"Hurry up! I can't hold these guys off by myself!"

I wasn't sure I could get up if I wanted to, but at this point I was willing to abandon any hopes of a non-violent solution to our problems. Propping myself up on one elbow, I reached out with my mind, grabbed a garbage can, and sent it sailing through the gang's formation.

"What the . . ."

"Look out!"

If they wanted physical, I'd give it to them. I mentally grabbed two more trash cans and sent them into the fray, keeping all three flying back and forth in the narrow confines of the alley.

"Cripes! I'm on your side! Remember?'' the street vendor cried, ducking under one of my missiles.

I summoned up a little more energy and threw a ward over the two of us. Somehow, I didn't think anyone had thought to use their anti-magik stuff on a garbage can.

A few more swings with the old trash cans, and it was all over.

Heaving a ragged breath, I dropped the ward and brought my makeshift weapons to a halt. Pour of my attackers lay 119.

sprawled on the ground, and the other two had apparently taken to their heels.

"Nice work, Skeeve," Kalvin crowed, appearing from wherever it was he had taken cover when the fracas started.

' 'Are you all right, Mr. Skeeve?'' the street vendor asked, extending a hand to help me to my feet.

"I think so... yes... thanks to you ... J.R., isn't it?"

"That's right. I was walkin' home when I saw these jokers pilin' into you. It looked a little uneven, so I thought I'd lend a hand. Cheez! I didn 't know you wuz a magician!''

"A mighty grateful magician right now," I s'aid, digging into my pocket. "Here, take this. Consider it my way of saying thank you."

"Excuse me," the Djin drawled, "but didn't we just get into this whole brawl so you could keep your money?"

He needn't have worried. J.R. recoiled from the gold as if I had offered him poison.

"I didn't help you for money!" he said through tight lips. "I know you don't mean . . . Cripes! All you rich guys are the same. You think your money . . . Look! I work for my money, see! I ain't no b.u.m lookin' for a handout!"

With that he spun on his heel and marched away, leaving me with an outstretched hand full of gold.

It would have been a beautiful exit, if the alley hadn't suddenly been blocked by a vehicle pulling in ... a vehicle with blue and red flashing lights on top.

Chapter Thirteen:.

"Who? Me, Officer?"

-J. DILLINGER "I STILL DON'T see why we should be detained."

It seemed like hours that we had been at the police station, we being myself, J.R., and, of course, Kalvin, though the police seemed unaware of the latter's existence and I, in turn, was disinclined to tell them. Despite our protests, we had been transported here shortly after the police had arrived.

The thugs had been revived and placed in a separate vehicle, though I noticed they were handled far less gently than we were. Still, it was small consolation to being held against our will.

"You don't? Well, then we'll have to go over it all again slowly and see if you can get a hint."

This was spoken by the individual who had been conduct- ing our interrogation since we arrived. From the deferential way the other policemen treated him, I a.s.sumed he was a ranking officer of some sort. He possessed bad breath, a foul disposition, and what seemed to be an endless tolerance 121.

122 for repet.i.tion. As he launched into his oration, I fought an impulse to chant along with the now-familiar words.

"We could charge you with Being Drunk in Public."

"I'm stone cold sober," I interrupted, thanking my lucky stars for Kalvin's a.s.sistance. "If you don't believe it, test me."

"There are a lot of witnesses who said you were falling down drunk in the bar."

"I tripped over a chair."

"Then there's the minor matter of a.s.sault . . ."

"I keep telling you, they attacked me! It was self-de- fense!"

"... And Destruction of Private Property ..."

"For cryin' out loud, it was a garbage can! I'll pay for a new one if that's ..."

"... And, of course, there's Resisting Arrest."

"I asked them where we were going. That's all."

"That's not the way the arresting officers tell it."

Realizing I was getting nowhere in this argument, I did the next most logical thing: I took out my frustration on an innocent bystander. In this case, the nearest available target happened to be J.R., who seemed to be dozing off in his chair.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I demanded.

"You're in this too, you know."

"There's no need," the street vendor shrugged. "It's not like we were in trouble or anything."

"That's funny. I thought we were in a police station."

"So what? They aren't really serious. Are you. Captain?"

The Pervect who had been arguing with me shot him a dark look, but I noticed he didn't contradict what had been said.

"I'll bite J.R.," I said, still watching the captain. "What are you seeing that I'm not in this situation?"

123.

"It's what isn't happening that's the tip-off," he winked.

"What isn't happening is we aren't being booked. We've been here a long time and they haven't charged us with any crimes."

"But the Captain here said ..."

"He said they could charge us with etc., etc. You notice he hasn't actually done it. Believe me, Mr. Skeeve, if they were going to jail us, we'd have been behind bars an hour ago. They're just playing games to stall for a while."

What he said seemed incredible considering the amount of grief we were being put through, yet I couldn't find a hole in his logic. I turned to the captain and raised an eyebrow.

"Is that true?" I said.

The policeman ignored me, leaning back in his chair to stare at J.R. through half-closed eyes.

"You seem to know a lot about police procedure, son.

Almost as if you've been rousted before."

A sneer spread across the street vendor's face as he met the challenge head on.

"Anyone who works the streets gets ha.s.sled," he said.

"It's how you police protect the upstanding citizens from merchants like me who are too poor to afford a storefront.

I suppose it is a lot safer than taking on the real criminals who might shoot back. We should be grateful to our defen- ders of the law. If it wasn't for them, the dimension would probably be overrun with street vendors and parking vio- lators."

I should have been grateful for the diversion after being on the hot seat myself for so long. Unfortunately, I had also logged in a fair amount of time as the Great Skeeve, and as such was much more accustomed to being ha.s.sled than I was to being overlooked.

"I believe the question was 'Are we or are we not being 124 charged with any crimes?' " I said pointedly. "I'm still waiting for an answer."

The captain glowered at me for a few moments, but when I didn't drop my return gaze, he heaved a sigh.

"No. We won't be bringing any charges against you at this time."

"Then we're free to go?"

"Well, there are a few more questions you'll have to answer first. After that, you're free to ..."

"That's 'more' as in new questions, not the same ones all over again. Right?"

The policeman glared at me, but now that I knew we were in the clear, I was starting to have fun with this.

"That's right," he said through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Shoot."

I suddenly realized that was an unfortunate use of words in a room full of armed policemen, but it escaped unnoticed.

The captain cleared his throat noisily before continuing.

"Mister Skeeve," he began formally, "do you wish to press charges against the alleged attackers we currently have in custody?"

"What kind of a silly question is that? Of course I want to."

Kalvin was waving frantically at me and pointing to J.R.

The street vendor was shaking his head in a slow, but firm, negative.

"... Um . . . before I make up my mind on that, Captain," I hedged, trying to figure out what J.R. was thinking, "could you tell me what happens if I don't press charges?''

"We can probably hold onto them until tomorrow mom- ing for questioning, but then we'll let them go."

That didn't sound like particularly satisfying treatment for a gang that had tried to rob me. Still, J.R. seemed to 125.

know what he was doing so far, and I was disinclined to go against his signaled advice.

"... And if I DO press charges?" I pressed, trying to sort it out.

"I'm not a judge," the captain shrugged, "so I can't say for sure ... but I can give you my best guess."

"Please."

"We'll charge them with Attempted Robbery and a.s.sault with Intent To Do Great Bodily Harm ... I don't think we could make Attempted Murder stick."

That sounded pretty good to me, but the policeman wasn't finished.

"... Then the court will appoint a lawyer-if they don't already have one-who will arrange for bail to be set. They'll probably raise the money from a bondsman and be back on the streets before noon tomorrow."

"What? But they ..."

' 'It'll take a couple of months for the trial to be scheduled, at which point it'll be your word against theirs . . . and they're not only locals, they have you outnumbered."

I was starting to see the light.

"... That is, if it gets to trial. More than likely there'll be some plea bargaining, and they'll plead guilty to a lesser charge, which means a smaller sentence with an earlier parole-if the sentence isn't suspended as soon as it's handed down ..."

"Whoa! Stop! I think I'll just pa.s.s on pressing charges."

"Thought you would," the captain nodded. "It's prob- ably the easiest way for everybody. After all, you weren't hurt, and you've still got your money."

"Of course, the next person they jump may not be quite so lucky" I said drily.

"I didn't say it was the best way to handle it, just the easiest."

126.