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half. The other office on the floor was the Jiffy Music Publishing Company. In four years I had never seen anyone go in or out, though occasionally a light showed in the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor.
    My name was on the door, so I guessed that I was still in business. The door was locked. Maria must have gone home, or wherever it was she went when she left the office. I went in and turned on the lights. I walked through the coat closet where Maria had her desk and that served as a waiting room, into my office. There was my desk upside down and cracked in the center of the room.
    I didn’t keep anything of importance in my desk except for a couple boxes of bullets, and I pulled these out of the wreckage. The telephone had been flipped off the desk, but it was still working.
    I got my bottle of gin out of the filing cabinet. It was next to my .357 magnum in its holster, and I thought it might be a good idea to start wearing it. If I met the brother of Godzilla again—and I fully intended to—it would serve as an equalizer. Even that monster would find it tough to function with a hole in him the size of a baseball. The gun could probably take out an elephant, but I figured if I had to shoot, I didn’t want to be lobbing marshmallows.
    I found a glass that didn’t look too dirty, and filled it halfway with the gin. I took a big swallow, felt it burn as it went down, and poured some more in the glass to replace what I had drunk.
    I sat in my chair, put my feet up on the windowsill, lit a cigarette, and leaned back. I grabbed the telephone cord and pulled the phone over to me. I dialed the number for Ellis Maycroft of Spode, Maycroft and Burbary, Stock Brokerage, not really expecting to find him there since it was after working hours. I was surprised when Maycroft himself answered.
    “Maycroft, this is Sam Hunter. What are you doing there so late, doctoring accounts again?”
    He gave an uneasy laugh.
    “Just finishing some work that had to be done. I haven’t heard from you in a long time.”
    He didn’t sound especially pleased to be hearing from me now. I had cleared up a mess an absconding junior partner had made, and I kept it so quiet that no one ever knew about it. But in the process I had turned up some stuff on Maycroft that wouldn’t do him any good. As a result, he was a useful source when I needed some information about the world of high finance.
    “Maycroft, I need some info on Medco Pharmaceutical Supplies. Go back a couple of years. Especially what was going on around the time of the attempted merger. Also, the status of the company now. Also, anything you’ve got on the president, Simon Acker.”
    “Now, Hunter.” He was starting to whine “That’s not my field. I can’t—”
    “Your firm has files on everything. Get one of your juniors to put together the complete story. I’ll come over about eleven o’clock tomorrow.”
    “But that’s not enough time. I need—”
    “I’ll see you at eleven.... Oh, Maycroft, I promise I won’t smash up your office or do anything that would embarrass you.” I emphasized “embarrass” and heard him swallow hard before I hung up the receiver.
    I drank some more gin and smoked another cigarette before I made my next call. It was to Detective Charles Watkins of the Los Angeles Police Department, Narco Squad.
    He wasn’t a very good cop, but he was one of the few who would still talk to me. We went back a long way together, and he would always owe me a favor since I had twice saved his life when we were in Viet Nam together.
    After being placed on hold and transferred about four times, I was finally connected with the right department and got him on the line.
    “Charlie, Sam Hunter here.”
    “Sam! It’s good to hear from you. How’ve you been? Staying out of trouble?”
    “If I’m out of trouble, I’m out of business. You know that.”
    “I guess I do. What can I do for you?”
    You can get me whatever there is on the Black