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LEASE TO DOOMSDAY
By LEE ARCHER
_The twins were a rare team indeed. They wanted to build a printing plant on a garbage dump. When Muldoon asked them why, their answer was entirely logical:_
_"Because we live here."_
It was the lack of sense in the ad that made him go back to it again. Hewas having his breakfast coffee in the cafeteria next to the midtownhotel where he lived. The classified section of the New York _Times_ wasspread before him.
WANTED: Live wire Real Estate broker--No selling--30-40. Room 657 Silvers Building--9-12 Monday morning.
The ad made no sense for several reasons. One: you just don't go aroundadvertising for brokers with four pages of them in the classified phonebook. Two: how can one be a live wire broker, without having to sell?Kevin Muldoon shook his head. Just no damn sense. The SilversBuilding--H'm! Not too far off. He looked at his strap watch. Fifteenminutes of nine. He could walk it in that time.
"Don't be a fool," he said to himself. "It's obviously a come-on of somekind."
He got up, paid the check and went out. It wasn't till he was on ThirdAve. that he was conscious he had started to go crosstown when hisoffice was in the opposite direction. He smiled wryly. Might as wellinvestigate, he thought. Can't do any harm, and it won't take long.
There were four others waiting in the small anteroom. The outer doorbore no legend other than the room number, and the inner door was blankaltogether. Muldoon made a quick appraisal of those waiting. Threewere obviously past middle-age, the fourth about Muldoon's age. Theinner door opened and Muldoon looked up. A tall man came out first, aman in his early sixties, perhaps. Immediately behind him came aslightly shorter man, but very heavy and with a head that was bald as abilliard ball. The older man marched straight to the door, opened it andwent out without a second look back. The fat man looked around, his facebeaming in a wide smile, eyes almost closed behind fleshy lids.
The weird machine clicked and clattered while the twinsdreamed of tomorrow.]
"And now, who's next?" he asked.
The one who was about Muldoon's age stepped forward. The fat manmotioned for the other to precede him. The door closed. Not more than aminute went by, and the door opened again and the same act as beforewith the older man was gone through.
"And now, who's next?" the fat man asked.
Muldoon noted even the inflection was the same.
So it went with the three who were left, until it was Muldoon's turn.And now there were six others beside himself also waiting to beinterviewed.
It was a squarish room, simply furnished, with a couple of desks setside-by-side with a narrow space between them. A chair was set upfacing the desks, obviously meant for the one to be interviewed. Seatedbehind one of the desks was the twin of the man now coming to seathimself at the other desk. Their smiles were identical as they waitedfor Muldoon to make himself comfortable.
For a moment there was a blank silence. Muldoon studied them, and they,smiling still, studied him. Muldoon broke the silence.
"You know," Muldoon said, "your ad didn't make sense to me."
The twins hunched forward slightly at their desks. Their eyes brightenedin anticipation. "No-o?..." said the one who had been waiting forMuldoon. "Why?"
"With some four pages of brokers in the classified directory, you don'thave to advertise for one. And a live wire broker gets that reputationas a salesman. Without selling, the wire is dead."
The twins beamed at each other.
"Evin," said the one to the left, "I think we've found our man. Will yougo out and tell those waiting?"
They waited for the twin to return.
"I am Robert Reeger, my brother Evin," said the first twin.
Muldoon introduced himself. There was no handshaking.
* * * * *
"You are right about the ad," Robert Reeger said. "We worded it that wayfor a reason. We wanted a man of quick intelligence. Mind you, now, wedo want a broker, and one who will do no selling. The 'live wire' partwas my brother Evin's thought. He does sometimes have clever ideas."
Robert stopped to beam at his twin. "Just now," Robert returned toMuldoon, "I won't go into full discussion of our plans. Briefly,however, we are buyers, buyers, we hope, of a particular area. Becauseof what we have in mind to do we would rather it was done quietly andwithout any publicity. Had we engaged the services of a large agencythis would not be possible, for, if I may coin a phrase, the trumpetmust blow strongly to announce the coming of genius." He smiled, strokedhis chin, looked up at the ceiling and his lips moved silently as if heenjoyed repeating the phrase.
"I like that, Robert," Evin said.
"Yes, I thought it was good," Robert said.
They both looked to Muldoon.
Muldoon said nothing.
The twins sighed audibly, in unison.
Robert's lips came forward in a pout. The look of a pouting cherub,Muldoon thought, one trying to look stern, and only succeeding inlooking naughty-childish. Muldoon suddenly knew of whom the twinsreminded him. Twin Charles Laughtons, without hair.
"You _are_ free to work for us?" Robert asked.
"_With_ you," Muldoon said. "_I_ have the license." He gave them a quicksmile, as if to lessen the sharpness of the tone he had used. "A brokeracts for a client in the purchase or sale of property. He can't beemployed by them."
"Of course," Robert said quickly. "I did not mean to imply any otheraction. Now suppose you tell us briefly about yourself."
Muldoon gave them a thumbnail sketch of his career. He noted theirpleased look that he was a one-man agency. At the conclusion, Robertstood up and came around the desk. He thrust a hand at Muldoon.
Like shaking hands with a piece of warm dough, Muldoon thought.
"I do believe," Robert said as he placed a heavy arm around Muldoon'sshoulder, and walked him to the door, "that we shall have a mutuallyhappy relationship. You will not be unrewarded, moneywise." He openedthe door, paused, still with his arm around Muldoon, and looked steadilyinto Muldoon's eyes. "Yes, I think there will be mutual benefits in ourrelationship. Now, in conclusion, will you pick us up at this officetomorrow morning at nine?"
Muldoon nodded.
"Good! Then 'bye now, Mr. Muldoon, and thanks so much for coming by inanswer to our ad."
The answer to an irritating thought came to Muldoon while he was waitingfor an elevator to take him to the ground floor. He knew where he hadseen the same kind of look as was in Robert Reeger's eyes when they hadparted. In the eyes of a cat Muldoon had once seen toying with a mousethe cat had caught....
Deena Savory was a redhead, a green-eyed redhead with a kind ofpatrician look about her face that came off very well in the photographsthey took of her. Deena was a model, and made three times the moneyKevin Muldoon made.
It had always been a sore point between them, and more than once thereason for their worst quarrels.
She was also the worst cook in New York.
Monday evenings were spent in Deena's small apartment on EastFifty-Sixth Street, and she usually cooked dinner for Muldoon.Invariably it was steak. Deena had no imagination when it came to food.Even in restaurants she ordered one or another kind of steak.
They were together on the couch, she stretched full-length, her head inMuldoon's lap. He was telling her about the Reeger twins and what hadhappened that morning. His hands caressed her lightly as she spoke, nowacross her cheeks, now more intimately.
"... I don't dig them, Honey," he said, as if in recapitulation. "TheRobert twin, f'r instance. 'You will not be unrewarded, moneywise.'Madison Avenue and Nineteenth Century English
...."
She gently took his hand from where he seemed to find most comfort, andput it up to her cheek. "What's the difference?" she asked. "So long asthere's money in it?"
"Broker's commission," he said. "No more or less."
"You've been getting so much of that, lately?"
"N-no."
"Okay, then. Stop fighting it. What do you care what kind of Englishthey use? Or whether they used sign language. The buck, kid, the buck."
"Deena," Muldoon said gravely, "you have the grubbing soul of apawnbroker. Or real estate broker," he added. He bent his head andkissed her lips.
Her lips opened to his with that familiar warmth, a hunger for him whichnever failed to