"Look, Luke, I'm not trying to stir up any trouble." The whining tone was back in his voice. "I just wanted to know—you work for Tom Calhoun, eh?"
I felt my back hair begin to raise as he mentioned Tom's name. So far as I knew—and it was my business to know—Tom Calhoun didn't have an enemy on Earth. He had me on his payroll for two reasons, the first being that I was the best friend he ever had, with the possible exception of Ann Briscoe, his laboratory assistant, the second reason being that he knew he could trust me right down to his last chip. Sometimes it gets important to have one guy you can really trust. My job was to shoo away all curiosity seekers, who would invade his lab by the scores just to get a glimpse of the great scientist, thus making certain that Tom got all the privacy he wanted, which was about all there was of this article. Also if the commies should come prying around, I was supposed to meet them and roll out the carpet edged in black. They had and I had.
Long Jaw didn't look like a commie, though in my experiences these birds never look like what they are but always like something else. The thing that makes them commies is inside, where it can't be seen, never outside.
"Whatever you've got on your mind, get it off," I said. As I spoke a couple of new customers came into the little saloon and lined up at the back bar. Ned Kenro, owner of the place and my good friend, went back to serve them.
"How would you like to make a couple of thousand bucks for yourself?"
His question staggered me. Two thousand dollars was a lot of money. "What do I have to do for it?" I asked.
"Give me the key to the back door of Calhoun's laboratory," Long Jaw said. As he spoke he watched my face. What he saw there, made him realize he had said too much. He reached for the gun inside his coat.
He was fast, I'll give him credit for that. But not fast enough.
Smack! My left jab caught him on the end of his protruding jaw, right on the button. He got his feet tangled up with the bar rail and went over backward. The gun, a nasty looking little .38, flew out of his hand. I reached to pick it up. This movement probably saved my life.
A beer bottle came down across the left side of my head and struck my shoulder a numbing blow. As I went to the floor, the whole saloon seemed to turn upside down. Dazed, I tried to sit up and bring my eyes into focus. I couldn't see very well but what little I saw, I didn't like. The two joes who had lined up at the bar were coming toward me. They didn't intend to kiss me.