The Erection Set

Damn it, Dog, we’re buddies. You saved my tail and I owe you, but how much, buddy, how much? We were full of piss and vinegar during the war, but for me the vinegar is all gone and all I have left is the piss and the way I’ve been leaking over your pile, there won’t even be much of that left.

You were such a nice guy at one time. No trouble. Always doing somebody a favor, flying extra missions when a pal wanted to get laid in London; dumping yourself in front of a junior birdman to get a Jerry off his tail; taking care of the dame who got stood up. Man, you were a fooler. I don’t know what happened or why, but you changed. You wouldn’t come back after it was all over ... no, you take a European discharge and disappear into the back alleys of the world and except for a few postcards from screwball places like Algiers and Budapest, nobody knows anything about you. Ernie Kirrel thought he saw you in Marseilles, but he couldn’t be sure.

Then I remembered yesterday’s News, the item about the new controls to be exercised in narcotics production. Turkey was cutting back on her licensed poppy fields; France was going against the illegal processors; the U.S. was funding for an all-out war against the distributors. I started to sweat all over again. The origin of the postcards made sense now. So did the money. Dog was in the racket and was cutting out before they had him over a barrel. Damn it, Dog, are you nuts? You went and heisted somebody’s bundle and they weren’t law-conscious, good-guy police types. They’d track you down, cut your nuts off and let you bleed to death while you were holding them in your hand.

. And me. I was in it now too. I was his protector. I couldn’t give the stuff away ... I couldn’t take a chance dumping it somewhere without leaving tracks. I just didn’t think that way at all. All they had to find was the money or the bag and I’d be holding my own balls too. There was no way out, none at all.

But there was. I had almost done it the first time. I picked up every bill lying around, repacked it, closed the lid of the suitcase and buckled the straps.

The whole thing would just about fit into the hall incinerator.

I was sweaty and grimy and looked forward to a cool shower when I stuck the key in the lock and walked into Lee’s apartment. He was standing in the middle of the living room pulling on his pants with nervous hands, his face white and puckered looking. He jammed his feet into a pair of loafers and never saw me until he picked up my suitcase and started toward the door and when he caught my eyes across the distance he nearly lost his grip on it.