Two weeks later, I was at the starting line with five long-distance runners. Eve checked me over carefully. Fresh battery, central distributor sparking evenly, all rivets and bolts tightened, joints oiled. I was ready.
Jim Brody, the gambler, approached us before the start. “You going to win Adam Link?” he asked me, with all the querulousness of a child.
I answered truthfully. “I don’t know. If I break a leg cable I lose under the rule of no repairs.”
Brody looked at me speculatively. “I’ve made some money on you, Link. The odds are ten-to-one that you win, because you won in everything else. Suppose you lost? And suppose I collected ten for one, betting against you? I’d make a mint. And you can have fifty percent—”
against“Damn you, Brody,” I said. It was the first time I’d ever used
