Chapter V
RECALL
It was night outside, and the phosphor bulbs at the corners gloweddimly, giving him barely enough light by which to locate the way to theextemporized precinct house. Bruce Gordon reached the outskirts of themiserable business section, noticing that a couple of the shops werestill open. It had probably been years since any had dared risk it afterthe sun went down. And the slow, doubtful respect on the faces of thecitizens as they nodded to him was even more proof that Haley's systemwas working. Gordon nodded to a couple, and they grinned faintly at him.Damn it, Mars could be cleaned up....
He grinned at himself, then something needled at his mind, until heswung back. The man who had just passed was carrying a lunch basket, andwas wearing the coveralls of one of the crop-prospector crews; but theexpression on his face had been wrong.
Red hair, too heavily built, a lighter section where a mustache had beenshaved and the skin not quite perfectly powdered.... Gordon movedforward quickly, until he could make out the thin scar showing throughthe make-up over the man's eyes. He'd been right--this was O'Neill, headof the Stonewall gang.
Gordon hit the signal switch, and the Marspeaker let out a shrillwhistle. O'Neill had turned to run, and then seemed to think better ofit. His hand darted down to his belt, just as Gordon reached him.
The heavy locust stick met the man's wrist before the weapon was halfdrawn--another gun! Guns suddenly seemed to be flourishing everywhere.The gun dropped from O'Neill's hand as the wrist snapped, and theStonewall chief let out a high-pitched cry of pain. Then another copcame around a corner at a run.
"You can't do it to me! I'm reformed; I'm going straight! You damnedcops can't...." O'Neill was blubbering. The small crowd that wascollecting was all to the good, Gordon knew, and he let O'Neill go on.Nothing could help break up the gangs more than having a leader breakdown in public.
The other cop had yanked out O'Neill's wallet, and now tossed it toGordon. One look was enough--the work papers had the telltaleover-thickening of the signature that had showed up on other papers,obviously forgeries. The cops had been passing them on the hope offinding one of the leaders.
Some turned away as Gordon and the other cop went to work, but most ofthem weren't squeamish. When it was over, the two picked up theirwhimpering captive. Gordon pocketed the revolver with his free hand."Walk, O'Neill!" he ordered. "Your legs are still whole. Use them!"
The man staggered between them, whimpering at each step. If any membersof the gang were around, they made no attempt to rescue him.
Jenkins, the other cop, had been holding the wallet. Now he held it outtoward Gordon. "The gee was heeled, Corporal. Must of been making a bigcontact in something. Fifty-fifty?"
"Turn it in to Murdoch," Gordon said, and then cursed himself. Theremust have been over two thousand credits in the wallet.
* * * * *
The captain's face had been buried in a pile of papers, but now Murdochcame around to stare at the gang leader. He inspected the forged workpapers, and jerked his thumb toward one of the hastily built cells wherea doctor would look O'Neill over--eventually. When Gordon and Jenkinscame back, Murdoch tossed the money to them. "Split it. You guys earnedit by keeping your hands off it. Anyhow, you're as entitled to it as hewas--or the grafters back at Police Headquarters. I never saw it.Gordon, you've got a visitor!"
His voice was bitter, but he made no opening for them to question him ashe picked up the papers and began going through them again. Gordon wentdown the passage to the end of the hall, in the direction Murdoch hadindicated. Waiting for him was the lean, cynical little figure of HonestIzzy, complete with uniform and sergeant's stripes.
"Hi, gov'nor," the little man greeted him. "Long time no see. With youout here and me busy nights doing a bit of convoy work on the side, wemight as well not both live at Mother's."
Bruce Gordon nodded, grinning in spite of himself. "Convoy duty, Izzy?Or dope running?"
"Whatever comes to hand, gov'nor. The Force pays for my time during theday, and I figure my time's my own at night. Of course, if I ever catchmyself doing anything shady during the day, I'll have to turn myself in.But it ain't likely." He grinned in satisfaction. "Now that I've dug upthe scratch to buy these stripes and get made sergeant--and that takesthe real crackle--I'm figuring on taking it easy."
"Like this social call?" Gordon asked him.
The little man shook his head, his ancient eighteen-year-old faceturning sober. "Nope. I've been meaning to see you, so I volunteered torun out some red tape for your captain. You owe me some bills, gov'nor.Eleven hundred fifty credits. You didn't pay up your pledge to thecampaign fund, so I hadda fill in. A thousand, interest at ten per centa week, standard. Right?"
Gordon had heard of the friendly interest charged on the side here, buthe shook his head. "Wrong, Izzy. If they want to collect that drattedpledge of theirs, let them put me where I can make it. There's no graftout here."
"Huh?" Izzy turned it over, and shook his head. Finally he shrugged."Don't matter, gov'nor. Nothing about that in the pledge, and when yousign something, you gotta pay it. You _gotta_."
"All right," Gordon admitted. He was suddenly in no mood to quibble withIzzy's personal code. "So you paid it. Now show me where I signed anyagreement saying I'd pay _you_ back!"
For a second, Izzy's face went blank; then he chuckled. "Jet me! You'reright, gov'nor. I sure asked for that one. Okay; I'm bloody wellsuckered, so forget it."
Gordon shrugged and gave up. He pulled out the bills and handed themover. "Thanks, Izzy."
"Thanks, yourself." The kid pocketed the money cheerfully, nodding. "Buyyou a beer. Anyhow, you won't miss it. I came out to tell you I got thesweetest beat in Marsport--over a dozen gambling joints on it--and Ineed a right gee to work it with me. So you're it!"
For a moment, Gordon wondered what Izzy had done to earn that beat, buthe could guess. The little guy knew Mars as few others did, apparently,from all sides. And if any of the other cops had private rackets oftheir own, Izzy was undoubtedly the man to find it out, and use theinformation. With a beat such as that, even going halves, and with allthe graft to the upper brackets, he'd still be able to make his pile ina matter of months.
But he shook his head. "I'm assigned here, Izzy, at least for anotherweek, until after elections...."
"Better take him up, Gordon," Murdoch told him bitterly. The captainlooked completely beaten as he came into the room and dropped onto thebench. "Go on, accept, damn it. You're not assigned here any more. Noneof us are. Mayor Wayne found an old clause in the charter and got arigged decision, pulling me back under his full authority. I thought Ihad full responsibility to Earth, but he's got me. Wearing their uniformmakes me a temporary citizen! So we're being smothered back into theForce, and they'll have their patsies out here, setting things up forthe Stonewall boys to come back by election time. So grab while thegrabbing's good, because by tomorrow morning I'll have this all closeddown!"
He shook off Gordon's hand and stood up roughly, to head back up thehallway. Then he stopped and looked back. "One thing, though, I've stillgot enough authority to make you a sergeant. It's been a pleasureworking with you, Sergeant Gordon!"
He swung out of view abruptly, leaving Gordon with a heavy weight in hisstomach. Izzy whistled, and began picking up his helmet, preparing to gooutside. "So that's the dope I brought out, eh? Takes it kind of hard,doesn't he?"
"Yeah," Gordon answered. There was no use trying to explain it to Izzy."Yeah, we do. Come on."
Outside, Gordon saw other cops moving from house to house, and herealized that Murdoch must be sending out warnings to the citizens thatthings would soon be rough again.
Izzy held out a hand to Gordon. "Let's get a beer, gov'nor--on me!"
It was as good an idea as any he had, Gordon decided. He might as wellenjoy what life he still had while he could. The Stonewall gang--whatwas left of it--and all its friends would be gunning for him now. TheForce wouldn't have been fooled wh
en Izzy paid his pledge, and they'dmark him down as disloyal--if they didn't automatically mark down allwho'd served under Murdoch. And he didn't have the ghost of an idea asto what Security wanted of him, or where they were hiding themselves.
"Make it two beers, Izzy," he said. "Needled!"
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