Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 109: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SHARPIES “Rasy, George, easy.” Hugh held up a restraining hand. “I know that Perez wanted those planes real bad. But somebody else apparently didn’t want him to have them. About eleven last night, that somebody stuck a large knife into dear old Perez who then took very sick and died.” There was a moment’s silence. George rubbed his nose reflectively. “How come they didn’t get you, too?” he asked with mild interest. “Perez was a little jumpy yesterday evening, it would seem with good cause, and when we got to his apart- ment house, he asked me to go ahead and see if there was anyone in the hall. There wasn’t. When I went back, there he was, making like a doornail.” Hugh shuddered slightly. “I made sure he was dead and then I went away from there.”’ “Any cops?” “I didn’t wait to see, but I guess some eventually came. There’s a squib on page ten of this morning’s paper saying that the body of a Senor Perez was found and that the police think his killing may have been for reasons connected with the politics of his native land.” “How right they are. I expect that those planes would have made the difference for him and his revolution.” A flash of concern crossed George’s face. ““Do you think that we’re in the clear?” “As far as the gendarmes go—yes. But if the lads that scragged Perez have been following him around, they may know that he’d been trying to do business through us.” Hugh sighed gloomily. “I wish we were legitimate.” George was Stung. “We are legiti- mate. If somebody wants something, we find it and buy it for him. It’s none of our business what he is going to do with it.” They wrangled desultorily for a few minutes. It was apparently an old, 107 familiar, and tired quarrel. Finally George voiced the question that had been in both their minds: ‘Well, what do we do now?” “With respect to l’affaire Perez, nothing. Except cancel the airplanes and stick to busy well-lighted streets for a while. But as for new business, I don’t know. Have you had any nibbles from anyone?” “No. So far I—” He was inter- rupted by the buzzing of his desk intercom. He flipped the switch. “There are two gentlemen to see you, Mr. Hanley,” it announced. George bit his lip indecisively. Abruptly he said, “Please show them in.” Hugh raised his eyebrows. “If it’s Perez's pals, we might as well get a look at them,” George told him. He opened his top righthand desk drawer and adjusted something within. They both regarded the door expect- antly. Neither could restrain a start at the sight of the two men the pretty re- ceptionist ushered into the room. Both were tall, broad shouldered and perfectly tailored. Their faces were handsome with a wooden regularity of feature. They were identical twins. Each carried a large new brief case. “Mr. Hanley?” the man on the left asked. George took his hand out of his desk drawer and admitted that he was Mr. Hanley. He introduced Hugh as his partner. “I am John Smith and this is my brother Jesse Smith,” the same one of the two continued. “We understand that you are commission agents?’ The Smiths’ eyes were almost a true een. “Yes, Mr. Smith, we certainly are. Won’t you please sit down?’ There was a wide smile of hearty good-fellow- ship on George’s face. These were surely not from the homeland of the Comichbooks.co