Chapter VIII
VOTE EARLY AND OFTEN
Izzy was up first the next morning, urging them to hurry before thingsbegan to hum. From somewhere, he dug up a suit of clothes that Murdochcould wear. He found the gun that Gordon had confiscated from O'Neilland filled it from a box of ammunition he'd apparently purchased.
"I picked up some special permits," he said. "I knew you had thiscannon, gov'nor, and I figured it'd come in handy. Wouldn't be caughtdead with one myself. Knives, that's my specialty. Come on, Cap'n, wegotta get out the vote."
Murdoch shook his head. "In the first place, I'm not registered."
Izzy grinned. "Every cop's registered in his own precinct; Wayne got thehonor system fixed for us. Show your papers and go into any booth inyour territory. That's all. And you'd better be seen voting often, too,Cap'n. What's your precinct?"
"Eleventh, but I'm not voting. I'd like to come along with you toobserve, but I wouldn't make any choice between Wayne and Nolan."
Downstairs, the rear room was locked, with one of Mother Corey's guardsat the door. From inside came the rare sound of water splashing, mixedwith a wheezing, off-key caterwauling. Mother Corey was apparentlymaking good on his promise to take a bath. As they reached the hall, oneof Trench's lieutenants came through the entrance, waving his badge atthe protesting man outside.
He spotted the three, and jerked his thumb. "Come on, you. We're late.And I ain't staying on the streets when it gets going."
A small police car was waiting outside, and they headed for it. BruceGordon looked at the debacle left behind the drunken, looting mob. Mostof the barricades were down. Here and there, a few citizens were rushingabout trying to restore them, keeping wary eyes on the mobsters who hadpassed out on the streets.
Suddenly a siren blasted out in sharp bursts, and the lieutenant jumped."Come on, you gees. I gotta be back in half an hour."
They piled inside, and the little electric car took off at its topspeed. But now the quietness had been broken. There were trucks comingout of the plastics plant, and mobsters were gathering up their drunks,and chasing the citizens back into their houses. Some of them werewearing the forbidden guns, but it wouldn't matter on a day when nopolice were on duty.
In the Ninth Precinct, the Planters were the biggest gang, and all theothers were temporarily enrolled under them. Here, there were less signsof trouble. The joints had been better barricaded, and the looting hadbeen kept to a minimum.
The three got off. A scooter pulled up alongside them almost at once,with a gun-carrying mobster riding it. "You mugs get the hell outof--Oh, cops! Okay, better pin these on."
He handed out gaudy arm bands, and the three fastened them in place.Nearly everyone else already had them showing. The Planters were movingefficiently. They were grouped around the booths, and they had begun toline up their men, putting them in position to begin voting at once.
Then the siren hooted again, a long, steady blast. The bunting in frontof the booths was pulled off, and the lines began to move. Izzy led theway to the one at the rich end of their beat, and moved toward the headof the line. "Cops," he said to the six mobsters who surrounded thebooth. "We got territory to cover."
A thumb indicated that they could go in. Murdoch remained outside, andone of the thugs reached for him. Izzy cut him off. "Just a friend onthe way to his own route. Eleventh Precinct."
There were scowls, but they let it go. Then Gordon was in the littlebooth. It seemed to be in order. There were the books of registration,with a checker for Wayne, one for Nolan, and a third, supposedlyneutral, behind the plank that served as a desk. The Nolan man wasprotesting.
"He's been dead for ten years. I know him. He's my uncle."
"There's a Mike Thaler registered, and this guy says he's Thaler," theWayne man said decisively. "He votes."
One of the Planters passed his gun to the inspector for the Wayne side.The Nolan man gulped, and nodded. "Heh-heh, yes, just a mix-up. He'sregistered, so he votes."
The next man Gordon recognized as being from one of the small shops onhis beat. The fellow's eyes were desperate, but he was forcing himselfto go through with it. "Murtagh," he said, and his voice broke on thesecond syllable. "Owen Murtagh."
"Murtang.... No registration!" The Wayne checker shrugged. "Next!"
"It's Murtagh. M-U-R-T-A-G-H. Owen Murtagh, of 738 Morrisy--"
"Protest!" The Wayne man cut off the frantic wriggling of the Nolanchecker's finger toward the line in the book. "When a man can't get thename straight the first time, it's suspicious."
The supposedly neutral checker nodded. "Better check the name off,unless the real Murtagh shows up. Any objections, Yeoman?"
The Nolan man had no objections--outwardly. He was sweating, and thesurprise in his eyes indicated that this was all new to him.
Bruce Gordon came next, showing his badge. He was passed with a nod, andheaded for the little closed-off polling place. But the Wayne mantouched his arm and indicated a ballot. There were two piles, and thispile was already filled out for Wayne. "Saves trouble, unless you wantto do it yourself," he suggested.
Gordon shrugged, and shoved it into the slot. He went outside and waitedfor Izzy to follow. It was raw beyond anything he'd expected--but atleast it saved any doubt about the votes.
The procedure was the same at the next booth, though they had moretrouble. The Nolan man there was a fool--neither green nor agreeable. Heprotested vigorously, in spite of a suspicious bruise along his temple,and finally made some of the protests stick.
Gordon began to wonder how it could be anything but a clear unanimousvote, at that rate. Izzy shook his head. "Wayne'll win, but not thateasy. The sticks don't have strong mobs, and they'll pile up a heavyNolan vote. And you'll see things hum soon!"
Gordon had voted three times under the "honor system," before he saw.They were just nearing a polling place when a heavy truck came careeningaround a corner. Men began piling out of the back before it stopped--menarmed with clubs and stones. They were in the middle of the Planters atonce, striking without science, but with ferocity. The line waiting tovote broke up, but the citizens had apparently organized with care. Agood number of the men in the line were with the attackers.
There was the sound of a shot, and a horrified cry. For a second, thecitizens broke; then a wave of fury seemed to wash over them at theneedless risk to the safety of all. The horror of rupturing the dome wasstrongly ingrained in every citizen of Marsport. They drew back, thenmade a concerted rush. There was a trample of bodies, but no more shots.
In a minute, the citizens' group was inside, ripping the fixed ballotsto shreds, filling out and dropping their own. They ignored theregistration clerks.
A whistle had been shrilling for minutes. Now another group came ontothe scene, and the Planters' men began getting out rapidly. Some of thecitizens looked up and yelled, but it was too late. From the approachingcars, pipes projected forward. Streams of liquid jetted out, and theiragonized cries followed.
Even where he stood, Gordon could smell the fumes of ammonia. Izzy'sface tensed, and he swore. "Inside the dome! They're poisoning the air."
But the trick worked. In no time, men in crude masks were clearing outthe booth, driving the last struggling citizens away, and getting readyfor business as usual.
Murdoch turned on his heel. "I've had enough. I've made up my mind," hesaid. "The cable offices must be open for the doctored reports on theelection to Earth. Where's the nearest?"
Izzy frowned, but supplied the information. Bruce Gordon pulled Murdochaside. "Come off the head-cop role; it won't work. They must have hadreports on elections before this."
"Damn the trouble. It's never been this raw before. Look at Izzy's face,Gordon. Even he's shocked. Something has to be done about this, beforeworse happens. I've still got connections back there--"
"Okay," Gordon said bitterly. He'd liked Asa Murdoch, had begun torespect him. It hurt to see that what he'd considered hardheadedness wasjust another case of a fool fighting drag
ons with a paper sword.
"Okay, it's your death certificate," he said, and turned back towardIzzy. "Go send your sob stories, Murdoch."
They taught a bunch of pretty maxims in school--even slum kids learnedthat honesty was the best policy, while their honest parents rotted inunheated holes, and the racketeers rode around in fancy cars. It had gothim once. He'd refused to take a dive as a boxer; he'd tried to playhonest cards; he'd tried honesty on his beat back on Earth. He'd triedto help the suckers in his column, and here he was.
And Gordon had been proud to serve under Murdoch.
"Come on, Izzy," he said. "Let's vote!"
Izzy shook his head. "It ain't right, gov'nor."
"Let him do what he damn pleases," Gordon told him.
Izzy's small face puckered up in lines of worry. "No, I don't mean him.I mean this business of using ammonia. I know some of the gees trying tovote. They been paying me off--and that's a retainer, you might say. Nowthis gang tries to poison them. I'm still running an honest beat, and Ibloody well can't vote for that! Uniform or no uniform, I'm walking beattoday. And the first gee that gives trouble to the men who pay me gets aknife where he eats. When I get paid for a job, I do the job."
Gordon watched him head down the block, and started after the littleman. Then he grimaced. Rule books! Even Izzy had one.
He went down the row, voting regularly. The Planters had things inorder. The mess had already been cleaned up when he arrived at thecheaper end of the beat. It was the last place where he'd be expected todo his duty by Wayne's administration; he waited in line.
Then a voice hit at his ears, and he looked up to see Sheila Corey onlytwo places in front of him. "Mrs. Mary Edelstein," she was saying. TheWayne man nodded, and there was no protest. She picked up a Wayneballot, and dropped it in the box.
Then her eyes fell on Gordon. She hesitated for a second, bit her lips,and finally moved out into the crowd.
He could see no sign of her as he stepped out a minute later, but theback of his neck prickled.
He started out of the crowd, trying to act normal, but glancing down tomake sure the gun was in its proper position. Satisfied, he wheeledsuddenly and spotted her behind him, before she could slip out of sight.
Then a shout went up, yanking his eyes around with the rest of thosestanding near. The eyes had centered on the alleys along the street, andmen were beginning to run wildly, while others were jerking out theirweapons. He saw a big gray car coming up the street; on its side waspainted the colors of the Planters. Now it swerved, hitting a sirenbutton.
But it was too late. Trucks shot out of the little alleys, jammingforward through the people; there must have been fifty of them. One hitthe big gray car, tossing it aside. It was Trench himself who leapedout, together with the driver. The trucks paid no attention, but boredown on the crowd. From one of them, a machine gun opened fire.
Gordon dropped and began crawling in the only direction that was open,straight toward the alleys from which the trucks had come. A few othershad tried that, but most were darting back as they saw the colors ofNolan's Star Point gang on the trucks.
Other guns began firing; men were leaping from the trucks and pouringinto the mob of Planters, forcing their way toward the booth in thecenter of the mess.
It was a beautifully timed surprise attack, and a well-armed one, eventhough guns were supposed to be so rare here. Gordon stumbled intosomeone ahead of him, and saw it was Trench. He looked up, and straightinto the swinging muzzle of the machine gun that had started thecommotion.
Trench was reaching for his revolver, but he was going to be too late.Gordon brought his up the extra half inch, aiming by the feel, andpulled the trigger. The man behind the machine gun dropped.
Trench had his gun out now, and was firing, after a single surprisedglance at Gordon. He waved back toward the crowd.
But Gordon had spotted the open trunk of the gray car. He shook his headand tried to indicate it. Trench jerked his thumb and leaped to hisfeet, rushing back.
Gordon saw another truck go by, and felt a bullet miss him by inches.Then his legs were under him, and he was sliding into the big luggagecompartment, where the metal would shield him.
Something soft under his feet threw him down. He felt a body under him,and coldness washed over him before he could get his eyes down. The coldwent away, to be replaced by shock. Between his spread knees layMurdoch, bound and gagged, his face a bloody mess.
Gordon reached for the gag, but the other held up his hands and pointedto the gun. It made sense. The knots were tight, but Gordon managed toget his knife under the rope around Murdoch's wrists and slice throughit. The older man's hands went out for the gun; his eyes swung towardthe street, while Gordon attacked the rope around his ankles.
The Star Point men were winning, though it was tough going. They hadfought their way almost to the booth, but there a V of Planters' carshad been gotten into position somehow, and gunfire was coming frombehind them. As he watched, a huge man reached over one of the cars,picked up a Star Point man, and lifted him behind the barricade.
The gag had just come out when the Star Point man jumped into viewagain, waving a rag over his head and yelling. Captain Trench followedhim out, and began pointing toward the gray car.
"They want me," Murdoch gasped thickly. "Get out, Gordon, before theygang up on us!"
Gordon jerked his eyes back toward the alley on the other side. It wentat an angle and would offer some protection.
He looked back, just as bullets began to land against the metal of thecar. Murdoch held up one finger and put himself into a position to makea run for it. Then he brought the finger down sharply, and the twoleaped out.
Trench's ex-Marine bellow carried over the fighting. "Get the old man!"
Bruce Gordon had no time to look back. He hit the alley in fiveheart-ripping leaps and was around the bend. Then he swung, just asMurdoch made it. Bullets spatted against the walls, and he saw bloodpumping from under Murdoch's right shoulder.
"Keep going!" Murdoch ordered.
A fresh cry from the street cut into his order, however. Gordon risked aquick look, then stepped farther out to make sure.
The surprise raid by the Star Pointers hadn't been quite as much of asurprise as expected. Coming down the street, with no regard for mentrying to get out of their way, the trucks of the Croopsters werebattering aside the few who could not reach safety. There were nomachine guns this time.
They smacked into the tangle of Star Point trucks, and came to agrinding halt, men piling out ready for battle. Gordon nodded. In a fewminutes, Wayne's supporters would have the booth again; there'd be adelay before any organized search could be made for the fugitives. Helooked down at Murdoch's shoulder.
"Come on," he said finally. "Or should I carry you?"
Murdoch shook his head. "I'll walk. Get me to a place where we cantalk--and be damned to this. Gordon, I've got to talk--but I don't haveto live. I mean that!"
Gordon started off, disregarding the words; a place of safety had tocome first. He picked his way down alleys and small streets. The olderman kept trying to stop to speak, but Gordon gave him no opportunity.There was one chance....
It was farther than he'd thought, and Gordon began to suspect he'dmissed the way, until he saw the drugstore. Now it all fell intoplace--the first beat he'd had with Izzy.
He ducked down back alleys until he reached the right section. Hescanned the street, jumped to the door of the little liquor store andbegan banging on it. There was no answer, though he was sure the oldcouple lived just over the store.
He began banging again. Finally, a feeble voice sounded from inside."Who is it?"
"A man in distress!" he yelled back. There was no way to identifyhimself; he could only hope she would look.
The entrance seal opened briefly; then it flashed open all the way. Hemotioned to Murdoch, and jumped to help the failing man to the entrance.The old lady looked, then moved quickly to the other side.
"_Ach, Gott_," sh
e breathed. Her hands trembled as she relocked theseal. Then she brushed the thin hair off her face, and pointed. Gordonfollowed her up the stairs, carrying Murdoch on his back. She opened adoor, passed through a tiny kitchen, and threw open another door to abedroom.
The old man lay on the bed, and this time there was no question ofconcussion. The woman nodded. "Yes. Pappa is dead, God forbid it. He_would_ try to vote. I told him and told him--and then ... With my ownhands, I carried him here."
Gordon felt sick. He started to turn, but she shook her head quickly."No. Pappa is dead. He needs no beds now, and your friend is suffering;put him here."
She lifted the frail body of the old man and lowered him onto the floorwith a strength that seemed impossible. Then her hands were gentle asshe helped lower Murdoch where the corpse had been. "I'll get alcoholfrom below--and bandages and hot water."
Asa Murdoch opened his eyes, breathing stertoriously. His face wasblanched, his clothes a mess. But he protested as Gordon tried to stripthem. "Let them go, kid. There's no way to save me now. And listen!"
"I'm listening!"
"With your _mind_, Gordon, not your ears. You've heard a lot aboutSecurity. Well, I'm Security. Top level--policy for Mars. We never got atop man here without his being discovered and killed--That's why we'vehad to work under all the cover--and against our own government. Nobodyknew I was here--Trench was our man--Sold us out! We've got juniormen--down to your level, clerks, such things. We've got a dozen plans.But we're not ready for an emergency, and it's here--now!
"Gordon, you're a self-made louse, but you're a man underneath itsomewhere. That's why we rate you higher than you think you are. That'swhy I'm going to trust you--because I have to."
He swallowed, and the thin hand of the woman lifted brandy to his lips."Pappa," she said slowly. "He was a clerk once for Security. But nobodycame, nobody called...."
She went back to trying to bandage the bleeding bluish hole in hischest. Murdoch nodded faintly.
"Probably what happened to a lot--men like Trench, supposed to build anorganization, just leaving the loose ends hanging." He groaned; sweatpopped out on his forehead, but his eyes never left Gordon's. "Hell'sgoing to pop. The government's just waiting to step in; Earth _wants_ totake over."
"It should," Gordon said.
"No! We've studied these things. Mars won't give up--and Earth wants aplum, not responsibility. You'll have civil war and the whole planetarydevelopment ruined. Security's the only hope, Gordon--the only chanceMars had, has, or will have! Believe me, I know. Security has to benotified. There's a code message I had ready--a message to afriend--even you can send it. And they'll be watching. I've got thebasic plans in the book here."
He slumped back. Gordon frowned, then found the book and pulled it outas gently as he could. It was a small black memo book, covered withpages of shorthand. The back was an address book, filled withnames--many crossed out. A sheet of paper in normal writing fell out.
"The message ..." Murdoch took another swallow of brandy. "Take it.You're head of Security on Mars now. It's all authorized in the plansthere. You'll need the brains and knowledge of the others--but theycan't act. You can--we know about you."
The old woman sighed. She put down the hot water and picked up thebottle of brandy, starting down the stairs.
"Gordon!" Murdoch said faintly.
He turned to put his head down. From the stairs, a sudden cry and thumpsounded, and something hit the floor. Gordon jumped toward the sound, tofind the old lady bending over the inert figure of Sheila Corey.
"I heard someone," the woman said. She stared at the brandy bottlesickly. "_Gott in Himmel_, look at me. Am I a killer, too, that I shouldstrike a young and beautiful girl. She comes into my house, and I sneakbehind her ... It is an evil time, young man. Here, you carry herinside. I'll get some twine to tie her up. The idea, spying on you!"
Gordon picked the girl up roughly. That capped it, he thought. There wasno way of knowing how much she'd heard, or whether she'd tipped othersoff. He dropped her near the bed, and went over to Murdoch. The man wasdying now.
"So Security wants me to contact the others in the book and organizethings?"
"Yes." Murdoch swallowed. "Not a good chance, then--but a chance. Stilltime--I think. Gordon?"
"What else can I do?" Bruce Gordon asked.
He knew it was no answer, but Asa Murdoch apparently accepted it as apromise. The gray-speckled head relaxed and rolled sideways on thebloody pillow.
"Dead," Gordon said to the woman, as she came up with the twine. "Dead,fighting wind-mills. And maybe winning. I don't know."
He turned toward Sheila--a split second too late. The girl came up fromthe floor with a single push of her arm. She pivoted on her heel, hitthe door, and her heels were clattering on the stairs. Before Gordoncould reach the entrance, she was whipping around into an alley.
He watched her go, sick inside, and the last he saw was the hand sheheld up, waving the little black book at him!
He turned back into the liquor shop; the woman seemed to read his face."I should have watched her. It is a bad day for me, young man. I failedPappa; I failed the poor man who died--and now I have failed you. It isbetter..."
He caught her as she fell toward him. She relaxed after a second."Upstairs, please," she whispered, "beside Pappa. There was nothingelse. And these Martian poisons--they are so sure, they don't hurt. Fiveminutes more, I think. Stay with me, I'll tell you how Pappa and I gotmarried. I want somebody should know how it was with us once, together."
He stayed, then picked the two bodies up and moved them from the flooronto the bed where he had first seen the old man. He moved Murdoch'sbody aside, and covered the two gently. Finally, he went down thestairs, carrying Murdoch with him. The man's weight was a stiff load,even on Mars; but, somehow, he couldn't leave his body with the oldcouple.
He stopped finally ten blocks of narrow alleys away, and put Murdochdown.
Now he had no witnesses, except Sheila Corey. He had no book, no cluesas to whom to see and what to do.
He heard the sound of a mobile amplifier, and strained his ears towardit. He got enough to know that Wayne had won a thumping victory, betterthan three to two.
Isaiah Trench was still captain of the Seventh Precinct.
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