Police Your Planet | Page 9

nor rich enough to have
major rackets of its own.
Izzy was disgusted. "Cripes! Hope they've got a few cheap pushers

around that don't pay protection direct to the captain. You take that
store; I'll go in this one!"
The proprietor was a druggist who ran his own fountain where the
synthetics that replaced honest Earth foods were compounded into
sweet and sticky messes for the neighborhood kids. He looked up as
Gordon came in; then his face fell. "New cop, eh? No wonder Gable
collected yesterday, ahead of time. All right, you can look at my books.
I've been paying fifty, but you'll have to wait until Friday."
Gordon nodded and swung on his heel, surprised to find that his
stomach was turning. The man obviously couldn't afford fifty credits a
week. But it was the same all along the street. Even Izzy admitted
finally that they'd have to wait.
"That damned cop before us! He really tapped them! And we can't take
less, so I guess we gotta wait until Friday."
* * * * *
The next day, Bruce Gordon made his first arrest. It was near the end of
his shift, just as darkness was falling and the few lights were going on.
He turned a corner and came to a short, heavy hoodlum backing out of
a small liquor store with a knife in throwing position. The crook
grunted as he started to turn and stumbled onto Gordon. His knife
flashed up.
Without the need to worry about an airsuit, Gordon moved in, his arm
jerking forward. He clipped the crook on the inside of the elbow, while
grabbing the wrist with his other hand. The man went sailing over
Gordon's head, to crash into the side of the building. He let out a yell.
Gordon rifled the hood's pockets, and located a roll of bills stuffed in.
He dragged them out, before snapping cuffs on the man. Then he pulled
the crook inside the store.
A woman stood there, moaning over a pale man on the floor; blood
oozed from a welt on the back of his head. There was both gratitude

and resentment as she looked up at Gordon.
"You'd better call the hospital," he told her sharply. "He may have a
concussion. I've got the man who held you up."
"Hospital?" Her voice broke into another wail. "And who can afford
hospitals? All week we work, all hours. He's old, he can't handle the
cases. I do that. Me! And then you come, and you get your money. And
he comes for his protection. Papa is sick. Sick, do you hear? He sees a
doctor, he buys medicine. Then Gable comes. This man comes. We
can't pay him! So what do we get--we get knifes in the faces, saps on
the head--a concussion, you tell me! And all the money--the money we
had to pay to get stocks to sell to pay off from the profits we don't
make--all of it, he wants! Hospitals! You think they give away at the
hospitals free?"
She fell to her knees, crying over the injured man.
Gordon tossed the roll of bills onto the floor beside her; the injury
seemed only a scalp wound, and the old man was already beginning to
groan. He opened his eyes and saw the bills in front of him, at which
the woman was staring unbelievingly. His hand darted out, clutching it.
"God!" he moaned softly, and his eyes turned up slowly to Gordon.
"In there!" It was a shout from outside. Gordon had just time to
straighten up before the doorway was filled with two knife-men and a
heavier one behind them.
His hands dropped to the handcuffed man on the floor, and he caught
him up with a jerk, slapping his body back against the counter. He took
a step forward, jerking his hands up and putting his Earth-adapted
shoulders behind it. The hood sailed up and struck the two knife-men
squarely.
There was a scream as their automatic attempts to save themselves
buried both knives in the body of their friend. Then they went crashing
down, and Gordon was over them.

* * * * *
The desk captain at the precinct house groaned as they came in, then
shook his head. "Damn it," he said. "I suppose it can't be helped,
though; you're new, Gordon. Hennessy, get the corpse to the morgue,
and mark it down as a robbery attempt. I'm going to have to book you
and your men, Mr. Jurgens!"
The heavy leader of the two angry knife-men grinned. "Okay, Captain.
But it's going to slow down the work I'm doing on the Mayor's
campaign for re-election! Damn that Maxie--I told him to be discreet.
Hey, you know what you've got, though--a real considerate man! He