Curry, a pale, cherubic man in his late twenties, was a detective assigned to the safety director's office. He represented, to Ness, the sort of young, honest, well-trained, idealistic officer that Cleveland, and every big city, needed, if police departments were to be dragged screaming and kicking into the twentieth century.

"Then the steel workers' headquarters really was turned upside down, as their people say?"

"Oh yes," Curry said. "Broken windows, smashed dishes, overturned tables, cracked chairs, shattered lamps-"

"And they didn't do it themselves, obviously."

"No. They say it was 'hired gangsters and company police.'"

"If that's true," Ness said, gazing significantly at Matowitz, "then Republic's breaking the law, too."

"I don't know the facts," Matowitz said, reddening, "but I can understand a company hiring on a little outside help for security reasons."

"Security is one thing," Ness said. "Goons are another."

"If you're intending to take the side of the strikers-"

"I intend to take the side of the city," Ness said. He checked his watch. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a meeting with the mayor."

Curry and Chamberlin nodded and took seats at one of the conference tables; but Matowitz trailed along after Ness, saying, "It's going to be very dangerous, when night falls. You have to let me arm my boys."

"No," Ness said. Their footsteps echoed off the marble floor of the open hallway beyond the railing of which rose the City Hall atrium. Standing at attention, just outside the mayor's office, were eight uniformed, armed police officers. Ness glanced at Matowitz, looking for an explanation.

"I've appointed these men the Mayor's Guard. In a situation this dangerous, I thought it wise to-"

"They're not needed, Chief." Ness turned to the cops and said, "Go downstairs. You can keep an eye on the entrances, if you like, but don't go out on the street. You'd just incite a riot."