20

cause people who recognized him on the street some-tunes gave in to their deske to take his head off, over their frustration about gas shortages. Apparently, his standing up was meant to intimidate the smaller Remo.

"You," he said, pointing. "Out the same way you came in and take that piece of fluff out there with you." Remo reached out and took Hefferling's index finger between his own right index finger and thumb and told the bigger man, "Don't point. It's not polite."

Although he had no deske to sit down, Harold Hefferling did and abruptly. He looked at his finger. It did not hurt but it seemed to have had something to do with his sitting down.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded of Remo.

"I told your secretary," said Remo as he perched on the edge of Hefferling's desk. "I am Everyman. I speak for Everyman. If I opened my shirt, you would see a big red 'E' tattooed on my chest and it would stand for Everyman."

"You're nuts," Hefferling said. Suddenly, for a moment, he was frightened. The man was obviously a lunatic, maybe one whose brain had gone soft from spending too many hours in too many gas lines under too much hot sun. He decided to take a softer tone. "Well, what do you want, Everyman? Something about decimals?"

"No," Remo said. "She got that wrong. I said I wanted to decimate you. But I don't want you to think I'm unreasonable. So first you tell me why you make this gas shortage worse and then I'll decide whether I'm going to kill you or not."

Hefferling's mouth dropped open. He made a sound that sounded like "glah, glah." He tried again and it came out clearer. "Kill, kill?"

"Just once," Remo said. "Kill."

21

"You are nuts," Hefferling said. "Stark, raving mad."

"Mad? We're all mad. We're mad because we have to sit on gas lines, because people are killing people on gas lines and the only line you see is the one at the bank when you deposit your money. Mad? Sure. We're fed up and we're not taking it anymore." Remo smiled. He had heard that line in a movie and always wanted to use it.