Down and get up on the catwalk on the right," Bish
said. "I'll be along to pick you up."

"Roger. We'll be looking for you."

The car stopped at Second Level Down. I punched a button and sent it
down another level. Joe Kivelson, who was dabbing at his cheek with a
piece of handkerchief tissue, wanted to know what was up.

"We're getting a pickup," I told him. "Vehicle from the _Times_."

I thought it would save arguments if I didn't mention who was bringing
it.

6

ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR KIVELSON

Before we left the lighted elevator car, we took a quick nose count.
Besides the Kivelsons, there were five _Javelin_ men--Ramon Llewellyn,
Abdullah Monnahan, Abe Clifford, Cesario Vieira, and a whitebeard
named Piet Dumont. Al Devis had been with us when we crashed the door
out of the meeting room, but he'd fallen by the way. We had a couple
of flashlights, so, after sending the car down to Bottom Level, we
picked our way up the zigzag iron stairs to the catwalk, under the
seventy-foot ceiling, and sat down in the dark.

Joe Kivelson was fretting about what would happen to the rest of his
men.

"Fine captain I am, running out and leaving them!"

"If they couldn't keep up, that's their tough luck," Oscar Fujisawa
told him. "You brought out all you could. If you'd waited any longer,
none of us would have gotten out."

"They won't bother with them," I added. "You and Tom and Oscar, here,
are the ones they want."

Joe was still letting himself be argued into thinking he had done the
right thing when we saw the lights of a lorry coming from uptown at
ceiling level. A moment later, it backed to the catwalk, and Bish Ware
stuck his head out from the pilot's seat.

"Where do you gentlemen wish to go?" he asked.

"To the _Javelin_," Joe said instantly.

"Huh-uh," Oscar disagreed. "That's the first place they'll look.
That'll be all right for Ramon and the others, but if they catch you
and Tom, they'll shoot you and call it self-defense, or take you in
and beat both of you to a jelly. This'll blow over in fifteen or
twenty hours, but I'm not going anywhere near my ship, now."

"Drop us off on Second Level Down, about Eighth Street and a couple of
blocks from the docks," the mate, Llewellyn, said. "We'll borrow some
weapons from Patel the Pawnbroker and then circulate around and see
what's going on. But you and Joe and Oscar had better go underground
for a while."

"The _Times_," I said. "We have a whole pill