Frederik Pohl & Cecil Kornbluth Gladiator at Law

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First they stopped by Mundin's bank, where he plugged in his key, punched
"Close Out Account," and scooped up the bills that rolled out.
He counted morosely. Two hundred thirty-four dollars, plus eighty-five cents
in change. Lana looked hungry, and Mundin recalled that he still owed her
twenty-five dollars balance from the night before. He gave it to her
reluctantly.
They ate in Hussein's. Over coffee Lana brooded. "I guess the big shots'll
ride out to Morristown in armored cars. Too bad we ain't rich. Well, let's get
to the jumping-off place."
A taxi took them through the Bay tunnel to the Long Island Railroad terminus
in Old Brooklyn. Just for the record, they tried the ticket window.
"Nossir," the man said positively. "One train a day, armored. For officials
only. What the hell do you want in Morristown, anyway?"
They canvassed the bus companies by phone, without luck. Outside the railroad
station, at the head of the cab rank, Lana began to cry.
"There, little girl," one of the hackies soothed glaring at Mundin and Bligh.
A fatherly type.
"What's the matter?"
"It's my daddy," Lana bawled heartrendingly. "He's hi that terrible place an'
he's lost an' my mommy said we should go help him. Honest, mister, just take
us to the edge, please? Please? An'
Uncle Norvie and Uncle Charlie won't let anything bad happen if those has if
those bad men in
Morris-town try anything. Honest!"
He broke down and agreed to take them to the edge. It was a two-hour drive
over bad roads.
The hackie let Lana ride next to him in the front. Swinging her little handbag
gaily, with the volatility of a child, she chattered, all smiles, all the way.
Uncle Norvie and Uncle Charlie exchanged looks. They knew what was in the
little handbag.
Morristown, being older, was better organized than Belly Rave. The driver
stopped a couple of weed-
grown blocks from the customs barrier.
"Here we are, little girl," he said tenderly.
The little girl reached into her handbag. She took out her busted bottle and
conversed earnestly
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At the gate, a couple of men looked genially in. Lana whispered
something Mundin caught the words
"Wabbits" and "Itty-Bitties" and the men waved them on. A block past the gate,
on Lana's orders, the driver stopped at another checkpoint, manned by a pair
of dirty-faced nine-year-olds with carbines.
They got a guide; an Itty-Bitty with a carbine. On their way through the busy,
brawling streets to the Administration Build-
ing, not a few grown-ups turned white and got out of sight when they saw him
clinging to the cab.
At the Ad Building Lana said curtly to me driver, "Wait." Mundin shook his
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head. "No," he told her, pointing to the rank of steel-plated wheeled and
tracked vehicles drawn up in the building's parking lot. "We get out of here
in one of those or not at all." Lana shrugged. "I don't get it, but all
right." She told the
Itty-Bitty, "Pass the cab out, will you? And whenever you guys need something
in Belly Rave, you know who to come to."
It was one o'clock; the meeting was scheduled for one-thirty.
The check-point in the lobby passed Mundin and Bligh on the strength of
Mundin's stock certificate. Lana was to wait hi the visitors' room.
Room 2003 was a suite perhaps the whole floor, Mundin suspected. He told the
receptionist, "Stockholders' meeting. G.M.L. Homes." The receptionist passed
them on, with a thoughtful stare.
Some twenty men filled the meeting room. Quite obviously, they were Titans.
Beside these richly, quietly dressed folk, Mundin and Bligh were shabby
interlopers. They were also ridiculously young and awkward.
From here on it gets hard, Mundin told himself. Corporate law!
The vision blinded him with its brightness.
Another new arrival was greeted cheerfully by the Titans. "Bliss, old man!
Never thought you'd turn up for this nonsense. Old Arnold's just going to
tramp all over you again, as usual."
Bliss was thin and younger man most of them. "If a couple of you gutless
wonders would back me up we'd stop him," he said cheerfully. "Anyway, what
else have I got to do with my time?"
Archly: "I did hear something or other about a Miss Laverne " It broke up in
laughter.
Mundin dove into the breach. "How do you do, Mr. Bliss," he said breathlessly,
taking the man's hand. "I'm Charles Mundin, former Regular Republican
candidate in the 27th District 'and a small stockholder here."
The thuvman gently disengaged his hand. "It's Bubble, Mr.
Urmurm, Bliss Hubble. How do you do." He turned to one of the Titans and
demanded with mock belligerence, "Didn't you get my wire, Job? Then why
haven't I got your proxy for the contract thing?"
Job seemed to be a cautious cuss. "Because," he said slowly, "I like old
Arnold's policies so far.
You'll rock the boat, one of these days, Bliss. Unless we kick you out of it
first"
"Mr. Hubble," Mundin said insistently.
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Hubble said absently, "Mr. Urmurm, I assure you Fd vote for you if I lived in
the 27th District, which thank God I don't." His eyes were wandering; he
headed across the room to buttonhole another
Titan. Mundin followed him in time to hear, " all very idealistic, I'm sure,
my dear Bliss. But many an idealistic young man has turned out to be a hard
taskmaster. I mean no oflfense." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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