Little Norman was six foot four without his hand-tooled Mexican cowboy boots, and must have weighed in at two-fifty without the two rolls of quarters he always had in his pockets. As if those fists needed the extra weight.
And Little Norman was no longer young. He had to be at least fifty-five and semiretired, so that wasn't it either.
"What brings you to Caesar's Palace, Little Norman?" he said. "I thought you hung around at the Sands."
"Nice sunny day out," said Little Norman. "Good day to get a tan." Little Norman was wearing his usual tailor-made suit and stiff-collared white shirt with pearl studs. Little Norman was also blacker than the bottom of a coal mine.
"You're right there. Been getting some myself, and doing a little swimming."
"That's good, kid. That's what you need for those thumps you got on you.
A little sunshine, a little exercise, a lot of rest." He said it again, "A lot of rest."
He just nodded and let Little Norman go on.
"For excitement there's always the tables. You don't have to do anything spectacular to keep your blood circulating, you know what I mean, kid?"
"Sure I do, Norman ." He smiled. Then he said, "I'm not working. Nobody works in Las Vegas, you know that."
Little Norman ’s long face broke into a broad grin. "That's real sensible, kid. Coming in here with a face like that, people wonder. I'm not asking where you got it, you understand. But people do wonder where you got it and whether you're maybe a little mad about it."
"If you see anybody like that, will you do me a favor?"
"Sure, kid, if I see anybody like that."
"Tell them I'm not working."
"I'll do that."
"Thanks, Little Norman . I wouldn't want anybody worrying about my health."
Little Norman stood up, straightened his tie, and said, "If you've got some 51
time on your hands you might stop by for a drink. You know where to find me, don't you?"
"Sure," he said.
"I'll see you, then."
He watched Little Norman's huge back moving along the edge of the pool toward the entrance near the casino. It hadn't taken long, he thought. He reached in the pocket of his robe and pulled out his watch. Four hours. He'd been in Las Vegas less than four hours before someone had noticed him and told Little Norman. But at least Little Norman seemed to be satisfied. For the next hour he'd be scurrying all over town telling rich, powerful old men that there was nothing to worry about this time. Their deaths hadn't been purchased yet. It really was a vacation. And the uneasy truce would hold until the next thing came up. He should have looked up Little Norman right away, he thought, and made sure the word got out before any of them got nervous. It was the polite thing to do.
10
In his room he closed the door, bolted and chained it, then took off his robe and walked into the shower. Little Norman worried him because it hadn't occurred to him that the way he looked would cause them alarm. It was never a good thing to come to the attention of any of the dozen nervous old men who lived in the fragile sanctuary of the open city. Each of them had survived to his present vicious senility through predatory cunning and the instinctive preference for striking first. And they wouldn't forget that. No matter if you were eighty-three years old and propped like a sack of rags in a wheelchair like Castiglione, you would remember that much.
As long as Little Norman did what the old men paid him for, it would be fine. And there was no reason to think he wouldn't. But now a slight trickle of fear had begun to mix itself into his bloodstream. It wasn't enough to spoil the pleasure of being safe and comfortable in Caesar's, but it was there. He decided that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go have that drink with Little Norman. He had told him he was on vacation, and now he'd damn well better act like it. Besides, he was on vacation. At least until Friday night.
When he woke up the room was dark and he could hear the voice of a
And Little Norman was no longer young. He had to be at least fifty-five and semiretired, so that wasn't it either.
"What brings you to Caesar's Palace, Little Norman?" he said. "I thought you hung around at the Sands."
"Nice sunny day out," said Little Norman. "Good day to get a tan." Little Norman was wearing his usual tailor-made suit and stiff-collared white shirt with pearl studs. Little Norman was also blacker than the bottom of a coal mine.
"You're right there. Been getting some myself, and doing a little swimming."
"That's good, kid. That's what you need for those thumps you got on you.
A little sunshine, a little exercise, a lot of rest." He said it again, "A lot of rest."
He just nodded and let Little Norman go on.
"For excitement there's always the tables. You don't have to do anything spectacular to keep your blood circulating, you know what I mean, kid?"
"Sure I do, Norman ." He smiled. Then he said, "I'm not working. Nobody works in Las Vegas, you know that."
Little Norman ’s long face broke into a broad grin. "That's real sensible, kid. Coming in here with a face like that, people wonder. I'm not asking where you got it, you understand. But people do wonder where you got it and whether you're maybe a little mad about it."
"If you see anybody like that, will you do me a favor?"
"Sure, kid, if I see anybody like that."
"Tell them I'm not working."
"I'll do that."
"Thanks, Little Norman . I wouldn't want anybody worrying about my health."
Little Norman stood up, straightened his tie, and said, "If you've got some 51
time on your hands you might stop by for a drink. You know where to find me, don't you?"
"Sure," he said.
"I'll see you, then."
He watched Little Norman's huge back moving along the edge of the pool toward the entrance near the casino. It hadn't taken long, he thought. He reached in the pocket of his robe and pulled out his watch. Four hours. He'd been in Las Vegas less than four hours before someone had noticed him and told Little Norman. But at least Little Norman seemed to be satisfied. For the next hour he'd be scurrying all over town telling rich, powerful old men that there was nothing to worry about this time. Their deaths hadn't been purchased yet. It really was a vacation. And the uneasy truce would hold until the next thing came up. He should have looked up Little Norman right away, he thought, and made sure the word got out before any of them got nervous. It was the polite thing to do.
10
In his room he closed the door, bolted and chained it, then took off his robe and walked into the shower. Little Norman worried him because it hadn't occurred to him that the way he looked would cause them alarm. It was never a good thing to come to the attention of any of the dozen nervous old men who lived in the fragile sanctuary of the open city. Each of them had survived to his present vicious senility through predatory cunning and the instinctive preference for striking first. And they wouldn't forget that. No matter if you were eighty-three years old and propped like a sack of rags in a wheelchair like Castiglione, you would remember that much.
As long as Little Norman did what the old men paid him for, it would be fine. And there was no reason to think he wouldn't. But now a slight trickle of fear had begun to mix itself into his bloodstream. It wasn't enough to spoil the pleasure of being safe and comfortable in Caesar's, but it was there. He decided that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go have that drink with Little Norman. He had told him he was on vacation, and now he'd damn well better act like it. Besides, he was on vacation. At least until Friday night.
When he woke up the room was dark and he could hear the voice of a
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