at
today. And the first gee that gives trouble to the men who pay me gets a
knife where he eats. When I get paid for a job, I do the job."

Gordon watched him head down the block, and started after the little
man. Then he grimaced. Rule books! Even Izzy had one.

He went down the row, voting regularly. The Planters had things in
order. The mess had already been cleaned up when he arrived at the
cheaper end of the beat. It was the last place where he'd be expected to
do his duty by Wayne's administration; he waited in line.

Then a voice hit at his ears, and he looked up to see Sheila Corey only
two places in front of him. "Mrs. Mary Edelstein," she was saying. The
Wayne man nodded, and there was no protest. She picked up a Wayne
ballot, and dropped it in the box.

Then her eyes fell on Gordon. She hesitated for a second, bit her lips,
and finally moved out into the crowd.

He could see no sign of her as he stepped out a minute later, but the
back of his neck prickled.

He started out of the crowd, trying to act normal, but glancing down to
make sure the gun was in its proper position. Satisfied, he wheeled
suddenly and spotted her behind him, before she could slip out of sight.

Then a shout went up, yanking his eyes around with the rest of those
standing near. The eyes had centered on the alleys along the street, and
men were beginning to run wildly, while others were jerking out their
weapons. He saw a big gray car coming up the street; on its side was
painted the colors of the Planters. Now it swerved, hitting a siren
button.

But it was too late. Trucks shot out of the little alleys, jamming
forward through the people; there must have been fifty of them. One hit
the big gray car, tossing it aside. It was Trench himself who leaped
out, together with the driver. The trucks paid no attention, but bore
down on the crowd. From one of them, a machine gun opened fire.

Gordon dropped and began crawling in the only direction that was open,
straight toward the alleys from which the trucks had come. A few others
had tried that, but most were darting back as they saw the colors of
Nolan's Star Point gang on the trucks.

Other guns began firing; men were leaping from the trucks and pouring
into the mob of Planters, forcing their way toward the booth in the
center of the mess.

It was a beautifully timed surprise attack, and a well-armed one, even
though guns were supposed to be so rare here. Gordon stumbled into
s