The Last Collection by Seymour Blicker Page B

brakes and let out a sharp blast on the car horn, then turned to watch the girl who was now looking up the road towards him. Hankleman opened his car door and got out. He began motioning for the hiker to hurry along. As the girl began to run up the slope, Hankleman got back into the car and watched as she trundled towards him, panting under the load of her knapsack.
    Hankleman watched as she approached, wheezing with exhaustion but smiling. When she was within fifty feet of the car, Hankleman began to drive away very slowly, watching the girl through his rear-view mirror. She continued to follow the car, which Hankleman kept just twenty feet or so ahead of her.
    Maybe he would be able to break his record with this girl, he thought. He had once kept a fat girl hitchhiker, fully loaded with camping gear, chasing his car over hilly terrain for three-quarters of a mile before she collapsed from exhaustion. He was sure at that time that if she hadn’t run out of steam he could have kept her going for two or three miles.
    For Hankleman that incident had proved that people will go to incredible lengths to deny that they have been fooled. He would never allow himself to be so stupid. Now he grinned as he watched the girl struggling up the hill after his car. He looked at his mileage indicator. So far he had kept her running only about one-tenth of a mile. Suddenly the girl drew up and began waving a heavy fist in the air. Hankleman turned to watch as she collapsed wearily in a heap by the road’s shoulder and rolled over on her side.
    Hankleman accelerated and drove quickly away, laughing crazily. After a minute his laughter subsided and his thoughts went back to Solly Weisskopf and Moishie Mandelberg. They were probably still laughing at him, he thought. Five thousand dollars down the drain! There was nothing he could do about it. Unless of course, for some reason, they were unable to collect within the thirty days. That thought gave Hankleman a sudden lift, but it lasted only for a moment because he immediately realized that if a pro like Solly the Hawk failed to collect in thirty days, then certainly no one else would succeed, especially not an amateur goon off the streets.
    In any case, there was no sense in even thinking about it because the man they called Solly the Hawk would collect and Hankleman was sure he would manage it long before the end of the thirty-day period. He was a professional strong-arm man and he would use every trick in the book, including violence, to get what he was after. No matter that Mandelberg had said that they never resorted to violence. He didn’t expect them to admit to laying on muscle but he knew they would and with very little urging. No, they would collect all right, unless Artie Kerner died or went into hiding. . . .
    What if he, Morrie Hankleman, forced Kerner into hiding or into leaving town until the expiry of the thirty days!
    For another instant, Hankleman’s spirits were raised, but again they quickly fell as he realized the implications of this idea. Since he had already threatened Kerner without success, threats would obviously not be sufficient to make him leave town; and even if the threats were successful and Kerner did leave town, who was to say he would return in thirty days, if he returned at all. The only way he could be assured of keeping Kerner out of Solly Weisskopf’s reach for the thirty-day period and still retain some control over the situation would be if he were to have Kerner abducted and kept on ice somewhere. No! That would leave him open to a charge of kidnapping. That could mean life in prison if anything went wrong and, besides, the price of such an operation would probably cost him just as much as Solly Weisskopf’s commission. It was all getting too involved and Hankleman put a hand to his stomach to ease the pain.
    What if Kerner decided to blow town on his own? Hankleman thought suddenly. A chill passed through his body. Kerner