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course. But several hundred escaped. There's a pitched battle going on in
Jersey this minute. The juves will die as soon as I give the mobilization
order. A few may get away and start in other cities, inciting riot, pulling
down what we've built so carefully to ensure everyone a decent life. Both TTIC
and G/S are alerting industrial guards for trouble such as this. We'll also
have to apply considerable pressure for the DOCs to move. But we'll win. We
gave up war long ago, Fin. We won't permit another to start."
"The creeps had knives!" Pushkyn bellowed. "Real knives! You stupid, did
you-?"
"I think so," Finian looked up. "I hope so."
Again Sprool sighed, almost sympathetically.
"Fin, Fin. You seem to think we're evil men. We're not. We're businessmen. We
didn't begin the system. We only inherited it. But you've never understood,
have you? Always, I think, you resented us as a result of what your father,
taught you. " Sprool was white now, impassioned. "We had no choice! Either we
maintained calm or-"
"You changed Dolly! I don't understand your theories beyond that!
Sprool outshouted him: "The alternative to a rocked boat is chaos!"
"There's got to be another way."
"Go to the guard post! See the mangled bodies and then say that."
"I don't care, Sprool! I'm taking Dolly off the island."
"Creep, you won't set one foot from here."
Finian peeled his lips back.
"Look at the tooth, Lyman. You know what was there before." He waggled his
left foot. "I'm bombed. The tooth will set it off. Either instantaneously or
on timed delay. Stop me from walking out with Dolly and find out."
"Salinghams wanted my portrait-" the florid old gentleman began.
"Bluffer! Lousy, rotten bluffer!" Screaming, Pushkyn rushed forward.
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Sprool's hand flew up.
"Don't! I believe him."
For the first time Finian Smith saw Sprool perspiring.
"He's the kind to do it, Pushkyn. I don't want slaughter here, too. So you
keep quiet and remember who's senior troubleshooter."
Cold, shrewd lights glittered in Sprool's eyes. "Fin, what guarantee can you
offer if we release this woman to you, allow her to go with you under duress?"
"No." Heads swung, startled. Dolly went on slowly:
"I think-I want-"
A disgusted sigh came from Sprool's lips. He controlled himself. "Very well,
Fin. If we permit you to leave, what guarantees do you offer that you'll cause
no further trouble? We'll have our hands full quelling the disturbances the
juves will start. It hasn't got too far out of hand yet. But if I don't give
the mobilization order, it could go nationwide. Even to other countries. I
have to be around to stop it. It can be done, even though I don't much like
removing the velvet glove.
"Guarantees?" said Finian. "My word. That's all."
Sprool walked quickly to the door and opened it. The threatening knot of
industrial police still waited in the shadows. Finian bundled Dolly into the
bedclothes and moved her toward the entrance as Sprool said, "Let him pass."
"I won't stand for it!" Pushkyn leaped forward and landed a solid one that
rocked Finian on his heels. Then Sprool snapped his fingers. The TTIC police
carried the foam-lipped Pushkyn into the dispensary.
Trembling, suddenly cold and trembling clear through, Finian made an effort to
keep his face an inflexible mask as he guided Dolly through the aisle between
the guards. He hoped she wouldn't question him, wouldn't relent until they
were free. Sick fear engulfed him as he touched the tip of his tongue gingerly
to the fake tooth while the tube shot down.
Dolly leaned on his shoulder, her hair warm. She made frightened mewing
sounds. Finian shepherded her into the night, began the long, terrible walk to
the Tunnel, hoping she wouldn't come to her senses until they reached the
opposite shore. In time she'd be herself again. That much he could give her
even if his search had been all for nothing.
The DOC post at the Tunnel entrance was afire. Juve corpses sprawled
everywhere.
Midway along the empty tunnel Finian halted. A figure capered toward them.
"Capital, oh, marvelous!" Humphrey Cove trilled, stepping over a dead DOC's
openmouthed head. "Three hundred of them got out, running for their lives. I
think it will spread this time. The local camps, the jobless-full-scale! There
are so many really lovely pockets of resistance!"
"Shut up and walk." Finian pushed Cove back toward the Jersey side .
"What in heaven's name is wrong with you, Smith?"
"Armed." Finian whispered it so Dolly couldn't hear. "A guy hit me, I'm armed.
Can't have more than half an hour before I blow. Cove, don't you say anything.
When we're outside, you take care of this girl, understand? Watch out for her
until she recovers. She's free of them, I bought her that much."
They passed a shrilling visorphone in a lighted kiosk at the far Tunnel mouth.
A DOC alert was being scheduled for Philadelphia. Juve gangs were forming in
the streets there, handmade knives were appearing. The mask was off. Full
mobilization of combined TTIC and G/S industrial police was being ordered by
Sprool. Cove clapped his hands.
Rain was falling as Finian led Dolly out of the Tunnel. Three DOC vertijets
from the south were homing on Manhattan, agleam with emergency lights. Dolly
murmured. Finian lifted her chin and stared into the doll-blue eyes a moment,
conscious of the bomb working, working toward detonation in the flesh of his
foot. He couldn't even feel the death seed. Wasn't that a joke?
"Cove'll take care of you," Finian said. He kissed her. Bewildered, Dolly
called for him as he turned and walked rapidly away, not seeing the rain or
the littered bodies.
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He had gone but a dozen steps when something felled him and brought the dark.
Pain, incredible pain was his first sensation.
Then a warmth of flesh. Dolly bending over him. Through a slatted section of
solido panel he saw vertijets winking over Manhattan. Finian wriggled, then
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