"How about taking him out for a drink so an old customer can squeeze
in for a few plays?" I said.
The money-glow faded gradually from her eyes as she focused on me. She
took her time deciding; but from the way she snuggled up to Konnel to
whisper in his ear, it looked as if she might really be stuck on him.
He winked at me.
Such a gasp went up as we changed places that I thought my cuff must
have brushed Pluto, but it was just Meadows making a long-odds hop
from Earth to Uranus. The operator no longer even flinched before
punching the distances and bet on his little computer, and groping in
his cash drawer to pay off.
* * * * *
I stood there a few minutes, wondering if the game could be fixed
after all. Still, the man who invented it also made encoding machines
for the Earth space fleet. Meadows must be having a run of blind
luck--no time to interrupt.
On my way out, Howlet caught me at the door of the bar.
"How about some coffee?" he asked. "We'll have to start back soon.
You'll be surprised at the time. Dining room still open?"
"Always. Okay, let's sober up and watch the fountain."
Only two or three women and a dozen men sat in the restaurant now. The
part-time musicians had disappeared for a few hours of sleep before
their usual jobs. We ordered a thermos pot of coffee and Howlet asked
me about McNaughton.
"I guess it was on the level," he said when I described the man's
Committee position. "He got a boost out of how they had to patch up
some troublemaker he knew, after that bar fight we had. Wanted to make
me chief cop here."
"Some domes have regular police forces already," I confirmed.
"So he said. Claimed a lot of police chiefs have been elected as
mayors. Then he said that someday there will be a Martian Assembly,
and men with a start in dome politics will be ready for it, and so
on."
"He's exactly right," I admitted. "When do you figure to start?"
"Maybe the next time I pass through." He winked. "If it's still open."