guards, the sea gulls, and the traffic up above on the FDR Drive. "Don'tcha see the off-duty light?"
Dortmunder, pretending not to hear all that yelling in his background, walked on through the ferry building's open middle. Ahead lay the old thick planks of the ferry slip, with the ship alongside and, at the far end, Kelp's head peering into view in the lower right, like the artist's self-portrait in a heroic mural. And coming out of the Pride of Votskojek, as the self-portrait modestly erased itself, was Hradec Kralowc, right on time.
The guards, with growing interest, watched the big mean mountain of a man and the feisty little lady cabdriver yell uncomplimentary things at one another. But then the feisty little lady cabdriver slapped the big mean mountain of a man across the chops, and the mountain responded with a straight right jab that drove the little lady back into the fence with a dang.
"Say," one of the guards said. And the mountain was advancing on the little lady, shoulders bunched.
Tiny had pulled his punch; Murch's Mom had not. "You shouldn't hit,"
Tiny announced. He reared back.
"Hey, stop that! Cut that out!" The two guards deserted their post, rushing to the defense of the little lady.
Dortmunder and Hradec shook hands. Hradec said he was happy Dortmunder could make it; Dortmunder thanked him and said it was his pleasure. Hradec looked upward and declared the weather fine; Dortmunder agreed. Hradec confessed his liking for New York City, after all; Dortmunder allowed as how the old place still had a couple things going for it, if you didn't count its population and government.
In the lower-right periphery of Dortmunder's vision, the self-portrait reappeared. "Why don't we go aboard?" Dortmunder said.
"Fine idea," Hradec agreed, and led the way, saying, "We've prepared some literature for you. Not too much; we didn't want to overburden you."
Tiny held guard A and hit him with guard B.
Kelp clambered up onto the slip, paused to brush off his lab coat--white shows nil the dirt--and scampered forward as Murch steered the little boat away upriver, planning to circle Roosevelt Island just for the hell of it.
Hradec and Dortmunder crowded together into the little elevator and rode up.
Kelp slipped through the open door into the ship, found the stairs where Dortmunder had said they would be, and walked up.
"That's enough foolin around," Tiny decided. Dropping the guards, he turned to Murch's Mom and said, "Take me to Kennedy Airport."
"The airport!" Murch's Mom cried in manic pleasure. "Why didn't you say so? Get aboard!"
Tiny did so, with difficulty--even normal-size people have difficulty getting into the space allotted to the paying guest in New York City taxicabs--and Murch's Mom got behind the wheel, flicking off the off duty sign. While the dazed guards sat up and watched openmouthed, the cab backed around in a half circle and drove away.
"I'm gonna have to throw the flag on you, Tiny," Murch's Mom said.
"Otherwise, I'll get a citation for sure."
"That's okay," Tiny said. "You can just deduct for the smack in the puss you give me."
"Oh, did you feel that?" Murch's Mom asked, sounding surprised.
"I heard it," Tiny told her. "That was bad enough."
Once again, Hradec introduced Dortmunder to Lusk and Ter ment. He nodded to the woman and shook the man's hand, then had an afterthought and shook the woman's hand, then decided to go the whole hog and nodded at the man.
Kelp, following Dortmunder's really excellent maps and directions, moved casually but swiftly down the hall away from the offices where Dortmunder and Hradec's staff were inventing a new folk dance, and opened the correct door for the makeshift lab where the left femur of the martyred St. Ferghana would be found. The real one.
And where, unfortunately for Kelp's devices, the femur was currently undergoing investigation. John Mickelmuss looked up at the interruption, saw someone in a white lab coat, made the natural assumptions,
Dortmunder, pretending not to hear all that yelling in his background, walked on through the ferry building's open middle. Ahead lay the old thick planks of the ferry slip, with the ship alongside and, at the far end, Kelp's head peering into view in the lower right, like the artist's self-portrait in a heroic mural. And coming out of the Pride of Votskojek, as the self-portrait modestly erased itself, was Hradec Kralowc, right on time.
The guards, with growing interest, watched the big mean mountain of a man and the feisty little lady cabdriver yell uncomplimentary things at one another. But then the feisty little lady cabdriver slapped the big mean mountain of a man across the chops, and the mountain responded with a straight right jab that drove the little lady back into the fence with a dang.
"Say," one of the guards said. And the mountain was advancing on the little lady, shoulders bunched.
Tiny had pulled his punch; Murch's Mom had not. "You shouldn't hit,"
Tiny announced. He reared back.
"Hey, stop that! Cut that out!" The two guards deserted their post, rushing to the defense of the little lady.
Dortmunder and Hradec shook hands. Hradec said he was happy Dortmunder could make it; Dortmunder thanked him and said it was his pleasure. Hradec looked upward and declared the weather fine; Dortmunder agreed. Hradec confessed his liking for New York City, after all; Dortmunder allowed as how the old place still had a couple things going for it, if you didn't count its population and government.
In the lower-right periphery of Dortmunder's vision, the self-portrait reappeared. "Why don't we go aboard?" Dortmunder said.
"Fine idea," Hradec agreed, and led the way, saying, "We've prepared some literature for you. Not too much; we didn't want to overburden you."
Tiny held guard A and hit him with guard B.
Kelp clambered up onto the slip, paused to brush off his lab coat--white shows nil the dirt--and scampered forward as Murch steered the little boat away upriver, planning to circle Roosevelt Island just for the hell of it.
Hradec and Dortmunder crowded together into the little elevator and rode up.
Kelp slipped through the open door into the ship, found the stairs where Dortmunder had said they would be, and walked up.
"That's enough foolin around," Tiny decided. Dropping the guards, he turned to Murch's Mom and said, "Take me to Kennedy Airport."
"The airport!" Murch's Mom cried in manic pleasure. "Why didn't you say so? Get aboard!"
Tiny did so, with difficulty--even normal-size people have difficulty getting into the space allotted to the paying guest in New York City taxicabs--and Murch's Mom got behind the wheel, flicking off the off duty sign. While the dazed guards sat up and watched openmouthed, the cab backed around in a half circle and drove away.
"I'm gonna have to throw the flag on you, Tiny," Murch's Mom said.
"Otherwise, I'll get a citation for sure."
"That's okay," Tiny said. "You can just deduct for the smack in the puss you give me."
"Oh, did you feel that?" Murch's Mom asked, sounding surprised.
"I heard it," Tiny told her. "That was bad enough."
Once again, Hradec introduced Dortmunder to Lusk and Ter ment. He nodded to the woman and shook the man's hand, then had an afterthought and shook the woman's hand, then decided to go the whole hog and nodded at the man.
Kelp, following Dortmunder's really excellent maps and directions, moved casually but swiftly down the hall away from the offices where Dortmunder and Hradec's staff were inventing a new folk dance, and opened the correct door for the makeshift lab where the left femur of the martyred St. Ferghana would be found. The real one.
And where, unfortunately for Kelp's devices, the femur was currently undergoing investigation. John Mickelmuss looked up at the interruption, saw someone in a white lab coat, made the natural assumptions,
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