uvium hit his nose, and Gordon turned to see Mother
Corey's huge bulk waddling down the hall. The old man nodded. "We
thought you'd gone on the lam, cobber. But I guess, since Trench brought
you back, you've cooled. Good, good. As a respectable man now, I
couldn't have stashed you from the cops--though I might have been
tempted--mighty tempted." His face was melancholy. "Tell me, lad, did
they get Murdoch?"

Bruce Gordon nodded, and the old man sighed. Something suspiciously like
a tear glistened in his eyes.

"I thought you were taking a bath," Gordon commented.

The old man chuckled. "Fate's against me, cobber. With all the shooting,
some punk put a bullet clean through the wall and the plastic of the
tub. Fifty gallons of water, all wasted!"

He turned back toward the end of the hall, sighing again. Gordon went up
the stairs, noticing that Izzy's door was open. The little man was
stretched out on the bunk in his clothes, filthy; one side of his face
swollen.

"Hi, gov'nor," he called out, his voice still cheerful. "I had odds
you'd beat the ticket, though the Mother and me were worried there for a
while. How'd you grease the fix?"

Gordon sketched it in, without mentioning Security. "What happened to
you, Izzy?"

"Price of being honest. But the gees who paid me protection didn't get
hurt, gov'nor." He winced, then grinned. "So they pay double tomorrow.
Honesty pays, gov'nor, if you squeeze it once in a while ... Funny, you
making sergeant; I thought two other gees won the lottery."

So the promotion _had_ come from Trench! It bothered him. When a turkey
sees corn on the menu, it's time to wonder about Thanksgiving.

* * * * *

Collections were good all week--probably as a result of Izzy's actions.
Even after he arranged to pay his income tax, and turned over his
"donation" to the fund, Gordon was well ahead for the first time since
he'd landed here.

He had become almost superstitious about the way he was always left with
no more than a hundred credits in his pockets. This time, he stripped
himself to that sum at once, depositing the rest in the First Marsport
Bank. Maybe it would break the jinx.

They were one of the few teams in the Seventh Precinct to make full
quota. Trench was lavish in his praise. He was playing more than fair
with Bruce Gordon now, but there was a basic suspicion in his eyes.

The next day, he drafted Izzy and Gordon for a trip outside the dome.