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certainly hate to do anything to this fine boy of yours.”
    “Is Tom with you now?” Hillman said.
    “More or less. He’s nearby.”
    “Could I possibly talk to him?”
    “No.”
    “How do I know he’s alive?”
    The man was silent for a long moment. “You don’t trust me, Mr. Hillman. I don’t like that.”
    “How can I trust—?” Hillman bit the sentence in half.
    “I know what you were going to say. How can you trust a lousy creep like me? That isn’t our problem, Hillman. Our problem is can I trust a creep like you. I know more about you than you think I do, Hillman.”
    Silence, in which breath wheezed.
    “Well, can I?”
    “Can you what?” Hillman said in near-despair.
    “Can I trust you, Hillman?”
    “You can trust me.”
    Wheezing silence. The wheeze was in the man’s voice when he spoke again: “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, Hillman. Okay. You’d probably like to talk all day about what a creep I am, but it’s time to get down to brass tacks. I want my money, and this isn’t ransom money, get that straight. Your son wasn’t kidnapped, he came to us of his own free will—”
    “I don’t—” Hillman strangled the words in his throat.
    “You don’t believe me? Ask him, if you ever have a chance. You’re throwing away your chances, you realize that? I’m trying to help you pay me the money—the information money, that’s all it is—but you keep calling me names, liar and creep and God knows what else.”
    “No. There’s nothing personal.”
    “That’s what you think.”
    “Look here,” Hillman said. “You said it’s time to get down to brass tacks. Simply tell me where and when you want the money delivered. It will be delivered. I guarantee it.”
    Hillman’s voice was sharp. The man at the other end of the line reacted to the sharpness perversely:
    “Don’t be in such a hurry. I’m calling the shots, you better not forget it.”
    “Then call them,” Hillman said.
    “In my own good time. I think I better give you a chance to think this over, Hillman. Get down off your high horse and down on your knees. That’s where you belong.” He hung up.
    Hillman was standing in the alcove with the receiver still in his hand when I got back to the sitting room. Absently he replaced it on its brackets and came toward me, shaking his silver head.
    “He wouldn’t give me any guarantees about Tom.”
    “I heard him. They never do. You have to depend on his mercy.”
    “His
mercy!
He was talking like a maniac. He seemed to revel in the—in the pain.”
    “I agree, he was getting his kicks. Let’s hope he’s satisfied with the kicks he’s already got, and the money.”
    Hillman’s head went down. “You think Tom is in danger, don’t you?”
    “Yes. I don’t think you’re dealing with an outright maniac, but the man didn’t sound too well-balanced. I think he’s an amateur, or possibly a petty thief who saw his chance to move in on the heavy stuff. More likely a gifted amateur. Is he the same man who called this morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “He may be working alone. Is there any chance that you could recognize his voice? There was some hint of a personal connection, maybe a grievance. Could he be a former employee of yours, for example?”
    “I very much doubt it. We only employ skilled workers. This fellow sounded practically subhuman.” His face became gaunter. “And you tell me I’m at his mercy.”
    “Your son is. Could there be any truth in what he said about Tom going to him voluntarily?”
    “Of course not. Tom is a good boy.”
    “How is his judgment?”
    Hillman didn’t answer me, except by implication. He went to the bar, poured himself a stiff drink out of a bourbon bottle, and knocked it back. I followed him to the bar.
    “Is there any possible chance that Tom cooked up this extortion deal himself, with the help of one of his buddies, or maybe with hired help?”
    He hefted the glass in his hand, as if he was thinking of throwing it