indeed, but all a part of Nick's
master plan to get him and his legions back to Heaven.

By modernizing Hades he hoped to annoy "The Big Boss Upstairs" while
diverting the attention of those two vigilant celestial watchers,
Michael and Raphael, from the main idea. In a series of bold moves,
known only to Nick and his Board or Inner Council, mankind would be
wiped off the earth--and thus bring The BBU to time. Or so Nick hoped.

As a first step, he had spent a year as Pudzy, a college boy, studying
electronics and modern skills of all kinds. He had enjoyed the holiday
on Earth though it irked him to recall that he'd been obliged to do
good here and there. The thought of these satanic lapses caused him to
frown, but his jolly mood returned when he saw the familiar gates of
Hell wide open in obedience to his whistle.

The whistle's high frequency waves also awakened Cerberus, the
three-headed watch dog, besides actuating "The Dingus." This
electronic device Nick had stolen to operate the three ponderous
triple-fold gates of adamantine, brass and iron.

He slowed to supersonic speed, brought back his great red wings and
made a neat three-point landing without injuring the needle-sharp dart
at the end of his long, black tail. Still feeling jovial, he kicked
all three of Cerberus's heads, then zoomed down through the tunnel to
the north bank of the River Styx.

There he halted to view the ten-lane suspension bridge Mulciber had
thrown across the steamy black water. Nick was wondering how the old
genius had accomplished such a feat when a thick black wall dropped
across the bridgehead.

"Cost you five thousand rubles to cross, mister," Charon called in a
thick voice.

The old riverman who had ferried new shades across the earth-hell
boundary for eons of time, had just returned after a year's vacation
in Moscow.

He hid a bottle under his brimstone bench, then straightened a gaudy
red tie as he weaved forward. A changed devil, Charon. His year in
Redland had done more than put him into a natty summer suit. Although
not very bright, he had unusual powers of observation. He liked to ape
the odd speech of his customers, especially American prospectors.
These truculent but harmless old timers worked at odd jobs around the
nearby palace grounds, and in the ferryman they found a kindred
spirit.

Nick eyed the loyal old fellow's red tie with amazement. "What, for
St. Pete's sake, are you drinking, Char?"

"Vodka," Charon