rug it off as another
minor riot on property supposed to be protected by private police, and
do nothing about it. The rocket-attack on the top landing stage and
the spectacular explosion of the fireworks temporarily stored there,
however, was something that simply couldn't be concealed or dismissed.
The cloud of varicolored smoke alone must have been visible all over
the five original boroughs of the older New York, and there were
probably rumors of atom-bombing going around.

"What gets me," Slater, who must have been thinking about the same
thing, said to Cardon, "is where they got hold of those two
fighter-bombers. That kind of stuff isn't supposed to be in private
hands."

"A couple of hundred years ago, they had something they called the
Sullivan Law," Cardon told him. "Private citizens weren't even allowed
to own pistols. But the gangsters and hoodlums seemed to be able to
get hold of all the pistols they wanted, and burp guns, too. I know of
four or five racket gangs in this area that have aircraft like that,
based up in the Adirondacks, at secret fields. Anybody who has
connections with one of those gangs can order an air attack like this
on an hour's notice, if he's able to pay for it. What I can't
understand is the Independent-Conservatives doing anything like this.
The facts about this business will be all over the state before the
polls open tomorrow--" He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Come on;
let's have a look at those fellows who came down on the lift!"

There were two dead men in white Independent-Conservative robes and
hoods, lying where they had been dragged from the lift platform.
Cardon pulled off the hoods and zipped open the white robes. One of
the men was a complete stranger; the other, however, was a man he had
seen, earlier in the day, at the Manhattan headquarters of the
Radical-Socialist Party. One of the Consolidated Illiterates'
Organization people; a follower of West and Yingling.

"So that's how it was!" he said, straightening. "Now I get it! Let's
go see if any of those wounded goons are in condition to be
questioned."

* * * * *

Ray Pelton and Doug Yetsko had their heads out an open window on the
right side of the cab of the 'copter truck; Ray was pointing down.

"That roof, over there, looks like a good place to land," he said. "We
can get down the fire escape, and the hatch to the conveyor belt is
only half a block away."

Yetsko nodded. Ther