Commissioner Hendricks was a remarkable character. There was something wrong with his glands, and he was a huge, greasy bulk of a man with bushy eyebrows and a double chin. His steel-gray eyes showed something of his intelligence and he would have gone far in politics if fate hadn't made him so ugly, for more than half the voters who elected men to high political positions were women. Anyone who knew Hendricks well liked him, for he was a friendly, likable person. But the millions of women voters who saw his face on posters and on their TV screens saw only the ugly face and heard only the harsh voice. The President of the United States was a capable man, but also a very handsome one, and the fact that a man who looked something like a bulldog had been elected as New York's police commissioner was a credit to Hendricks and millions of women voters. "Where's the girl?" Joe asked. "I processed her while you were out cold. She left. Joe, you--" "Okay," Joe said. "I'll save you the trouble. I admit it. Attempted rape. I confess." Hendricks smiled. "Sorry, Joe. You missed the boat again." He reached out and turned a dial on his desk top. "We had a microphone hidden in that alley. We have a lot of microphones hidden in a lot of alleys. You'd be surprised at the number of conspiracies that take place in alleys!" Joe listened numbly to his voice as it came from one of the hundreds of machines on the walls, "_Scream. Scream as loud as you can, and when the cops get here, tell 'em I tried to rape you._" And then the girl's voice, "_Sorry, buddy. Can't help--_" He waved his hand. "Okay. Shut it off. I confess to conspiracy." * * * * * Hendricks rose from behind the desk, walked leisurely to where Joe was slouched in a chair. "Give me your CPA ID." Joe handed him the card with trembling fingers. He felt as if the world had collapsed beneath him. Conspiracy to commit a crime wasn't a crime. Anyone could conspire. And if the conspirators were prevented from committing a crime, then that meant the CPA had functioned properly once again. That meant the CPA had once again _prevented_ crime, and the CPA didn't punish crimes or attempted crimes, and it didn't attempt to prevent crimes _by_ punishment. If it did, that would be a violation of the New Civil Rights. Hendricks crossed the room, deposited the card in a slot and punched a button. The machine hummed and a new card appeared. When Hendricks handed him the new card, Joe saw that the words DANGEROUS CRIMINAL TENDENCIES were now in red and larger than before. And, in slightly smaller print, the ID card stated that the owner was a DCT First Class. "You've graduated," Hendricks said coldly. "You guys never learn, do you? Now you're a DCT First Class instead of a Second Class. You know what that means?"