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Cops come up, an' our pertickeler copper'll lug Langd'n away as a witness, refusin' to believe 'e's a Senator. I kin arrange to hev him kept in the cooler a couple o' hours without gettin' any word out, or I'll hev 'im entered up as drunk an' disorderly. He'll look drunk, he'll be so mad."
If anybody goofed getting her down, she'd take the side of the landing pit out, and about ten per cent of the population of Fenris, including the ace reporter for the Times, along with it. At the same time, some workmen and a couple of spaceport cops had appeared, taken out a section of railing and put in a gate.
The shock was genuine, too, now. "Have the police any idea ?" "Not the foggiest. If some of the Fleming pistols turn up at his place, I might think that had something to do with it. So far, though, they haven't. I gave the shop a once-over-lightly before the cops arrived, and couldn't find anything." She tried to take a puff from her cigarette and found that she had broken it in her fingers.
Sidney Prale hurled him backward, rushed, caught him up again in a better hold, threw him back against the building, and held him there, breathless and panting. "Another smash out of you, and I'll drop you into the river myself!" Prale said. "Suppose you take time to get your breath now." "I I thought you was a cop." "Afraid of the cops?" "It's against the law to to try to commit suicide."
It hung below the clouds in parts, and I could see it through the bottom of the clouds in the middle; it was a silvery teacup upside down, a hemisphere over everything. It hadn't been there two minutes before. I heard firing coming closer and closer. Around a corner a bunch of cops came, running, turning, firing; running, turning and firing again.
The bunting in front of the booths was pulled off, and the lines began to move. Izzy led the way to the one at the rich end of their beat, and moved toward the head of the line. "Cops," he said to the six mobsters who surrounded the booth. "We got territory to cover." A thumb indicated that they could go in. Murdoch remained outside, and one of the thugs reached for him. Izzy cut him off.
We started over to the gate. Hallstock and Ravick were ahead of us. So was Sigurd Ngozori, the president of the Fidelity & Trust, carrying a heavy briefcase and accompanied by a character with a submachine gun, and Adolf Lautier and Professor Hartzenbosch. There were a couple of spaceport cops at the gate, in olive-green uniforms that looked as though they had been sprayed on, and steel helmets.
Wayne, Arliss, and the rest of the administration had counted on self-interest holding most of the cops loyal to them. They'd been wrong. Legal forces already controlled about half the city. "So?" Gordon asked. He could have told Trench that the fund was good-enough reason for most police deserting. Trench put his coffee down and yelled for more. It was obvious he'd spent the night without sleep.
His crooked sixpence will fill many an eye, and the more he spiels the better it is for you. Gee, but you're yellow for a two-hundred pounder! Now, listen! Make those cops drop all charges against Rachel. Then, in a week or less, I'll come along and fix things about the girl. She's the fly in the amber now. Mind she doesn't get out, or the howl about Mr.
"Here I am with the responsibility of keeping ten pounds of other people's money safely, while Holmes cops all the limelight!" "Cheer up, Watson, old boy," said Holmes. "Here, have a cigarette!
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