ent set them
up, gave them a mixture of powers, and has been trying to keep them from
working ever since. But somehow they did clean up Venus; and every crook
here is scared to death of the name. How come a muckraking newspaperman
like you never turned up anything on them, Gordon?"

Gordon shrugged. It was the first reference he'd heard to his
background, and he preferred to let it drop.

But Mother Corey cut in, his voice older and hoarser, and the skin on
his jowls even grayer than usual. "Don't sell them short, cobber. I
did--once.... You forget them, here, after a while. But they're
around...."

Bruce Gordon felt something run down his armpit, and a chill creep up
his back....

Out on the street, a sudden whooping began, and he glanced down. The
parade was on, the Croopsters in full swing, already mostly drunk. The
main body went down the street, waving fluorescent signs, while
side-guards preceded them, armed with axes, knocking aside the flimsier
barricades as they went. He watched a group break into a small grocery
store to come out with bundles. They dragged out the storekeeper, his
wife, and young daughter, and pressed them into the middle of the
parade.

"If Security's so damned powerful, why doesn't it stop that?" he asked
bitterly.

Randolph grinned at him. "They might do it, Gordon. They just might. But
are you sure you want it stopped?"

"All right," Mother Corey said suddenly. "This is a social game,
cobbers."

Outside, the parade picked up enthusiasm as smaller gangs joined behind
the main one. There were a fair number of plain citizens who had been
impressed into it, too, judging by the appearance of little frightened
groups in the middle of the mobsters.

Gordon couldn't understand why the police hadn't at least been kept on
duty, until Honest Izzy came into the room. The little man found a chair
and bought chips silently; he looked tired.

"Vacation?" Mother Corey asked.

Izzy nodded. "Trench took forever giving it to us, Mother. But it's the
same old deal; all the police gees get tomorrow off--you, too, gov'nor.
No cops to influence the vote, that's the word. We even gotta wear
civvies when we go out to vote for Wayne."

Gordon looked down at the rioters, who were now only keeping up a
pretense of a parade. It would be worse tomorrow, he supposed; and there
would be no cops. The image of the old woman and her husband in the
little liquor store where he'd had his first experience came