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"There is too," it said impatiently. "It's at 225 East Lindon, Topeka."
"You're not trying to sell it?"
"I'm giving it to you, baby. Did you get it? 225 East Lindon Drive, Topeka, Kansas." The caller hung up.
Jerryberiy flopped back on the bed. He was tired. It could be a gag. Topeka, Kansas. Who would be telling Jerryberry Jansen about it? Jerryberry's beat was Los Angeles.
Oh, well. He heaved himself upright and called the police.
The Topeka police were spending all their time answering the phone. "We know," said Detective Sergeant Hirohito. "That's the same address he gave everyone. Thank you for calling; we're already on it." He hung up. "Another one. Los Angeles. He must have called every newscaster in the country."
"God, I hope not, They won't all keep their mouths shut. We've got to have time to check this out."
Hirohito drummed his fingers on the desk. "There's only one way to get it. We'll have to put the whole area under riot control."
"What? No. If it's a false alarm, we could get sued for obstructing business! There are a lot of mail order houses in the area, not to mention a messenger service—"
"Calm down, Jack. Now we both know this is going to hit the news sooner or later, probably about now. What's going to happen then?"
Jack Shorter gri
"It'll be the first time we ever put the riot control on before the riot started. The newstapers'll probably call it the Riot Club Riot."
Most of the news programs reported the incident along with a bulletin from the Topeka Police Force. We have not yet had time to erect barricades, and the suspects could be armed. We strongly advise citizens to stay out of the affected area …
"They always say that," CBA's commentator, Wash Evans, told his audience. "But you never pay any attention. This time they mean it. There's no telling what kind of weaponry a Looters' Club might have picked up in the last ten years. We know they've raided a few sporting goods stores in there, and there have been a few shoot-outs. Do not go to see the riot. You get a better view on teevee."
Nobody paid any attention.
Central Riot Control. The theory was simple enough. You divided all of the municipal areas in' the United States into areas of approximately four blocks by four blocks. Outside the cities the areas were far bigger, the flash crowds far less likely. When a flash crowd gathered, there were switches at the police stations that would affect all of the displacement booths in one or more riot control areas. With riot control going, the booths in the area would not admit incoming passengers except from the police stations. They would send only to the huge Central Riot Control Building in Nebraska.
The Permanent Floating Riot Club kept maps of most of the riot control areas in the country. There were tens of thousands of them, and they were stored in an expensive computer on the third floor of the Club.
In simple curiosity, Be
He was going to regret that bit of cleverness.
Be
This area hadn't changed much over the past decade. In fact, that was true of most municipal areas. The new buildings were all going up in rural and desert areas, where men could work and live with more elbow room and prettier scenery than their city cousins, without sacrificing anything in the way of mobility. Here in the civic center the buildings just sat there growing older: brick and concrete darkening with smog, small buildings growing grimy. The people were generally older too. Be
As he crossed an intersection Be
He entered Lou Garcia's apartment building and rang Garcia's bell in the lobby.
It seemed pretty well foolproof at this stage. If Garcia wasn't home, then he was either at the Club or elsewhere. If lie was at the Club, they'd hold him. If he was somewhere else, he wouldn't be able to flick in. The cops must have put this area under riot control by now. In either case, Be
"Yah?" The intercom.
"Be
Hesitation. Then, "Sure. Come on up." The main door buzzed open.
Well, he was home, and it was going to be a little sticky. It would still work out. Lou couldn't flick out now even if he got past Be
Be
"Just a minute," Lou Garcia sang out from inside.
Be
He mumbled words under his breath, rehearsing what amounted to a speech. "Someone blew the whistle on us," he would say... "Someone gave the cops the Club address. I'll tell them it was you. Hell, they'll probably figure that out for themselves. You're the only one who had anything to gain. I'll tell them you were ru
"A third of the treasury, and we just wait till riot control goes off. Then we flick out in separate directions. Dial at random, settle wherever we land, live on the money the rest of our lives. Who could find us?"
It was taking Garcia a long time.
Be
He wasn't in either bathroom. He wasn't in the kitchen or on the balcony. Be
So. Lou had gotten out. (How? There was only the one door.) Which left Be
Be
If the cops found Be