406
PARTISAN REVIEW
Simpleton as a waterproof yamulke. Any questions?"
Sussman looked uncomfortable. He was a gaunt young man with thin–
ning hair who always seemed to be in and out of the hospital with a liver
complaint. "Anne Frank wasn't in Auschwitz," he said. "She was in
Bergen-Belsen."
"That's not a question," Heimlich told him. "That's a point of infor–
mation. Anyway, it's not important, we'll make it a guest appearance.
Gettys," he said, swinging his hatchet face on the Art Director, "you've
been after me for a centerfold. All right, you've got your centerfold. Give
me that famous poster of Che Guevara. Put a lemon meringue pie in his
face."
Heimlich swept Gettys aside with a gesture, and Mick knew his turn
had come. He wanted to walk away, but his blood would not let him. It
was a pool of nitroglycerine and he did not dare to jar it. The immunity
was gone, swamped by a massive new infection. He could smell the infec–
tion on Heimlich's breath.
Infectious humor,
he told himself. He did not want
to mess with it. He did not have the energy to fight his body.
"Swell party, isn't it," said Heimlich.
" I give it an eighty-five," Mick heard himself saying. " It's got a nice
beat and you can dance to it." He was vamping, he knew. It was necessary
to keep the rhythm going, but Heimlich was past giving points for rhythm.
There was no way
to
avoid what was coming.
"What do you think of my centerfold," said Heimlich.
"Look," Mick said. "Leave me alone, okay?"
"What's this!" Heimlich clapped a splayed hand to his heart. He let it rest
there like a huge pink spider clinging to his chest. "What have we here? Some
left-over qualms from the Sixties perhaps? Can it be that you are offended by
the notion of a pie in the face of the sacred Che? Has the Master Scourge of
the celebrity set fallen on his knees before a graven image? Are all his con–
quests, glories, triumphs, spoils shrunk to this small measure? 0
if
this be so,
then the light has gone out in the temple of reason and all my songs are as
ashes
in
my mouth! Bring down the curtain,
fa commedia e.finita!
But no! I
cannot believe it. I
will
not believe it! The Master doth protest us. I mean
to
say the Master does but test us. We must not doubt him. He will wield his
knout again as always. He will strip the hide of sanctity from every false mes–
siah and lay bare the cringing philistine pulp beneath. For
10,
even now he is
about to furnish us proof most wondrous of his steadfast zeal."
"Guess again," Mick said.
He could feel the stares of the guests beating against his face like a
swarm of restless moths. It gave him a throb of revulsion. He had to get
away from it. He turned his back on Heimlich and walked toward the
couch. He would collect Adriana and they would leave together. She
