A Key to the Suite

Two

Fred Frick, Assistant District Supervisor, arrived at the Sultana at ten A.M., accompanied by one of the road men, a mild round swarthy young man named Fayhouser. Frick was in his early forties, a lean sandy jittery man with pale restless blue eyes, a sharp, high-pitched voice, a rather ugly and feral mouth full of oversized yellowed teeth. He always gave the impression of being too sharply dressed, too dapper, yet taken item by item his clothing was always in good conservative taste. There was something about the shape of him and his manner which gave the casual observer the impression that his underwear, at least, had to be of lavender silk to match concealed sleeve garters.

They walked to the Sultana from a large parking lot a block and a half away. Frick stopped and looked at the big banner just being fastened in place. “Welcome to the Joint Convention of COLUDA and NAPATAN.”

“Pair of belly dancers,” Fayhouser said.

Frick turned and fixed Fayhouser with a cold glare. “Bobby, that kind of crap is okay between you and me because I know your attitude is generally good. But don’t you start making any smart cracks in front of the wrong people.”

“Sure, Fred,” Fayhouser said uneasily.

“There’s a lot of guys, and we work for some of them, take the National Association maybe a little more serious than they do their daughter’s virginity, and you come out with any cute remarks, they mark you some kind of a Communist. This is your first convention, and about the whole thing, Bobby, your attitude is you got to be eager and reverent.”

“All right, Fred. I didn’t mean anything.”

“Let’s get some coffee and get organized.”

They went into the hotel and down to the lower level, past the shops of furs and jewels to the Persian Grill and sat in the swivel armchairs at the low counter.

Frick opened a small leather notebook and uncapped a gold pen.

“About the Hospitality Suite, Bobby, I am going to go over it one more time with you. I am in charge of all the arrangements for our team, and you are my deputy in charge of the suite. You know the other road men you’re going to have to work with. You keep them in line. Every man comes into the AGM suite, he gets a drink in his hand fast. You and the other boys can drink, but keep them weak. A mild buzz is okay, but nothing more. You all keep smiling. You introduce everybody to everybody, and you do more listening than talking, and you laugh at the jokes.”

“Eager and reverent,” Fayhouser said.

Frick looked at him narrowly. “Exactly. Keep the opened bottles out and the full ones in a bedroom closet. Spread cigarettes around. Keep the ashtrays clean. What’ll be a help, line up one bellhop and hit him pretty good to start, with a promise of more at the end if he takes care of you, which means checking all the time without being called to make sure we got ice and mix and so on. Do the same with a maid on eight, so she can come and hoe the place out whenever it isn’t busy.”

“Right!”

“You’re getting a hell of a break, Bobby, because this way you get to meet AGM brass that wouldn’t know you’re alive otherwise. I’ll be around a lot of the time, of course, but there can be special problems you got to watch. One is, of course, any of the boys we picked for this job getting out of line in any way. It could hurt me and it could hurt you. Once in Atlanta, at a NAPATAN regional convention, one of Federal’s road men helping out in the suite goosed the wife of the executive vice-president down from New York. Federal cleaned out that whole regional organization.”

“No goosing. Got ya!”

“Dammit, Bobby, if you’re not going to take this seriously...”

“I’m taking it seriously, honest, Fred.”

Frick sighed. “Okay. What I was saying, if one of our boys gets plotzed, we run him off the team fast before any damage is done. Another problem, the guy who has hit too many suites and is a drunk nuisance by the time he gets to ours. Check the badge. If he’s brass, all you can do is handle it the best way you know how. Maybe he’s a lousy road man from some other outfit. Then move him out, firm and fast. Send him along. Tell him they got broads at the Federal suite, or at United. Let the competition worry about him. Which brings up a new problem. Broads. I got a bedroom set aside for you boys working the suite, and there’s no real need for more than two of us to be in the suite at the same time. If you get something lined up, okay. So long as you handle it with good taste. Don’t bring broads into the suite. And don’t let anybody get so carried away, he can’t take his turn in the suite. This is a case of just using horse sense.”

“I understand.”

Frick studied his notebook intently for a few moments, then put it back in his pocket. “Now you go check when we can get the suite, and I’ll go see how Tommy’s coming with the exhibit.”

The Sultana had been planned and constructed as a resort-convention hotel, and the huge convention hall was a separate structure, joined to it by an umbilical corridor eighty feet wide and over two hundred feet long. This corridor was adjacent to the Arabian Room, the main dining room of the hotel. When no convention was in progress, or when the convention hall was being used as a sports arena, the corridor could be blocked off by an intricate accordion-door system. When a convention was in progress, the corridor formed an ideal place for exhibits. The lighting, electric outlets, floor covering — had all been planned with this use in mind.

Most of the exhibits were up, and a hundred people were adding the finishing touches. Many of them had a look of total exhaustion. The deadline for removal of the APETOD exhibits had been ten o’clock the previous evening, and many of the people had worked straight through.

Fred Frick walked swiftly through the noises and confusions to the AGM exhibit. Tommy Carmer was opening cartons of color press literature and stacking them on a narrow table just inside the blue velvet rope. A pair of pretty twin blondes in tight plaid pants and sheer blouses watched him with a marked lack of interest. A man in coveralls was sitting on the floor working on a small electric motor. Carmer was a sallow man with a hollow chest, a great naked dome of forehead, and very little chin.

“How’s it look to you, Freddy?”

“Goddam, it looks great! For once we don’t get stuck over in a corner someplace. What’s he doing?”

“Oh, that’s the motor that makes the parts move in the big cutaway display. It quit a minute after I turned it on.”

“Can he fix it?”

“He says so.”

Frick turned toward the blondes. “How are you today, girls? Ready to go?”

One shrugged. The other one said listlessly, “Any time.” They had show girl figures rather than model figures. They looked sulky and bored.

“Which is Honey and which is Bunny?” Frick asked.

“I’m Honey, with the mole,” one of them said, and touched her cheek.

“You going to dog it, girls, or you going to give it the paz-zazz?”

“You’ll get what you’re paying for,” Bunny said. “You got any beef, you call the agency, okay?”

“Let’s hear the spiel, girls.”

They shrugged simultaneously, moved into position. The sudden change in them was electrifying. They became alert, vivacious, with sparkling eyes, big media smiles, arched backs and thrust breasts. They took the alternate lines of the demonstration talk they had learned, and came in on the punch line in unison. Then they immediately lapsed back into sullen boredom.

“That’s great!” Frick cried. “It’s exciting!”

“You pay for pros, you get pros,” Bunny said.

“They all clear on the questions and answers, Tommy?” Frick asked.

“Check them if you want.”

He asked them the questions usually asked about AGM products and installations, and got the right answers. He threw them one he knew was beyond them, and got the proper referral to “our Mr. Carmer.”

“Yeah, Tommy, this ties in perfect with the promotion. Girls, you know the hours you’re going to work. You take your orders from Tommy. And I don’t want you spelling each other. You’re either both here or both gone. One of you has to go to the can, you both go. No drinking, and no dating the guys that’ll sure as hell make a try.”

“Any time we can’t brush off a bunch of crummy convention...”

“Okay. Now what’ll you wear? I want to see plenty of ba-zoom, kids.”

“You’ll see more than you can handle, pops,” Honey said.

“That’s all set,” Tommy said.

“And don’t you kids be standing around like you are right now, looking like you hated the whole deal.”

“When we’re on, we’ll be on, friend,” Bunny said. “You’ll have no complaint.”

Bobby Fayhouser came up behind Frick and said, “Fred, can I see you a minute?”

“You girls be back here at two o’clock sharp, ready to go,” Frick said. They nodded and walked away, side by side, in perfect unison. Frick watched the synchronous clench and roll and swing of the plaid fannies and shook his head wonderingly and said, “Like seeing double, huh? Tommy, maybe there’s our little celebration when this damn thing is over.”

“I doubt the hell out of that,” Carmer said. “That Honey one has a two-year-old kid and is married to a musician, and the other one has a county cop for a boyfriend. That’ll be okay on this job, Freddy, but the reason they’re a little sour, it’s on account of they’ve been singing and dancing since they were three years old, and now they’re twenty-three, and I guess they think they should have made it a little better than being in a convention display.”

“It might be important, what I want to tell you, Fred,” Fayhouser said.

Frick moved off to one side with the younger man. “A delay on the suite?” he asked.

“You were worried about a man named Hubbard coming? Floyd Hubbard? And you asked me to tell you right away if...”

“Is he coming?”

“He’s already here. He’s in 847. He checked in before seven o’clock this morning.”

Frick looked beyond Fayhouser, looked toward the huge shadowy cave of the convention hall beyond the display ramp, and exposed his unlikely teeth in a mirthless grin. “Well, well, well! So he made it.”

“What’s the bit on him anyhow, Fred? I know you put him on the AGM list, but you seemed nervous about him. Is there anything I should know?”

Frick stared at Fayhouser with an odd indignant contempt. “You? What should you know about him? He’s home-office brass, isn’t he? So you treat him like home-office brass. What does a kid like you have to worry about? They test all of you these days, don’t they? Your marks are on file in some goddam computer, aren’t they? You got papers like a pedigree dog.”

“But...”

“Don’t stand too close to this Hubbard, or you’ll hear all the little relays clicking and it might make you nervous.”

“Why get sore at me?”

“I’m not sore at you, Bobby. When do we get the suite?”

“Noon at the latest.”

“So go do something useful.”

Bobby Fayhouser walked away. He glanced back once and then quickened his pace. Frick walked slowly toward the main lobby, glancing at the exhibits. He phoned 847 from the lobby and was told there was no answer — which could mean that Hubbard was out or was blocking all incoming calls.

It was eleven o’clock, too late to get in touch with Jesse Mulaney and tip him off about Hubbard. Maybe Jesse knew it anyway. But, as the local representative, the man on the scene, it was his job to keep Mulaney advised. A rich territory, but he wished to God this convention was somewhere else this time, not in his back yard. Poor Jesse, too old-time for the new hot shots.

He walked out a side door and down an outside staircase to the pool area. The sun blazed down on the ranked battalions of sun cots, more than half of them occupied. By the cabanas the people who paid the fee for more privacy were sunning themselves. He walked to the thatched bar, sat on a shady stool, ordered a Screwdriver and felt his morale improve as he watched the bartender slice the fresh oranges. After his first deep swallow of the drink, he looked through an opening of the bamboo framework around the bar and watched a hard-faced blonde with a lithe youthful body oil herself with most tender care, then stretch out and become another anonymous sun-stricken corpse amid the acres of browning, gleaming flesh.

Jesse, he decided, would have some operational plan. He wouldn’t tattoo a dotted line on his throat and then kneel down to make it handier for this Hubbard. Where it puts me, he thought, is right the hell in the middle. I ride with Mulaney, and I go out when he does, which could be a soon thing. If I should back off from it and Mulaney wins, then he would delight in throwing me out, because he would notice that kind of thing sooner than any man I’ve ever known. Mulaney will at least get pensioned. What the hell will I get?

Suddenly he thought of one safe move he could make, one that might look good to Mulaney, and wouldn’t be known to anyone else. Hell, he thought, Jesse might go for it and it might work, even. He finished his drink in a hurry and went into the hotel, to the pay booths on the lower level. He looked up an unlisted number in the back of his pocket notebook.

After the sixth ring, just as he was beginning to wonder if she was out of town, a woman answered, her voice sulky and blurred with sleep, asking an angry question which came out sounding like, “Wharrawah?”

“Alma? Alma, honey? This is Freddy. Freddy Frick.”

“Oh dear Jesus! ’S dawn, Freddy! Cold, gray dawn.”

“Alma, the reason I called...”

“Hol’ the phone a minute.”

He held the phone a long long time. “Now what?” she asked, and her voice was clear and almost precise.

“Jesse is coming down. To a convention. He’ll get here today.”

“This is a reason to wake me up, for God’s sake? He’s a dear man, and we’ve had our laughs, Freddy, but sleep is important.”

“Alma, I always had the feeling you liked Jesse Mulaney.”

“I guess I do.”

“More than just... on a business basis.”

“What the hell are you getting at?”

“Alma, maybe he’s in trouble. He didn’t ask me to get in touch with you. It’s my idea entirely. I was just thinking... maybe you could help.”

“Keep talking.”

“There’s a lot of changes going on, in the company. There’s a man going to be at the convention, and he will maybe be making the final report that’ll tie the can to Jesse. I was just thinking that... if this man had a hell of a good time down here, and if it got to be... well, say a little bit obvious toward the end, he wouldn’t be so anxious to take the wrong kind of word back.”

“It isn’t exactly a new problem, Freddy dear. I suppose this man would have his guard up. I mean to say that if he’s bright, which I suppose he would have to be, he might be expecting this sort of thing, and so it wouldn’t work.”

“There’s that chance, Alma. So it would depend on the talent, I guess.”

“It would indeed. It would indeed.”

“On the other hand, maybe Jesse has a better plan worked out, and wouldn’t want to try anything like this. But I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to check it out before he gets here, so it could be lined up in case.”

“This man you want should have a fine time — young?”

“Early thirties.”

“That makes it a little rougher, you know. Married?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a small help, usually. There would have to be some good reason for having the girl there, you know. Have you thought of that?”

“Yes, as we’ve been talking I’ve thought of it, but it would have to be a cover story that would fit the girl, Alma.”

“You know, you’re always just a little sharper than I expect you to be, Freddy.”

“Should I say thanks?”

“While we’ve been talking, dear, I’ve been weeding out. I have a very lovely little friend who might work out just right. But it would depend on how she takes to it. She’s kind of complicated. She’s certainly not what you’d call obvious. Sometimes she’s more trouble than she’s worth. Now don’t get nervous, dear. I don’t mean she gets taken drunk or neurotic. I mean she’s too damn selective sometimes. And stubborn as can be. But let me put it this way, Freddy. For any truly high-level guy wanting to meet a nice little friend, I’d have every confidence in Cory. Her name, dear, is Corinna. But then, how many high-level guys are ever in need?”

“Jesse is in need.”

“In another way, of course. But when can you let me know for sure?”

“Before four o’clock this afternoon. Will that be okay?”

“That will be fine, Freddy dear. But this business about a favor for dear old Jesse has nothing to do with... your little token of gratitude for setting it up.”

“You know I wouldn’t try to short you, Alma.”

“I think you might try, but it wouldn’t work. I should warn you, dear, the whole thing might work out a little high.”

“A lot of little things can get buried in a convention tab.”

“If you tell me it’s a deal, we’ll set it up over the phone where Cory should meet you for the briefing. Okay?”

“That would seem to do it, Alma. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m glad you did, really. You know, I ought to feel a little angry with you, Freddy. I haven’t heard from you in ever so long. Way last Christmas, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I remember. It’s this way, Alma. There was this merger, over a year ago, and things have got pretty tightened up. They put in these damn control systems, and it clamps down on me, so I don’t get the chance to operate like in the old days. I mean it would have to come out of my pocket, and that sort of slows me down. Even that deal last Christmas, I could only swindle half the tab, so it was a calculated risk.”

“But weren’t they darling girls?”

“They sure were.”

“Weren’t the men some kind of politicians?”

“A special purchasing commission from Alabama. The deal was to get the low bid thrown out so we’d be the ones to get it.”

“And you did?”

“Sure enough, Alma. So I got the rest of the fee back out of my override, and it worked out. But I don’t think it’s ever going to get back to the way it was back in the good old days when Jesse was down here in my job and I was working for him.”

“It’s the way everybody is cracking down on expense accounts, Freddy, and believe me, it’s put the bind on my business. I’m down to about a third, honestly. Those were the good old days, I guess. Remember when Jesse had that special sign made up for me? For my desk? Technical Consultant — Sales Staff — American General Machine — Southeast District. I’ve still got it around here someplace. You know, aside from the laughs, I’m awful damn grateful to Jesse on another count. In fifty-one, it was, he started me in buying AGM. Before that all I ever bought was government bonds. For three years I bought AGM, and then it started to look as if I had holes in my head. Honest to God, Freddy, two years ago it dropped like a rocket. I called Jesse long distance about it a half dozen times. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“He kept telling me to hang on, and thank God I did. That merger thing made me fat. I got three shares of GAE for every two of AGM, and you know where the hell that has gone to in the last year.”

“I know, I know. Speaking of GAE, that’s where this Hubbard came over from, the one maybe Cory will get to meet. Actually now we’re the AGM division of GAE, Inc.”

“Anyhow, tell Jesse I’m grateful. Give him my new number, Freddy dear, and tell him to give me a ring while he’s in town. Maybe he could come over here for a drink. Will Connie be with him?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Where is this deal?”

“The Sultana.”

“So it’s a ten-minute cab ride. He could slip out. How are things with you, Freddy? How’s Bert?”

“Well, not so good. It’s a change of life thing, I guess, but she doesn’t want to admit it. She’s always been a nervous woman anyhow. Anyway, the kids are doing good. Kit’s getting good marks in Gainsville, and the Marines just sent Tommy to a special school, some kind of radar thing.”

“You get Bert onto some hormones, Freddy, and you’ll see one hell of a change in her.”

“There better be a change before she drives me nuts.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give Cory a special briefing on this and tell her that it means a lot to me personally if she does a good job.”

“I’d appreciate that a lot, Alma.”

“She’s got a college degree.”

“That could be a help in a deal like this. There’s more than just Jesse involved. He was the one hired me. We’ve been close ever since. Maybe I’ve done a little too much bitching about all the contol systems they’ve stuck in. I guess I wouldn’t have done so much bitching if I’d realized they might get rid of Jesse.”

“Why would they want to?”

“Maybe he’s too old timey, Alma. Hell, I don’t know. He could sell sun glasses in a coal mine, but he couldn’t write up a ten-page analysis of how anybody else should go about it, and he doesn’t know a market survey from a bagel.”

“Isn’t a convention a crazy place to come to to fire a man?”

“They don’t do it that way. He wouldn’t be fired here. We got tipped off they’d been evaluating him in every other aspect of his job, and this is the last part of it left, how he handles himself in this kind of a deal, how much good he does AGM. Hubbard is one of the guys they got doing those evaluations. They’re a cold-fish operation. They’ve weeded out the other divisions, and now they’ve got around to sales, promotion and advertising. What they don’t understand, there was never anything wrong with AGM sales. When we slipped, it was on account of they fell behind on the design and research, so the other outfits had better products on the market. We’re damn near caught up already.”

“Somebody at the door, dear. You phone me a yes or no, okay?”

“Okay, Alma. And thanks a lot.”

He hung up and went up into the main lobby. The convention registration desk had been set up. COLUDA and NAPATAN delegates had begun to arrive. Their baggage had begun to clutter the lobby, awaiting the rooms being vacated by the delegates of the convention which had just terminated. The cashiers were busy checking out the APETOD people. There was a worn, weary, rueful flavor about the APETOD people checking out which was in sharp contrast with the holiday anticipation of the groups of men who stood near the convention registration tables. Fred Frick, moving toward the table, had to stop a half dozen times to shake hands with friends employed by other outfits in the industry, most of whom he hadn’t seen since the last regional convention.

He went to the NAPATAN table where a rather briskly officious young lady said, “Welcome to the seventeenth annual convention of NAPATAN, Mr....?”

“Frick. Fred Frick, American General Machine.”

She quickly extracted a card from her index. A slip of cardboard was stapled to the card. She tore it off at the perforation, deftly inserted it behind the transparent plastic of a lapel button. “Here, sir, is your badge. This is your convention program. This is your book of tickets which should be presented at all lunches, dinners and official cocktail parties. You will find one ticket for each event in your book.” She looked at the card again. “There are fourteen in your group?”

“Yes. Ten in the hotel and four local.”

“I see the whole group is prepaid, sir, except for the registration fee itself. That will be ten dollars. Do you wish to pick up the badges and programs and booklets for your entire group right now?”

“Thanks. I’ll have someone else do that a little later, Miss. Uh... on second thought, I’ll get the things for Mr. Hubbard now. Floyd Hubbard.”

He paid her twenty dollars and walked diagonally across the lobby to the hotel registration desk. There he acquired an envelope. He put Hubbard’s materials in the envelope, hesitated, then scrawled across the front of it, “Welcome aboard!!!! Fred Frick.” He had the envelope placed in the rack for 847.

He moved along to the next section of the registration desk.

“Yes sir?”

“You have a reservation for me? John Dempsey.”

“Ummmm... yes, Mr. Dempsey. A single. Are you with the convention?”

“No,” Frick said, filling out the registration card.

“How long will you be with us?”

“I’ll leave next Sunday.”

“We can offer you a choice of...”

“Put me as far from the convention accommodations as you can get me. A nice room, please, but I don’t have to stare at the ocean.”

“Ummmm... eleven-oh-two is a nice room, Mr. Dempsey, in the main part of the structure here on the street side. Your luggage is here?”

“It’ll be along later.”

“Is this a charge, sir?”

“Cash. Do you want any right now?”

After a slight hesitation, appraisal, decision, the clerk smiled and said, “That won’t be necessary, sir. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. Shall I have a boy show you...”

“Not right now, thanks,” Frick said and pocketed his key and walked away from the desk. It was standard procedure devised a long time ago by Frick and Jesse Mulaney, and they had picked a name easy to remember even when drunk. The most predictable aspect of any convention was the certainty that the unpredictable problem would arise. And the availability of an anonymous room far from the turmoil of convention was a handy device. When checkout time came, the room could be billed right along with the rest of the AGM tab.

He went up to 1102 and found it a pleasant, sizable twin-bed room. It was a few minutes after twelve. He phoned the AGM suite, and Bobby Fayhouser answered.

“How are you doing, Bobby?”

“Okay, I guess. I raised some hell, and they’re yanking a big rug out of here and replacing it. Near as I can figure, somebody built a camp fire in the middle of the main room here and put it out with catsup. I had three assistant managers up here clucking about it. Otherwise the place is okay.”

“How about that little diarama display?”

“It’s on the way over.”

“Who have you got there with you?”

“Charlie and Les.”

“When can I come make an inspection?”

“We should be all set by one o’clock anyway, Fred.”

“Better than I expected. Look, I checked myself in at the convention desk, and I picked up Hubbard’s stuff too. That check you got made out to NAPATAN is for a hundred ’n forty, right? Okay, first chance you get, go down and pick up the crap for the whole group and get twenty cash out of her, which you’ll owe me. If she makes a fuss, tell me. She looks like a little doll who enjoys fussing. One thing I forgot to tell you. Scrounge all the glasses you can. I’ll be around later on.”

Next he called his home. Bert said, “This is a real considerate time to tell me whether or not you’re coming home for lunch.”

“Honey, I told you I can’t be home for lunch or dinner, not while the convention is going on.”

“You may think you told me but you didn’t.”

“Honestly, honey, I don’t like this any better than you do, but I swear I don’t have any idea when I’ll be able to get home tonight.”

“Oh, I knew so damn well that if that Jesse Mulaney came down, I wouldn’t see you at all.”

“Now baby...”

“Don’t give me that now baby stuff, Frederick. It doesn’t do any good. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know you’re damn glad to get away from me. You couldn’t wait to get out of the house this morning, could you?”

“Honey, I’ve got a lot of responsibilities here. I got to see that the AGM part of this thing runs smooth, or that brass that comes down is going to think Fred Frick is a bum.”

“The cat has been throwing up again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”

“I’ve been cleaning up after him all morning.”

“That’s a shame.”

“If you ever happen to think of it, and you’re not too drunk, call me up again some time and say hello.” She hung up so strenuously the noise made him flinch.

He tried 847 again. He was so convinced there would be no answer that when Hubbard said, “Hello?” it caught him off balance.

“Oh... uh... Mr. Hubbard? This is Fred Frick. We’ve never met, but...”

“Mr. Frick. Of course.”

“Glad you could make it. I guess you got in real early.”

“Earlier than I wanted to. But all they could do for me on anything later was put me on standby. So I decided at the last minute to play it safe and take a night coach.”

“Is your room okay?”

“Fine. Fine.”

“What I did, I signed you in for the convention and left the badge and stuff at the desk for you. I can phone down and have them shoot it right up to...”

“Thanks. I’ll pick it up when I go down there.”

“As you probably know already, Mr. Hubbard, this thing doesn’t officially get off the ground until the opening banquet tonight in the Arabian Room at eight o’clock. I’d like to ask you to have lunch with me, but I’ve got to go out to the airport to meet Jesse and Mrs. Mulaney. Would you want to go out there with me?”

“I guess I’ll wait until they get settled in. I think that would be better.”

“Anything you say. What I was thinking, some of my boys are getting the AGM hospitality suite in shape, and if you’re not doing anything else, I could stop by in say five minutes and take you down to the suite and introduce you to some of the boys, and we could have a little drink maybe.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Frick. Five minutes?”

“Right.”

Frick called the suite. Bobby wasn’t there. Les Lewis said he was due back any minute and, yes, the suite was shaping up, and they could fix a drink. Frick explained the situation.

When he rapped at the door of 847, Hubbard opened it immediately, smiled, shook hands, came out into the hall and checked the door to be sure it had locked. Fred Frick felt slightly off balance. Hubbard was not the type he had anticipated. He was a stocky man, with considerable breadth of shoulder, and a look of toughness of body, of a resilient fitness. His black hair was cropped to a length which left just enough to comb and part. His lightweight suit, though obviously tailored to fit him very well, looked as if it was not the sort of thing he would ordinarily wear. He had big hands, a hard thrust of jaw, black and bushy brows, a nose slightly misshapen from some old breakage, a friendly grin, warm, brown, direct eyes. He gave Frick an impression of uncomplicated honesty. Frick knew the type. This man was some kind of technician. He would be more comfortable in coveralls. The hatchet men were cooler types, reserved, watchful, chronically skeptical.

As they walked toward the suite, Frick said, “Have you been to many of this sort of convention, Mr. Hubbard?”

“I’ve been to conventions, but not this kind. I guess they’re all alike in a lot of ways. Mine were engineering deals.”

Frick was gratified to have hit it so closely. “Oh, you started on the production side?”

Hubbard stopped outside the open door of the suite. “Not production as such, Mr. Frick. Once upon a time I was a metallurgist. It wasn’t so long ago, but it’s beginning to seem like a long time ago. GAE hired me away from a research and testing lab to head up a research program on high conductivity metals, and it turned out bigger than they thought, so I had to get more and more over onto the administration side. Much to my disgust, Mr. Frick, they think I’m a better administrator than a metallurgist. So I’m stuck with it for a while. And they keep exposing me to every facet of the whole deal.” He grinned, and Frick found it infectious. “They keep me in a constant condition of confusion.”

“Me, I’ve been in sales all my life,” Frick said.

“Yes,” Floyd Hubbard said. “I know.”

In that moment of exposure Frick tried to make a reading, and got no further than Hubbard’s brown friendly eyes. A metallurgist, Frick thought, and one hell of a man at a table stakes game.

“Come on in and meet the boys,” Frick said.