Police Your Planet Part 13

The idea of Marsport rebelling against Earth seemed ridiculous. Even with guns, they wouldn't have a chance if Earth sent a force of any strength to back Security. But it was the only explanation.

Gordon took the next day off to look for Sheila Corey, but n.o.body would admit having seen her.

He had seen crowds beginning to a.s.semble all afternoon, but had paid no attention to them. Now he found the way back to Corey's blocked by a mob. Then he saw that the object of it all was the First Marsport Bank.

It was only toward that that the shaking fists were raised. Gordon managed to get onto a pile of rubble where he could see over the crowd.

The doors of the bank were locked shut, but men were attacking it with an improvised battering ram. As he watched, a pompous little man came to the upper window over the door and began motioning for attention. The crowd quieted almost at once, except for a single yell. "When do we get our money?"

"Please. Please." The voice reached back thinly as the bank president got his silence. "Please. It won't do you any good. Not a bit. We're broke. Not a cent left! And don't go blaming me. _I_ didn't start the rush. Your friends did that. They took all the money, and now we're cleaned out. You can't--"

A rope rose from the crowd and settled around him. In a second, he was pulled down, and the crowd surged forward.

Gordon dropped from the rubble, staring at the bank. He'd played it safe this time--he'd put his money away, to make sure he'd have it!

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and he turned to see Mother Corey.

"That's the way a panic is, cobber," the man said. "There's a run, then everything is ruined. I tried to get you when I first heard the rumor, but you were gone. And when this starts, a man has to get there first."

He patted his side, where a bulge showed. "And I just made it, too."

The mob was beginning to break up now, but it was still in an ugly mood.

"But what started it?"

"Rumors that Mayor Wayne got a big loan from the bank--and why not, seeing it was his bank! n.o.body had to guess that he'd never pay it back, so--"

Gordon found Izzy organizing the bouncers from the joints and some of the citizens into a squad. Every joint was closed down tightly already.

Gordon began organizing his own squad.

Izzy slipped over as he began to get them organized. "If we hold past midnight, we'll be set, gov'nor," he said. "They go crazy for a while, but give 'em a few hours and they stop most of it. I figure you know where all the scratch went?"

"Sure--guns from Earth! The d.a.m.ned fools!"

"Yeah. But not fools. Just b.l.o.o.d.y well-informed, gov'nor. Earth's sending a fleet--got official word of it. No way of telling how big, but it's coming."

It gave Gordon something to think about while they patrolled the beat.

But he had enough for a time without that. The mobs left the section alone, apparently scared off by the organized group ready and waiting for them. But every street and alley had to be kept under constant surveillance to drive out the angry, desperate men who were trying to get something to hang onto before everything collapsed. He saw stores being broken into, beyond his beat; and brawls as one drunken, crazed crowd met another. But he kept to his own territory, knowing that there was nothing he could do beyond it.

By midnight, as Izzy had promised, the people had begun to quiet down, however. The anger and hysteria were giving way to a sullen, beaten hopelessness.

Honest Izzy finally seemed satisfied to turn things over to the regular night men. Gordon waited around a while longer, but finally headed back to Mother Corey's place.

Mother Corey put a cup of steaming coffee into his hands. "You look worse than I do, cobber. Worse than even that granddaughter of mine. She was looking for you!"

"Sheila?" Gordon jerked the word out.

"Yeah. She left a note for you. I put it up in your room." Mother Corey chuckled. "Why don't you two get married and make your fighting legal?"

"Thanks for the coffee," Gordon threw back at him. He was already mounting the stairs.

He tossed his door open and found the letter on his bed.

"I'd rather go to Wayne," it said, "but I need money. If you want the rest of this, you've got until three tonight to make an offer. If you can find me, maybe I'll listen."

The torn-off front cover of the notebook accompanied the letter. But it was a quarter after three already, he was practically broke--and he had no idea where she could be found.

Chapter X

MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

Bruce Gordon jerked the door open to yell for Izzy while he tucked the bit of notebook cover into his pocket. Then he stopped as something nibbled at his mind; the odor Gordon had smelled before registered. He yanked out the bit of notebook and sniffed. It hadn't been close enough for any length of time to be contaminated by Mother Corey, so the smell could only come from one place.

He checked the batteries on his suit and put it on quickly. There was no point in wearing the helmet inside the dome, but it was better than trying to rent one at the lockers. He buckled it to a strap. The knife slid into its sheath, and the gun holster snapped onto the suit. As a final thought, he picked up the stout locust stick he'd used under Murdoch.

There were no cabs outside tonight, of course. The streets were almost deserted, except for some prowler or desperation-driven drug addict. He proceeded cautiously, however, realizing that it would be just like Sheila to ambush him. But he reached the exit from the dome with no trouble.

"Special pa.s.s to leave at this hour," the guard there reminded him. "Of course, if it's urgent, pal..."

Gordon was in no mood to try bribes. He let his hand drop to the gun.

"Police Sergeant Gordon, on official business," he said curtly. "Get the h.e.l.l out of my way."

The guard thought it over, and reached for the release. Gordon swung back as he pa.s.sed through. "And you'd better be ready to open when I come back."

He was in comparative darkness almost at once, and tonight there was no sign of the lights of patrolling cops. Then three specks of glaring blue light suddenly appeared in the sky, jerking his eyes up. They were dropping rapidly.

Rockets that flamed bright blue--military rockets! Earth was finally taking a hand!

He crouched in a hollow that had once been some kind of a bas.e.m.e.nt until the ships had landed and cut off their jets. Then he stood up, blinking his eyes until they could again make out the pattern of the dim bulbs.

He'd seen enough by the rocket glare to know that he was headed right.

And finally the ugly half-cylinder of patched brick and metal that was the old Mother Corey's Chicken Coop showed up against the faint light.

He moved in cautiously, as silently as he could, and located the semi-secret entrance to the building without meeting anyone. Once in the tunnel that led to the building, he felt a little safer.

He removed his helmet, and strapped it to the back of his suit, out of the way. The old hall was in worse shape than before. Mother Corey had run a somewhat orderly place, with constant vigilance; Bruce Gordon could never have come into the hallway without being seen in the old days.

Then a pounding sound came from the second floor, 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 m.u.f.fled voice shrilled out a fog of profanity. He grinned, and then saw that he'd lifted his foot to a higher step.