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Updated: May 8, 2025
One of the boys scouted ahead, and returned to report that they could reach the next conduit port, but that the section of both conveyor belts ahead of him was stopped, apparently wedged. Yetsko stood for a moment, grimacing in an effort to reach a decision. "I'd like to just go forward and hit them from behind," he said.
The instructor called a Literates' guard and gave him instructions. Yetsko went to the guards' squad room on the second floor, where he found half a dozen of the reserves loafing. "All right; you guys start earning your pay," he said. "We're going to a party." The men got to their feet and began gathering their weapons.
Incidentally, when I found out it was Callazo's gang that furnished those fighter bombers, I hired another mob to go up and drop a block-buster on Callazo's field, to teach him to keep his schnozzle out of politics." Lancedale nodded briskly. "That I approve of. How about West and Yingling?" "Prestonby's muscle man, Yetsko, killed West.
With the flashlight Yetsko had passed forward to him, Ray could see that the dust on the concrete floor of the three-foot by three-foot passage between and under the power and telephone cables was undisturbed. A little farther on, there was an opening on the left, and a power cable branched off downward, at a sharp angle, overhead.
Halfway to the next conduit port, there was a smear of lubricating oil on the concrete, and in it, and away from it in the direction of the store, they found footprints. It was Ramon Nogales who noticed the oil on the ladder to the next conduit port. "You stick here," Yetsko told him, "and when Mason and the others come up, hold them here.
And Doug Yetsko was his bodyguard, so most of the would-be assassins had died, also. The "North American Anthem," which had replaced the "Star-Spangled Banner" after the United States-Canadian-Mexican merger, came to an end.
Then came Yetsko, dragging the sleeping bag in which Chester Pelton was packed like a mummy. Prestonby himself followed, pushing on his future father-in-law's feet, and Claire crawled behind, with the rest of Ray's schoolmates for a rearguard.
"Ken Dorchin; Harry Cobb; Dick Hirschfield; Jerry McCarty; Ramon Nogales; Pete Shawne; Tom Hutchinson " "Who ?" Yetsko began. "What've they gotta do with ?" "We need a gang; the two of us'd last about as long as a pint of beer at a Dutch picnic." Ray went to the desk, grabbed a pen, and made a list of names, in a fair imitation of Ralph Prestonby's neat block-printing.
Yetsko was reaching up to lock the door of his cubicle; he seemed surprised at Prestonby's obtuseness. "Day before election; the little darlings' moms and pops don't want them out running around. We can look for another big crowd tomorrow, too." Prestonby gave a snort of disgust. "Of course; how imbecilic can I really get?
He'd been in conspiratorial work of other kinds, and knew that there was a sound psychological basis for most of what seemed, at first glance, to be mere melodramatic claptrap. He and Yetsko passed on through a door across the room, into another sound-proofed room.
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