And Gordon had been proud to serve under Murdoch.
"Come on, Izzy," he said. "Let's vote!"
Izzy shook his head. "It ain't right, gov'nor."
"Let him do what he damn pleases," Gordon told him.
Izzy's small face puckered up in lines of worry. "No, I don't mean him. I mean this business of using ammonia. I know some of the gees trying to vote. They been paying me off—and that's a retainer, you might say. Now this gang tries to poison them. I'm still running an honest beat, and I bloody well can't vote for that! Uniform or no uniform, I'm walking beat today. And the first gee that gives trouble to the men who pay me gets a knife where he eats. When I get paid for a job, I do the job."
Gordon watched him head down the block, and started after the little man. Then he grimaced. Rule books! Even Izzy had one.
He went down the row, voting regularly. The Planters had things in order. The mess had already been cleaned up when he arrived at the cheaper end of the beat. It was the last place where he'd be expected to do his duty by Wayne's administration; he waited in line.
Then a voice hit at his ears, and he looked up to see Sheila Corey only two places in front of him. "Mrs. Mary Edelstein," she was saying. The Wayne man nodded, and there was no protest. She picked up a Wayne ballot, and dropped it in the box.
Then her eyes fell on Gordon. She hesitated for a second, bit her lips, and finally moved out into the crowd.
He could see no sign of her as he stepped out a minute later, but the back of his neck prickled.