"Thank God," said Drecker, through grated teeth. "That was the worst goddam music I've ever had to suffer through, and I've heard some ugly birds sing in my time." He struggled with his bonds, but it did about as much good as trying to open a safe with a feather boa. Chongo was in a similar predicament. His feet were partly free, but all he could do was wave them around helplessly.

"Hey, shamus..." It was Laura speaking, cool as always. "If I kick my purse over there, you think you could get in it?"

Chongo took a quick look. "Yeah, I figure so. What's in there?"

"A couple of things that might help," she replied, and she hooked the handle of the purse with the toe of one shoe, and dragged it closer, got the shoe underneath, and lofted the purse within a few inches of Chongo's left foot.

He caught it neatly out of the air as only a primate can, got his other foot in play and snapped it open. There was a lot of stuff in that purse. The usual stuff. He'd seen plenty of women's purses, and it was pretty much always the same. Amazing what they could cram inside a few square inches of leather.

"No gun," he said. "That surprises me."

"Oh, there was one," she said, "but Big Daddy's gorillas took it. They left the rest, though. Just girl stuff. You know..."

"And there's a lighter," he said, with great satisfaction.

"Exactly," smiled Laura.

Chongo crisply cracked open the lighter with his right foot. It was a nice chrome one with a good feel to it. He struck a light and held it directly under the nearest taut rope he could find, producing some smoke and a very acrid smell as the rope burned. It was weakening fast. A sharp tug with his right leg and the rope gave way. That gave him more room to work. Two more ropes went and he got an arm loose. The rest was simple.

Chongo moved immediately over to Drecker and freed him, then Laura, and finally Lenny, who looked just about ready to keel over from total nervous exhaustion.

"I been lookin' for you, pal," he said to Lenny, who blanched. "No, not what yer thinkin'. I'm a primate dick. Chongo Chimp. I was hired by your wife Betty a few days ago to find you. Ever since then it's been feeding time at the zoo...in the lion cage. I'd really like to know why. Maybe you could tell me."

"And I'd like to know who the lady is," said Drecker, who was busy gathering up all the firepower he could find on and around Big Daddy. "What's your tale, sister? I know you ain't just interested in befriending chimps with blown-up cars."

"Let's keep it simple," she said, and reached into her purse. She unzipped a little compartment and took out a card, and handed it to Drecker. Chongo saw a flicker of surprise cross his eyes for just a moment. He looked at the card like he was trying to X-ray it, then looked at Laura the same way for a long moment.

"I see. This real?"

"Uh-huh." Laura nodded. "As real as the sweat on your hatband."

"That real?" grinned Drecker, smiling with his mouth, but not necessarily his eyes.

"At least that real," replied Laura, smiling back the same way.

"I could always phone the General and ask him."

"Why don't you then?"

"Well, maybe I will," said Drecker. "But first I'm phoning for some backup."

"Good idea," said Laura, and she lit up a gold-tipped cigarette nonchalantly. Drecker looked at it hungrily...or maybe at her...or maybe at both, it was hard to tell. Then he walked over to the nearest phone and started dialing.

Chongo felt oddly jealous. He didn't particularly like all this cracking wise between Drecker and the lady. Drecker could be a slick charmer when he wanted to. Hell, what was Chongo thinking about? She was human and so was Drecker, but Drecker was happily married, and...aw for heaven's sake! He must be losing his professional grip entirely to be thinking about stuff like this at such a time. Meanwhile, Lenny spilled what he knew. It wasn't much, but it tied in the baboons and the diamonds and a big shipment of bananas.

It took only 30 seconds for the sirens to be audible, and in less than two minutes the place was absolutely full of Chicago's Finest, heavily armed. It was crawling coppers.

Five minutes after that the meat wagon arrived, and they took out Fat Freddy on a stretcher. It took four men to carry it. He was a sad sight with that hole in his chest, and deader than a brass cucumber, but not yet quite as cold.

As for Big Daddy, he was coming around. Not dead yet. It seemed kind of a shame. Chongo never had liked Orangutans much.

When Big Daddy focused his eyes properly he found himself staring into a surprising number of gun barrels, and his wrists and ankles were both cuffed, size extra large. The buttons were taking no chances.

"My banjo!" he howled, lurching in the direction of the shattered instrument. He was pulled up short by several sets of hard unsympathetic hands.

He glared balefully at Chongo. "You! You stinking little shinbone of a chimp. How come your brain is still working? I played 'Blue Tail Fly' and you didn't beg for mercy. I played 'I Met Her In Venezuela' and you didn't even flinch. Are you just too stupid to listen or don't your ears work right?"

Chongo walked over. "Let me tell ya somethin', Malone. I've heard a lotta music, good and bad. I've heard cheap lounge musicians in dirty dives. I've heard alley cats fightin' inside empty trash cans. I've heard drunken fools yellin' obscenities in the street at 3 AM. I've heard the death screech of a macaque goin' down in deep water with cement boots on. I've heard things that polite, sensitive apes don't wanna talk about or even admit to, not to their wife or their lawyer or their priest or their doctor or their best friend...but I have NEVER heard anything as bad as what you played tonight and called "music". You could charm the smell off a dead skunk and bottle it with that stuff. You could gut an eel in 5 seconds without getting your hands wet. You could strip the spines off a cactus. You call yourself a musician? Don't make me laugh. You're not a musician. You're not even what I would call some kinda natural disaster. You're a freak. You oughta get a job in the circus."

Big Daddy drew in a gasping breath and bared his fangs hideously. His eyes bulged with unspeakable malice. "I'll kill you for that," he hissed.

"I wish you luck trying," sneered Chongo.

"Take him downtown," snapped Drecker. "In a locked armoured car. With tommy guns at the ready on every side. Anybody looks sideways at you, shoot to kill. We got some diamonds and some bananas to track down, and this ugly mug might just tell us where they are while he plea bargains his way into less than 80 years in the can."

"Matter of fact," he continued, "I think we better all go downtown for a bit. Anybody got objections?"

"I want to see my wife," said Lenny Frizzell. He looked miserable, yet relieved.

"You will," said Drecker. "I'm gonna call her right now, and get someone to bring her down too. Let's go."

Chongo and Laura got in Drecker's car and Lenny followed up in a patrol car. A regular convoy. Chongo had not seen this much heat on the street in Chicago in a long time. They were taking no chances.

"Looks like I earned my $300," said Chongo ruefully, "cos there is Mr Lenny Frizzell, safe and sound...but I hate to think of the expense account this time. I don't imagine they can afford it."

It was a lousy way to make a living, but it beat washing dishes or shaving stiffs, and the company was way more entertaining.

Editor's note: Well, this story could sort of end here...or it could go on and on and on...but maybe we all need a rest for a bit. Whattya think, guys?

Historical note: Big Daddy Malone got released in a relatively short time through complexities of the law that are beyond the scope of this story, and underwent a body shave, a facelift, and a deliberate change of identity, resurfacing as the well-known folksinger Burl Ives. He pursued an active musical career into the 1990's. What happened to the original Burl Ives is unknown, but it was probably not good. The ambitions of the Miami ape mob were frustrated and they pulled in their horns and went back to Miami. Lenny and Betty Frizzell moved to Dayton, Ohio and lived quietly without further incident. The North Side (or whatever side) gorillas and the baboons got in a huge firefight with each other and the Chicago police and the feds over a freighter full of bananas down at the docks. 50 million contraband bananas were siezed by the Port Authority, and quickly donated to poor apes and monkeys in the metropolitan area. This resulted in a big party for the simian contingent in town. Most of the diamonds were recovered, but seven went missing. Miss Laura M was transferred to a new job of some sort in Spanish Morocco. Just before she left, she had dinner with Chongo in a very ritzy place and asked him what it would cost to replace his office and the other stuff that had been destroyed in the Frizzell job. He said about $5000, he figured. Three weeks later he got a letter with a $7,000 bank draft in it from Spanish Morroco. That and a card. It said, "Thanks for the dance. 'L'"