Steel Read Free Page B

to Pole when he was in the hall again. They pushed Maxo down to the ready room and put him inside it.
    â€œWhat about checkin’ ’im over?” Kelly said.
    â€œWhat about my gut? ” snapped Pole. “I ain’t eaten in six hours.”
    Kelly blew out a heavy breath. “All right, let’s go then,” he said.
    They put Maxo in a corner of the room.
    â€œWe should be able t’lock him in,” Kelly said.
    â€œWhy? Ya think somebody’s gonna steal ’im?”
    â€œHe’s valuable,” said Kelly.
    â€œSure, he’s a priceless antique,” said Pole.
    Kelly closed the door three times before the latch caught. He turned away from it, shaking his head worriedly. As they started down the hall he looked at his wrist and saw for the fiftieth time the white band where his pawned watch had been.
    â€œWhat time is it?” he asked.
    â€œSix twenty-five,” said Pole.
    â€œWe’ll have t’make it fast,” Kelly said. “I want ya t’check ’im over good before the fight.”
    â€œWhat for?” asked Pole.
    â€œDid ya hear me?” Kelly said angrily.
    â€œSure, sure,” Pole said.
    â€œHe’s gonna take that son-of-a-bitch B-seven,” Kelly said, barely opening his lips.
    â€œSure he is,” said Pole. “With his teeth.”
    â€œHurry up,” Kelly said, ignoring him. “We ain’t got all night. Did ya get the wheel?”
    Pole handed it to him.
    *   *   *
    â€œSome town,” Kelly said disgustedly as they came back in the side door of the stadium.
    â€œI told ya they wouldn’t have any oil paste here,” Pole said. “Why should they? B-twos are dead. Maxo’s probably the only one in a thousand miles.”
    Kelly walked quickly down the hall, opened the door of the ready room and went in. He crossed over to Maxo and pulled off the covering.
    â€œGet to it,” he said. “There ain’t much time.”
    Blowing out a slow, tired breath, Pole took off his wrinkled blue coat and tossed it over the bench standing against the wall. He dragged a small table over to where Maxo was, then rolled up his sleeves. Kelly took off his hat and coat and watched while Pole worked loose the nut that held the tool cavity door shut. He stood with his big hands on his hips while Pole drew out the tools one by one and laid them down on the table.
    â€œRust,” Pole muttered. He rubbed a finger around the inside of the cavity and held it up, copper colored rust flaking off the tip.
    â€œCome on,” Kelly said, irritably. He sat down on the bench and watched as Pole pried off the sectional plates on Maxo’s chest. His eyes ran up over Maxo’s leonine head. If I didn’t see them coils, he thought once more, I’d swear he was real. Only the mechanics in a B-fight could tell it wasn’t real men in there. Sometimes people were actually fooled and sent in letters complaining that real men were being used. Even from ringside the flesh tones looked human. Mawling had a special patent on that.
    Kelly’s face relaxed as he smiled fondly at Maxo.
    â€œGood boy,” he murmured. Pole didn’t hear. Kelly watched the sure-handed mechanic probe with his electric pick, examining connections and potency centers.
    â€œIs he all right?” he asked, without thinking.
    â€œSure, he’s great,” Pole said. He plucked out a tiny steel-caged tube. “If this doesn’t blow out,” he said.
    â€œWhy should it?”
    â€œIt’s sub-par,” Pole said jadedly. “I told ya that after the last fight eight months ago.”
    Kelly swallowed. “We’ll get ’im a new one after this bout,” he said.
    â€œSeventy-five bucks,” muttered Pole as if he were watching the money fly away on green wings.
    â€œIt’ll hold,” Kelly said, more to himself than to Pole.
    Pole shrugged. He put back the tube and