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. Only 7-D-92-10-3sc YOUR TAXES AT WORK
Hazel said thoughtfully, "Richard, it does not look as if Uncle Jock lives
here this year. Or this is the wrong house and Gay missed her clues. I may have
to call for help."
"It's the right house and Uncle Jock did-does-live here this year. If this
year is 2177, on which I'm keeping an open mind. That sign smells like Uncle
Jock; he always did have funny ideas about privacy. One year it was piranhas and
a moat."
I found a push button to the right of the gate and pressed it. A brassy
voice, so artificial that it had to be an actor, announced: "Stand one-half
meter from pickup. Display your clock badge. Face pickup. Turn ninety degrees
and show profile. These premises are guarded by attack dogs, gas, and snipers."
"Is Jock Campbell at home?"
"Identify yourself."
"This is his nephew Colin Campbell. Tell him her father found out!"
The brassy voice was replaced by one I recognized. "Dickie, are you in
trouble again?"
"No, Uncle Jock. I simply want to get in. I thought you were expecting me."
"Anyone with you?"
"My wife."
"What's her first name?"
"Go to hell."
"Later, don't rush me. I need her first name." "And I won't play games;
we're leaving. If you see Lazarus Long-or Dr. Hubert-tell him that I'm sick of
childish games and won't play. Good-bye, Uncle."
"Hold it! Don't move; I have you in my sights
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