“I’ll call him and thank him. Off.”
The Judge switched to view three, studied it. “Doesn’t look too rough. Just the same they ought to tear this building down and build a stronger one farther from any Abandoned Area.” He switched to view four. “Oh oh!”
The room filled with crowd roar, the screen showed a milling mob. Moving slowly through the crowd were two police Merrimac tanks, their loudspeakers monotonously repeating the warning-to-disperse. “Brother Schmidt, does your house have a copter landing?”
Joan shook her head. “No, it’s designed so that a copter can’t land on it. It seemed the safer choice when it was built.”
“Well… I could put you into any enclave by copter. Or you could stay here overnight.”
Jake said, “Judge, my car is a Rolls-Skoda. We’ll be all right.”
“I can’t force you to stay. But let’s get a playback on the news and see what stirred up the lice.” McCampbell punched the time in, then punched for playback.
“Headline of the Hour! Brain Transplant Fraud! Our earlier flash has been confirmed; the sensational brain transplant of Tycoon Johann Smith was a hoax. The question is: Did he die a natural death? Or was he murdered? The latter theory seems likely in view of today’s bald-faced attempt to steal his enormous fortune through claiming in open court that his alleged former secretary, a woman of doubtful reputation going by the name of ‘Blanca’—”
Salomon growled, “Judge, would you mind shutting off that damned rot?”
McCampbell switched it off. “Seems I started something. Can’t say I’m sorry. I will not let my courtroom be turned into a circus.”
Joan Eunice said meekly, “I’m sorry, Judge.”
“Eh? Joan Eunice, you are not at fault. You were forced into court needlessly and against your will; you did nothing. As for me, I hold to the old-fashioned ideal that a courtroom is where the Sovereign is present in person, dispensing equity and justice to all…not bread-and-circuses for the rabble. As long as I’m on the bench I’ll run it that way, no matter how many news snoops get sore or how many illits want a livelier show.”
“I’m sorry your bailiffs were hurt.”
“Well, so am I. But they aren’t conscripts, they are career people who know it is hazardous. And they are necessary—if that bill ever passes to disarm bailiffs, that day I quit the bench…and the Law as well. Jake?”
“Yes, Mac?”
“You can risk your neck if you want to, but even a Rolls-Skoda is not a Merrimac. Enough people can tip it over, then they can build a bonfire around it and roast you like chestnuts…and there are characters out there who would do it just for kicks. No, not a word out of you; I’m not going to let her leave this building in a ground car even if I have to reconvene court for three seconds and make her a ward again. She leaves by copter. The question is: Where does she go? You could sleep in my chambers, Joan Eunice; there is a buttery in the bar and the washroom is a complete bath and that couch opens into a bed. Lumpy, I’m afraid.” (Ask Judgie Wudgie if he goes with the bed!) (I didn’t hear you—and pipe down.)
“I was going to say,” Jake said mildly, “that I have a house in Safe Harbor. Unstaffed and empty but it’s a safe rendezvous. You could have your Chief Bailiff tell my driver and Shotgun to wait until this quiets down, then pick us up there—although I would bet on those boys to drive through any mob and not let the car be tipped; they’re mean.”
“No doubt. And wind up with a hit-and-run, too; we’ll do it the easy way. Either of you want to use my washroom while I phone Evelyn and the roof?”
A few minutes later Jake and Joan were about to leave; the Judge’s copter was waiting for them, he having brushed aside remarks about fish. Joan said, “Judge? I think you know I am grateful, but I would like to show my thanks by doing something—money, I mean—for those men who were hurt.”
“No.”
“Why not? Oh, I know it was not my fault but nevertheless they were hurt because of me. You know I can afford it.”
“Because they are officers of the Court and I would have to treat it as constructive bribery. Tell her, Jake.”
“He’s correct, Joan—although he’s being stuffy about it.”
“Not too stuffy. Joan Eunice, there is an enclave home for dependents of police, bailiffs, firemen, and such, killed in line of duty. Jake can tell you about it. I would rather not hear what you do about it.”
“I see.” Joan ignored the fact that Jake was waiting with her robe, stepped closer to McCampbell, turned her face up, and put her arms around his neck. “Does this constitute bribery?”
“I think so,” McCampbell answered, putting his arms around her. “But I won’t analyze it.”
“Of course it’s bribery! Get away from him, Brother Schmidt! I handle his bribes.”
“Shut up, you noisy Mick.”
Joan turned her face just as her lips were about to touch McCampbell’s. “You’re next on my bribe list, Brother Alec.”
“So get back into line! R.H.I.P.” McCampbell stopped any further words from her; she let her lips come softly open, did not hurry him. (Whee…ooo! I thought so.) (Don’t let me faint, Eunice.)
Some seconds later she opened her eyes, looked up into the Judge’s face. “My goodness!” she said softly.
Alec Train tapped his shoulder. “Court’s adjourned, Judge. Be elsewhere.”
Joan gave the Judge a quick, possessive squeeze, untangled herself and went into his former roommate’s arms, turned up her face. She was careful to make this kiss as long and as warm as the other. (Unh! What do you think, Eunice?) (They are both oral as hell and they kiss almost as well as Jake and if Jake weren’t here they would have us down on the rug this instant—break it up, dear; you’ve kissed him as long as you did Judgie Wudgie and Jake is getting edgy.) (All right. Spoilsport.) (Not at all—but you don’t know how to handle men without upsetting them. Break!)
A moment later Jake silently helped her into her street robe. She thanked him, clicked the magnostrip, arranged the shoulder drape, let the Judge hand her into his lift. They said good-bye, the lift closed. Alec Train turned to his friend:
“Mac, kissing Brother Schmidt is more emphatic than spreading most gals.”
“Amen!”
“What would it be like to be married to her? And why is it that when the parade goes by I’m always out for a short beer?”
“The O.B. damaged your head with his forceps. That’s why they had to make a lawyer out of you.”
“How about yourself?”
“Oh, me, too—stipulated. I wasn’t bright enough to be a lawyer; I had to wangle an appointment to the bench. Christ, what a chick!”
“Passed by acclamation. Mac, having kissed her, do you really think she can be old ‘Sell ’em Johann,’ the terrible-tempered tycoon?”
“Well…everything fits—and she did have the Grip.”
“And the password; I checked. But, Mac, any of our brothers, even ones whose bias hardly extends to girls, would sell our secrets—what am I saying?—would give them to that one. If she kissed him.”
“Stipulating that you are correct in your estimate of our brothers—and I agree—Joan Eunice can’t have had much chance to subvert one of them. Jake has practically had her under house arrest, at my suggestion. And Jake himself—well, he sounded like a Barb, but you can check it in that bookcase, in ‘Who’s Who in Law.’”
“I don’t think I can walk that far. But let’s assume that old Johann was a brother—easy to check—and she did know all about the Distress Fund and the fact that you needed a loan our senior year.”
“Yes. That’s the convincer.”
“No, it’s not. I mean that Johann would have been just as susceptible. She was his secretary; it might have amused him to spill fraternal secrets to her—grip, password, even details about the fund.”
“Oh, crap, you honkie bastard. Joan Eunice is just what she purports to be—an utterly delicious girl who has Johann’s brain in her skull. Alec
, I concede that Joan Eunice doesn’t seem much like Johann Smith. But even you might be socially acceptable if that sponge between your ears were placed in the brainpan of a creature as delectable as she is.” The Judge shook his head. “She’s enough to make a queen switch from A.C. to D.C.”
“Man, she really got to you, didn’t she?”
“And you, my friend. Who said we needed a vacation from women? You, as 1 recall. But you drooled over her. You would give up boys for life if she were to phone and ask for you. Don’t try to fool your roomie; I know you better than Ruth does.”
“I won’t argue. But you’re at least as far down the Street as I am, Mac…and she affected you the same way. Uh, does Norma know how little fishing we plan to do?”
“Sure she suspects. But she’s always been tolerant. Alec, how disappointed would you be if I called off our trip? Jake may need a friendly judge in a hurry. Especially if those vultures find a shyster unscrupulous enough to buy some direct action. I’d hate to be missing if Brother Schmidt needed me.”
“My God, a soul with a soul. Oddly enough I was thinking the same thing. Can’t let Brother Schmidt down. Mac, could it prejudice anything if I volunteered my services—free—to Jake? If this gets sticky, he’s going to need to be several places at once. I could share the load.”
“And share the wealth. It would give you an excuse to see Brother Schmidt again.”
“Any law against taking a profit? But Jake does need help.”
“And you’re familiar with the case. Alec old dear, it’s a noble thought. While you did represent the Petitioners, not only have they fired you, but this was never an adversary situation; theoretically those creeps are as anxious to arrive at the truth for the benefit of their beloved grandfather as Jake is. They don’t dare admit that they are trying to grab his gelt.”
“I wonder if Jake has a phone in that empty house he mentioned? If not, I can leave word at the Gibraltar Club—he has rooms there—and at Johann Smith’s town house. And with Jake’s answering service.”
“Yes. But let the call be from me; it might speed the service. We’ll stay and wait for it. Ruth’s not expecting you, Norma is not expecting me; I’ll have dinner sent up from the basement.”
“Clear thinking. So fix fresh drinks while I put in those calls. Hey! You can reach them in your copter.”
“Only via the piloting circuit. Not private. Better we keep this tight. Alec, it is unlikely that Jake will have anything for you to do before morning. But he might—a trip to the coast or such. You could stay on call by spending the night here.”
“Well!” Alec Train stopped with his hand near the phone. “Roomie, I thought that Brother Schmidt had driven all other thoughts out of your mind. Or did I misunderstand?”
“Let’s phrase it this way: It would be pleasant to discuss Brother Schmidt in intimate detail with some sympathetic person who appreciates her as much as I do.”
“In that case, mix those drinks and start a lukewarm shower. I’ll join you as fast as I can.”
14
Jake Salomon handed Joan Eunice into the Judge’s copter, got in beside her and locked the door. Quickly they were airborne. The passenger compartment was separate from the pilot’s space and well soundproofed; conversation was possible. But he said nothing and tended to keep his eyes away from her.
Joan let it go on only a short time. “Jake dear? Are you angry?”
“Eh? Heavens, no. What made you think so?”
“You seemed quite distant. I thought you might be annoyed with me for having kissed Judge McCampbell and dear Mr. Train.”
“Your business.”
“Oh, Jake. Please don’t scold me even by your manner. I’ve had a difficult day, especially the time I had to spend with my goddam granddaughters. It hurts, Jake, to be hated. To know that someone wants you dead. Yet I had to try to appear serene and ladylike. Be a credit to Eunice. Jake, it isn’t easy to be a lady—after almost a century of being male. Do you know how I manage it at all? I say to myself, ‘What would Eunice do?’—then I try to do it. Kissing those sweet and helpful men—Jake, I’m not used to kissing men. You could have trained me but you won’t give me more than a good-night peck. I said to myself, ‘I must thank them—and what would Eunice do?’ I decided that she would kiss them the best she knew how. So I tried, even though I don’t know how. Well? Is that what Eunice would have done?”
“Well…yes, Eunice would have kissed them.” (He knows darn well I would have, dear.) (I know. He’s being difficult.) (So keep punching. Tell him how wonderful he is. Joan, men always believe it when you tell them they are wonderful.)
“Then I don’t see why you are being cold with me, Jake. I thought you were truly wonderful all day long, the way you handled things and protected me. I wanted to kiss you for being so wonderful—and would have, and will!—if only you would let me. Was it because I didn’t stop to put my robe on before I kissed them?”
“Well…it would have been more ladylike.”
(Punch hard on this one, dearie—for Jake knows darn well that I spread skin on him the very first time I kissed him…and later I kissed him bare naked the first time it was safe to. He didn’t fight—he was eager.) (I’ll try.)
Miss Smith looked worried, which did not suit her features. “I suppose so. But I don’t know how to be a lady, Jake; the rules have changed so much. Eunice often startled me by what she did and how she dressed—yet I am certain that she was always a perfect lady. Tell me this, Jake, honestly and candidly, and I’ll treat your answer as Gospel and use it as a yardstick for future behavior—because I do want to be a credit to Eunice; I want ‘Joan Eunice’ to be the perfect lady that Eunice was. Under those exact circumstances and being just as anxious to show appreciation to two sweet and wonderfully helpful gentlemen…would Eunice have put this street robe on first? Or would she have spread her sweet skin on them and let them cuddle her a bit if they wanted to—and they wanted to, I’m sure you noticed. Think about it, Jake. You knew Eunice better than I did; we know that—so give me a straight answer, because I’m going to use it as a guide in trying to be Eunice. Would she have played safe? Or would she have given herself?”
Jake Salomon gave a sigh that was almost a groan. “Hell, you did exactly what Eunice would have done. That’s what upset me.”
Joan sighed. “Thank you, Jake, I feel better.” She loosened her seat belt, moved closer to him, ran her thumb down the magnostrip of her robe. “Can’t get this pesky thing off in here. Kiss me, Jake, kiss me better than they did. Kiss me and cuddle me and tell me that Eunice would be proud of me.”
“Joan!”
“Don’t shame me, Jake. I’m a girl now and I need to be kissed so hard we’ll forget I kissed those other two. Call me ‘Eunice,’ dear; please do, it’s my name and I want to hear you call me by it and tell me I’m a good girl.”
He groaned. “Eunice!”
She turned her face up. “Kiss me, darling.”
Trembling, he gave in.
The kiss went on and on. It took Joan only seconds to turn it from tender to rugged, nor did he hold back. (Eunice? I’m going to faint.) (I’m not going to let you, sweetheart; I’ve waited a long time for this!)
Eventually Jake broke, but she stayed close and he continued to hold her. She sighed and touched her hand to his face. “Thank you, Jake dear—for this, and for everything.”
“Thank you… Eunice. Joan Eunice.”
“Let me be ‘Eunice’ a while longer. Am I a good girl? Do I do credit to her?”
“Uh…yes!”
“I tried. Jake dear, do you believe in ghosts? I think Eunice must have been here with us. I couldn’t have done that well without her help. It often seems so.”
“Uh, it’s an interesting thought.” (Hmmph! We ought to tickle him for that. Joan, if you tickle him under his short ribs, he comes unstuck. Helpless.) (I’ll remember. But not today.) “In any case, she would have been proud of you. You’re a sweet girl.”
“I mean
to be. To you. I love you, Jake.”
He hesitated only a heartbeat. “I love you—Eunice. And Joan Eunice.”
“I’m glad you made it both of us. Jake dearest, you’re going to have to marry me. You know that, don’t you?”
“What? Oh, heavens, dear, don’t be silly. I love you—but there’s too much age difference.”
“What? Oh, fiddlesticks! I know I’m almost a quarter of a century older than you are. But it no longer shows. And you understand me and no other man possibly could.”
“Huh! I mean I am too much older than you.”
(Joan, don’t let him talk that way! Tell him men and liquor improve with age. Or some such. Anyhow, he was feeling quite young a few minutes ago—I noticed. Did you?) (Yes. Now quiet, please.)
“Jake, you are not old. Goodness, I know what 'old’ is! You’re a classic, Jake—and classics improve with age. And…just minutes ago, you were feeling quite young. I noticed.”
“Uh…possibly. But none of your sass—youngster.”
She chuckled. “Jake, it’s nice to be a girl to you. I won’t argue, I’ll wait. In time you will realize that you need me and I need you, and that no one else will do for either of us. Then you can make an honest woman of me.”
“Harrumph! That might be more than I could manage, even with a marriage license.”
“Rude darling. I can wait. You can’t escape me, Jake. Eunice won’t let you.”
“Well… I’m durned if I’ll argue; it would just make you stubborn. In either of your personae. My old friend Johann was as stubborn a man as I’ve ever met—and Eunice was just as stubborn in her own sweet way. And, dear, I never know which one you are. Sometimes I think you’ve acquired that split personality your doctors were afraid of.”
(Get him off this subject!) (I will, dear—but not by being jumpy about it. Aren’t we ever going to tell him?) (Yes, of course. But not soon, Joan. Not till we’re in the clear. Remember those straps.) “Jake darling, I’m not surprised that you feel that way about me—because I do myself. Oh, nothing psychopathic, just the odd situation I am in. You’ve known me how long? A quarter of a century.”