He checked the batteries on his suit and put it on quickly. There was no point in wearing the helmet inside the dome, but it was better than trying to rent one at the lockers. He buckled it to a strap. The knife slid into its sheath, and the g*n holster snapped onto the suit. As a final thought, he picked up the stout locust stick he'd used under Murdoch.
There were no cabs outside tonight, of course. The streets were almost deserted, except for some prowler or desperation-driven d**g addict. He proceeded cautiously, however, realizing that it would be just like Sheila to ambush him. But he reached the exit from the dome with no trouble.
"Special pass to leave at this hour," the guard there reminded him. "Of course, if it's urgent, pal..."
Gordon was in no mood to try bribes. He let his
