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There's no other outlet for it, so my guess is that they're holding it for a rise in price. There's only one way that could happen, and that, literally, would be over Steve Ravick's dead body. It could be that they expect Steve's dead body to be around for a price rise to come in over." I was expecting Dad to begin spouting law-and-order.
We were all in the social room; a couple of the men had poured drinks or drawn themselves beers at the bar and rung up no sale on the cash register. Somebody else had a box of cigars he'd picked up in Ravick's quarters on the fourth floor and was passing them around. Joe and about two or three hundred other hunters came crowding up the escalator, which they had turned on below.
"But you can't measure everything in barrels of whale oil. Or skins of tallow-wax." Which was one of those perfectly true statements which are also perfectly meaningless. I gave up. My job's to get the news, not to make it. I wondered if that meant anything, either. They finally got the mob sorted out, after a lot of time wasted in pillaging Ravick's living quarters on the fourth floor.
Then the rest of us can make a quick rush and take Hunters' Hall." "We'll have to keep our main force around Hunters' Hall while we're demonstrating at the Municipal Building," Corkscrew Finnegan said. "We can't take a chance on Ravick's getting away." "I couldn't care less whether he gets away or not," Oscar said. "I don't want Steve Ravick's blood.
Joe's opinions are all collapsium-plated and impervious to outside influence. I got Bish off to one side as we were going into the editorial room. "How did you get onto it?" I asked. He chuckled deprecatingly. "No trick at all," he said. "I just circulated and bought drinks for people. The trouble with Ravick's gang, it's an army of mercenaries.
"They've all lammed out. The place is empty." "You don't know that," Oscar chided. "It might be bulging with Ravick's thugs, waiting for us to come walking up and be mowed down." Possible. Highly improbable, though, I thought. The escalators weren't running, and we weren't going to alert any hypothetical ambush by starting them.
"Lucky guy; he can get around on his feet, and I'll bet he isn't starving, either. You know, speaking about food, I'm going to feel like a cannibal eating carniculture meat, now. My whole back's carniculture." He filled his mouth with whatever it was they were feeding him and asked, through it: "Did I miss Steve Ravick's hanging?" I was horrified. "Haven't these people told you anything?"
What's this Walt's picked up about Ravick sending equipment to fight the fire?" he yelled. Dad came over, and nodded. "It wasn't Ravick, it was Mort Hallstock. He commandeered the Co-op equipment and sent it up," he said. "He called me and wanted to know whom to send for it that Ravick's gang wouldn't start shooting at right away. Casmir Oughourlian sent some of his men."
They'll do anything for the price of a drink, and as long as my rich uncle stays solvent, I always have the price of a drink. In the five years I've spent in this Garden Spot of the Galaxy, I've learned some pretty surprising things about Steve Ravick's operations."
Ravick's living quarters were there, and they were magnificently luxurious. The hunters, whose money had paid for all that magnificence and luxury, cursed. There were no bodies there, either, or on the landing stage above. I unhooked the radio again. "You can come in, now," I said. "The place is empty. Nobody here but us Vigilantes." "Huh?" Joe couldn't believe that. "How'd they get out?"
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