and stumbled, barefooted and half-clad from his room. The poor, abused creature.

  Heller called down for some breakfast and while he was waiting, got on the phone. No wonder I couldn't keep track of him. He was transacting business under the cover of the interference. Sneaky!

  A kid came on.

  "Let me talk to Mike Mutazione," said Heller. And when the kid had put "papa" on the line, Heller said, "Sorry to bite into your Sunday, Mike. But did you get the cab?"

  "Sure thing, kid. A beauty! Fix her up in no time!"

  "Great. Now listen, Mike. I am sending you over a little bottle of stuff. I'll write the full directions. But I want you to put it in the paint as an additive. That's on the exterior body and in any of the signs you paint on it. It is easy. It just mixes into whatever paint you use. So when you get the motor and glass and body and uphol­stery work done, only use paint with this additive in it."

  "Makes it shinier?" said Mike.

  "Something like that," said Heller. "I'll send the lit­tle vial over. It'll be there by the time you're ready."

  "Sure, kid, no trouble. The Caddy is doing fine. Bit of a holdup with the new engine but it's on its way. So are the new alloy pistons. She'll do 190 when we're done." Mike laughed. "You'll have to keep the brakes on to keep her from taking off for the moon."

  "Take your time on it," said Heller. "The cab I'd like yesterday."

  "You'll get it, kid. Want to come over and go to Mass with us?"

  "Today is my day for Nature Appreciation. Thanks just the same, Mike. Ciao."

  Mass? These (bleeped) Sicilians would be converting him to Christianity next!

  His breakfast came, starting with a huge chocolate

  sundae. The waiter had no more than gone out the door when a gorgeous, slinky blonde came in.

  "Hiya, Semantha," said Heller. "Have some break­fast?"

  She shook her head and sat down in a nearby chair. She indicated the door. "Myrtle was just in here, wasn't she? Pretty boy, you've got to watch that Myrtle."

  Heller laughed.

  "No, seriously, pretty boy. You've got to watch her. She's full of wiles and tricks. I know her. Now, look, when she came in, did she do this?" Semantha loosened her robe. She didn't have anything on under it! Was this Heller's idea of nature appreciation?

  She drew her legs to Heller's right. "And then did she sit sideways like this?" She made sure no robe was covering her legs. "And then did she show you her naked thigh like this? And then trail her fingers along it and say that it was bruised and please look?

  "Oh, you have to watch that Myrtle, pretty boy. After she'd done all that, did she stand up like this and let her robe fall off like so?

  "And then did she say she had an ache in her left breast? And, typically Myrtle, hold it up like this and ask you to see if there was a bruise there?

  "And then did she walk real close like this and ask you to really examine it to be sure?"

  Heller was laughing. "Watch it, you'll get ice cream on you!"

  "And then," said Semantha, "did she sort of walk around like this? Oh, you've got to watch her! And pick up her robe like this? And pretend she'd just noticed she was naked, like this, and trail her robe behind her like this and go into your bedroom, looking back at you like this? You watch that Myrtle, pretty boy!"

  "The bed isn't made," said Heller.

  He could see what she was doing now from the multi­ple reflecting mirrors in the bedroom. "Then," contin­ued Semantha, "did she poke at your bed like this? And then wonder if it was softer than hers and could she please get in it like this?"

  Semantha had gotten in, but not under the covers. She was stretched out stark naked on the bed, legs apart. "And then did she stroke her body like this? Did she, pretty boy? She takes some watching, that Myrtle does! And then did she raise her arms toward you like this and move her hips around like that and tell you that she was feeling sort of empty and needed..."

  "Semantha," said Heller. "Get out of that bed and come in here."

  "Oh, pretty boy," she pouted. "You're going to make me stand up and hold that position while you..."

  The interference came on. Well, I didn't need to see any more. It was obvious that he was one of those weirdos that liked odd positions.

  Why the Hells couldn't that (bleeped) taxi driver rush up Utanc? I went out petulantly to call him. He didn't know what he was putting me through. I tried for quite a while and couldn't get him. I kicked around the yard and then had dinner.

  Actually, I was outraged at Heller's idea of preparing himself for a Nature Appreciation class. How he could go from his dark den of vice into the bright sunlit world without his conscience withering, I did not know. He was not fit to associate with the dear little children and the charming Miss Simmons in their coming outing. But I knew I could count on Miss Simmons! Heller would catch it! A firm character, Miss Simmons!

  Chapter 5

  The first Nature Appreciation class was apparently being held in the United Nations park between 42nd Street and 48th Street and bordering the East River-just a few blocks from where Heller lived.

  It was a beautiful September afternoon: the grass and trees were green and the sky and water were blue. The enormous bulk of the Secretariat Building reared its white slab behind the General Assembly Building and the Conference Building.

  Some of the class had already gathered, as scheduled, in front of the Statue of Peace. They were college kids, mostly in jeans and rough clothing; some wore glasses, some did not; some were fat and some were thin. Heller looked them over. None of them were talking to one another or to him: obviously, they were all mutual stran­gers.

  Heller was wearing, I knew from the elevator mir­rors, very tailored brushed jeans, his baseball cap and spikes. He must look,a bit out of place—neater and more expensively dressed aside from those two items, cap and shoes. He was also taller than the rest. And he carried a little brushed denim haversack while the rest had satch­els or just big purses. It must make him stand out for an occasional eye flicked in his direction, especially the girls.

  More class drifted up and now there were about thirty.

  And here came Miss Simmons! She was marching with a purpose! She was wearing heavy hiking shoes

  and, despite the heat of the day, a heavy tweed skirt and jacket. She was carrying a walking stick that looked more like a club. Her brown hair was tightly swept back and imprisoned under a man's shooting hat.

  She came to a halt. She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up on her forehead so she could see them. She looked them all over. When she came to Heller, she let go of the glasses and let them fall back on her nose. Ah, this was a good sign. I had confidence in Miss Simmons. If all else failed, this was the one
who would stop Heller cold! And her opening words encouraged me greatly!

  "Oh, there you are, Wister," she said in front of the whole class. "How is the young Einstein today? Suffer­ing from a swelled head? I hear you used more INFLU­ENCE yesterday to get out of further tutoring. Well, have no fear, you are not through the barbed wire yet, Wister. The war you so ferociously favor is barely begun!"

  She raised her glasses again so she could see the class and proceeded to address them. "Good afternoon, tomorrow's hope. I always start our Nature Appreciation itinerary here at the United Nations park. The United Nations was founded in 1945 to prevent the further esca­lation of WAR and atomic war in particular. This hope was then entombed here in these great white mausoleums.

  "It is of historical significance that this part of Man­hattan was once an area covered with slaughterhouses. It is a very apt and fitting fact.

  "The UN, this dark grave of all man's greatest hopes, has money, authority and POWER! Yet, I must call to your attention that, despite that, these greedy, self-seeking and egotistical MEN sit in these tombs all day every day, all year every year and do nothing but plot ways and means of avoiding their true duties, duties to which they were pledged by the most sacred vows!

  "If these craven, base scoundrels had their way, they

  would blow up the whole world with thermonuclear fis­sion and fusion! Wister, pay attention." She lowered her glasses and scowled at him.

  She raised her glasses and addressed the rest. "So, class, we start with a could-have-been, the United Nations. Everything you see alive throughout this course will soon be dead forever— destroyed by the vicious idle­ness, the indecision, the behind-the-scenes plotting and downright craven cowardice of the UN. Wister, what are you looking at?"

  Heller said, "This grass is standing up pretty good despite the foot traffic. If they didn't water it with chlo­rinated water, it would do better."

  "Pay attention, Wister," said Miss Simmons, se­verely. "This is a class in nature appreciation, not the use of poison gas! Now, class, and I hope you are taking notes of the important data I am giving you. Do you see that group of men there? I want to call your attention to the smug, maddeningly blithe expressions on the faces of those UN people stalking about the park."