a four-clawed grapple,
shielded in front with sheet steel like a gun shield. It was painted
with the emblem of the Hunters' Co-operative, but the three men on it
looked like shipyard workers. I didn't get that, at all. The thing had
been built to handle burning wax, and was one of three kept on the
Second Level Down under Hunters' Hall. I wondered if Bish Ware had
found a way for a gang to get in at the bottom of Hunters' Hall. I
simply couldn't see Steve Ravick releasing equipment to fight the fire
his goons had started for him in the first place.

I let down a few feet, gave a polite little scream with my siren, and
then yelled down to the men on it:

"Where'd that thing come from?"

"Hunters' Hall; Steve Ravick sent it. The other two are up at the fire
already, and if this mess ahead doesn't get straightened out...." From
there on, his remarks were not suitable for publication in a family
journal like the _Times_.

I looked up ahead, rising to the ceiling again, and saw what was the
matter. It was one of the dredgers from the waterfront, really a
submarine scoop shovel, that they used to keep the pools and the inner
channel from sanding up. I wasn't surprised it was jammed; I couldn't
see how they'd gotten this far uptown with it. I got a few shots of
that, and then unhooked the handphone of my radio. Julio Kubanoff
answered.

"You getting everything I'm sending in?" I asked.

"Yes. What's that two-em-dashed thing up ahead, one of the harbor
dredgers?"

"That's right. Hey, look at this, once." I turned the audiovisual down
on the claw derrick. "The men on it look like Rodriguez &
Oughourlian's people, but they say Steve Ravick sent it. What do you
know about it?"

"Hey, Ralph! What's this Walt's picked up about Ravick sending
equipment to fight the fire?" he yelled.

Dad came over, and nodded. "It wasn't Ravick, it was Mort Hallstock.
He commandeered the Co-op equipment and sent it up," he said. "He
called me and wanted to know whom to send for it that Ravick's gang
wouldn't start shooting at right away. Casmir Oughourlian sent some of
his men."

Up front, something seemed to have given way. The dredger went
lurching forward, and everything moved off after it.

"I get it," I said. "Hallstock's getting ready to dump Ravick out the
airlock. He sees, now, that Ravick's a dead turkey; he doesn't want to
go into the oven along with him."

"Walt, can't you ever give anybody credit with trying to do someth