and Gordon drew back
into the denser shadows, staring upwards. A heavy voice picked up the
exchange of shouts.

"You, Sheila, you come outa there! You come right out or I'm gonna blast
that there door down. You open up."

Gordon was already moving up the stairs when a second voice reached him,
and this one was familiar. "Jurgens don't want _you_; all he wants is
this place--we got use for it. It don't belong to you, anyhow! Come out
now, and we'll let you go peaceful. Or stay in there and we'll blast you
out--in pieces."

It was the voice of Jurgens' henchman who had called on Mother Corey
before elections. The thick voice must belong to the big ape who'd been
with him.

"Come on out," the little man cried again. "You don't have a chance.
We've already chased all your boarders out!"

Gordon tried to remember which steps had creaked the worst, but he
wasn't too worried, if there were only two of them. Then his head
projected above the top step, and he hesitated. Only the rat and the ape
were standing near a heavy, closed door. But four others were lounging
in the background. He lifted his foot to put it back down to a lower
step, just as Sheila's muffled voice shrilled out a fog of profanity. He
grinned, and then saw that he'd lifted his foot to a higher step.

There was a sharp yell from one of the men in the background and a knife
sailed for him, but the aim was poor. Gordon's gun came out. Two of the
men were dropping before the others could reach for their own weapons,
and while the rat-faced man was just turning. The third dropped without
firing, and the fourth's shot went wild. Gordon was firing rapidly, but
not with such a stupid attempt at speed that he couldn't aim each shot.
And at that distance, it was hard to miss.

Rat-face jerked back behind the big hulk of his partner, trying to pull
a gun that seemed to be stuck; a scared man's ability to get his gun
stuck in a simple holster was always amazing. The big guy simply lunged,
with his hands out.

Gordon side-stepped and caught one of the arms, swinging the huge body
over one hip. It sailed over the broken railing, to land on the floor
below and crash through the rotten planking. He heard the man hit the
basement, even while he was swinging the club in his hand toward the
rat-faced man.

There was a thin, high-pitched scream as a collarbone broke. He slumped
onto the floor, and began to try hitching his way down the steps. Gordon
picked up the gun