THE PASSIONATE PITCHMAN By STEPHEN WILDER _Hector was just another salesman until the gorgeous Miss Laara came along with her Foolproof Method of Procurement. Miss Laara was fascinating. So were her methods. They introduced Hector into a world where inhibitions were unknown. Then the Syndicate moved in. They wanted to know about this procurement business. So will you._ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic October 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [Illustration: Patty put a working stranglehold on Laara but it was Hector, underneath, who got the business.] The large-headed little man cornered Hector Finch after Heck had had his fourth martini at the sales convention. Heck functioned rather well after four martinis, but he never remembered much afterward. He did remember vaguely, though, that the little man's head seemed too large. Not freakishly so--just somewhat too large. Nor was the man's small stature something a circus sideshow could make money on. The man was almost but not quite five feet tall, Hector Finch judged. "I want to see you a moment," he told Heck politely. "If I may." Hector nodded. He way-laid a waiter and short-stopped two brimfull cocktail glasses which had been heading elsewhere. "Drink?" he asked the little man. The little man nodded, took one of the glasses and upended it. He had poured the martini--it was a very dry martini--down his throat without swallowing. That, Hector decided, as they found an unoccupied corner of the convention hall in which were displayed the various electronic products of Weatherby, Inc., for which Heck was a salesman, was a considerable feat. "I've been watching you," the little man said. "Oh?" It probably meant, Heck told himself, that the little man was an employee-scout for one of Weatherby's competitors. Such scouts often came to these conventions and had a go at recruiting top-flight sales personnel. "You're passionate, Hector Finch," the little man said suddenly and unexpectedly. "I'm which?" Hector asked in surprise. "Passionate. As a salesman, of course. I wouldn't know about your love life. You truly like to sell things, don't you?" "Why, yes," Heck said enthusiastically, surprised that he had admitted it. This was, in a way, Hector Finch's secret. Other men loved big sports cars or fishing or hunting or trips to exotic places. Hector Finch's first love was selling. There was something, he always told himself, soul-satisfying in selling someone a product which, while good in its own right, they didn't really need. Something thrilling and ego-boosting.... "... and you're healthy and young and ought to have a life-expectancy of some fifty-odd years after today. Yes, Heck. You're the man we want."