Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Amazing Stories January 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
DIRECT WIRE
by CLEE GARSON
Mort and Mike got strange calls on this phone; they didn'tcome through Central!
He had a strange husky voice that made queer chills goup and down your spine
here is an empty cigar store on the first floor of the loop buildingin which I keep my office. Formerly it was managed by two of theslickest small time gambling operators who ever booked a bang-tail orbanked a game of Hooligan.
There is a small, neatly lettered sign on the door of that unoccupiedstore now, however, which has caused no end of comment from the formercustomers of the "cigar store" who had always been all too cheerfullyhappy to lose their daily dollars there.
The sign reads:
"CLOSED FOR THE DURATION
Due to our having
Entered The Armed
Forces of the U. S.
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Mort & Mike"
If you haven't guessed as much by now, the signatures at the bottom ofthat sign are those of the two former proprietors of theestablishment, Mort Robbins and Mike Harrigan.
Now since both Mort and Mike were of military age, and since thisnation is at war, it should hardly seem unusual that their formercustomers and all who knew them would consider their summons to thecolors something worthy of great comment. It should hardly seemunusual, that is, unless you happened to know the two, and realizedfurther that they were not drafted, but voluntarily enlisted.
Neither was what you could call deeply patriotic, you see. Nor werethey the sort to be influenced by such emotional appeals as thebeating of drums, the waving of flags, or the playing of brass bandsmarching along Jackson Boulevard.
"We gotta lick them lice!" Mike constantly proclaimed in regard toAdolf and the Axis, when war discussions came up around the "cigarstore." But aside from those loud and perhaps sincere pronouncements,Mike's only contribution to the cause of Victory was the purchase ofwar bonds which he looked on merely with the cold eye of one seeking asmart investment. And as for his attitude toward the army, Mike bestexpressed himself with a small embryo ulcer which he kept always onthe verge of eruption within twenty-four hours notice to report for adraft board examination. It was rumored that, through a swift,sufficient amount of whisky, Mike could make his embryo ulcer danceangrily for the draft medicos at any time. This none too admirableaccomplishment with an ailment not actually serious had kept MikeHarrigan in Class 4 F ever since the last draft registration.
As for Mike's partner, Mort Robbins, the patriotic picture was prettymuch the same. Mort was loudly belligerent toward our enemies in allthe "cigar store" discussions, wisely put much of his funds in