Outside, the street was a progression of shadowed block forms. I was shivering slightly, my teeth rattling like the porcelain they were. Was this the storied "ride," I wondered? Carmen finally returned to the car, unlatched the door and slid in. He did not reinsert the ignition key. I did not feel like sprinting down the deserted street. "The boys will have it set up in a minute," Tony the racketeer informed me. "What?" The firing squad? "The Expendable, of course." "Here? You dragged me out here to see how you have prostituted my invention? I presume you've set it up with a 'Keep Our City Clean' sign pasted on it." He chuckled. It was a somewhat nasty sound, or so I imagined. A flashlight winked in the sooty twilight. "Okay. Let's go," Tony said, slapping my shoulder. I got out of the car, rubbing my flabby bicep. Whenever I took my teen-age daughter to the beach from my late wife's parents' home, I frequently found 230 pound bullies did kick sand in my ears. The machine was installed on the corner, half covered with a gloomy white shroud, and fearlessly plugged into the city lighting system via a blanketed streetlamp. Two hoods hovered in a doorway ready to take care of the first cop with a couple of fifties or a single .38, as necessity dictated. Tony guided my elbow. "Okay, Professor, I think I understand the bit now, but I'll let you run it up with the flagpole for me, to see how it waves to the national anthem." "Here?" I spluttered once more. "I told you, Carmen, I wanted nothing more to do with you. Your check is still on deposit...." "You didn't want anything to do with me in the first place." The thug's teeth flashed in the night. "Throw your contraption into gear, buddy." That was the first time the tone of respect, even if faked, had gone out of his voice. I moved to the switchboard of my invention. What remained was as simple as adjusting a modern floor lamp to a medium light position. I flipped. Restraining any impulse toward colloqualism, I was also deeply disturbed by what next occurred. One of the massive square shapes on the horizon vanished. "What have you done?" I yelped, ripping the cover off the machine. Even under the uncertain illumination of the smogged stars I could see that the unit was half gone--in fact, exactly halved. "Squint the Seal is one of my boys. He used to be a mechanic in the old days for Burger, Madle, the guys who used to rob banks and stuff." There was an unmistakable note of boyish admiration in Carmen's voice. "He figured the thing would work like that. Separate the poles and you increase the size of the working area." "You mean square the operational field. Your idiot doesn't even know mechanics." "No, but he knows all about how any kind of machine works." "You call that working?" I demanded. "Do you realize what you have there, Carmen?" "Sure. A disintegrator ray, straight out of _Startling Stories_."