Tossing cards into a hat wasn't getting the rent paid. But ever since she'd left it was all Chongo could seem to do.

That and drink. Had to get some money soon or the last bourbon bottle would be dry.

He flipped the three of clubs towards the hat, missed. Damn. The whole deck was all over the floor. He'd have to pick them up again. Maybe he'd buy three or four more decks, make it easier to....

It was a very official knock on the door. Cops, thought Chongo. Heavy cops. Maybe even G-men.

The door opened, crashed into the wall. Two guys in suits and hats. Yeah, thought Chongo, examining the last few weeks in his head, G-men. FBI.

"You Chongo Chimp, chump?" asked the taller.

"You curious or just dumb?" replied Chongo. "Who else would be...URK!" The shorter guy held Chongo by the neck up against the wall.

"Lissen, you! You keep a civil tongue in yor head, see? When you git asked somethin' by the Boss, you answer, you ____________ ape!" He let go, dropping Chongo to the floor.

"Oh, let's all sit down and discuss this like civilized people," said the taller. "Dicky, let it go. I don't think Mr. Chimp meant anything impolite."

"I don't like ___________ apes, that's all," muttered Dicky.

Chongo hoisted himself into his desk chair. The taller man took the client's chair. Dicky stood, looking like the business end of an unhappy .38.

Chongo looked at Dicky, said "You're ugly. Don't let me catch you in an alley, 'cause afterwards you'll be uglier."

"Listen, Chimp," began the taller man. "We're Federal agents." And he flipped an ID across the desk. Chongo glanced at it. Not the FBI. Must be..."Counterintelligence?" he asked.

The taller man waved off the question with a flick of his right hand. "You could say that, yes," he answered. "You interested in serving your country?"

"Maybe. Is there pay, or am I gonna do this outa the goodness of my heart and the empty of my cupboard?"

"A hundred a day plus expenses. And we'll pay hospital and funeral expenses if necessary."

The pay was good, though Chongo. Too good. This would be as dangerous as a rabid dog, maybe worse.

"And here's ten days pay as a signing bonus," added the taller man. Dicky snorted as a pack of twenties was laid on the desk.

Chongo looked at it, his stomach rumbled. He took it, counted it, stuck it in his desk.

"What's the caper?" he asked.

"Nazi spies," replied the taller agent. "At least, we THINK so." He turned to Dicky. "Go get the General. Now."

Dicky turned sullenly, left, and returned a moment later with a man in a suit. Dicky returned to the place where he'd been holding up the wall.

"Chongo Chimp," said the taller agent, who was now standing, "General Leslie Groves." They shook hands, both sat.

"So, Mr. Chimp," said Groves, "I've got to break all kinds of security here, but you'll need to know. We've run a background check on you, and you're a patriotic Primate-American clear through. So, tell me...have you ever heard of the Manhattan Project?"