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GLADIATOR-AT-LAW by FHEDERIK POHL and C. M. KOMBLUTH

It was after midnight; but Ryan needed to hear everything tha* had happened, and they all needed to plan for the next day. Mundin gave the old man a blow-by-blow account of the stockholders’ meeting and the later discussion at Hubble’s house; the three of them picked apart every word and hint of the whole exhausting day, checking and rechecking their progress.

Norvell Bligh joined them at about one. Mundin let him in, astonished to see the little man there.

“Just wanted to know if you need us any more tonight,” Norvell said. His voice was eager; he was enjoying this, Mundin thought, with a f aint prick of irritation—not realizing what a job, any kind of job for whatever sort of pay, meant to a Belly Raver.

“Who’s ‘us,’ Bligh?” Norma Lavin demanded.

“Me and the Wabbits,” he grinned. “Lana stopped me on the way in. She said to tell you the Gee-Gees had a patrol near here about ten o’clock, but the Wabbits took care of them; didn’t know if they were trying to knock off your brother or not.”

Ryan’s sallow face was abruptly pale; but he didn’t speak. Norma said suspiciously, “I didn’t see any Wabbits when we came in.”

Bligh looked at her. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

Mundin said dubiously, “I guess you might as well go home, Bligh. There’s nothing more you can do for us tonight.

“Meaning I should mind my business?” Bligh inquired. “Okay. If you need anything, all you gotta do is ask, that’s all.” He grinned amiably and headed toward the door.

Surprisingly, Harry Ryan stopped him. “Wait a minute, Bligh. Mundin—Norma—will you come here a moment?”

Mundin and the girl, in response to his gestures, leaned close to him. He said in an undertone, “What about seeing if he can get some, well, medical attention for Don?”

Mundin said sharply, “Ryan, you told me we couldn’t do that! G.M.L. won’t let us, remember? Unauthorized use of conditioning techniques; fourteen billion dollars; if we break the law, G.M.L. will——”

“Shut up, Mundin,” said Norma. “Ryan’s right. The situation has changed now. We’ve got backing from Coett, Hubble, and Nelson.”

They battled in whispers for minutes while Bligh leaned cheerfully against the doorframe, out of earshot, watching them. It was Mundin, flushed and angry, against the other two; Mundin who objected and refused and shook his head. He said tightly, “If we did try to get Don deconditioned, this isn’t the way to do it. If we’re going to break the law, let’s at least do it privately, not by taking every derelict in Belly

Rave into our confidence. I’ve said it before, Ryan, / don’t like dirty methods. Surely we can get Don fixed up legally some way or other—we’ve got some strength now, we’ll try for a court order, or at least an inquiry, and——”

“And we’ll have the stock by tomorrow morning,” Ryan finished. “Good work, Counselor. Go ahead and do it.”

Mundin said furiously, “How do you know Bligh can help us? Suppose we ask him and draw a blank? Then we’ve advertised our troubles, and we’re no farther ahead than before.”

From the doorway Norvell Bligh called, “Let me try, Mr. Mundin; that’s all I ask.”

Mundin glared at him incredulously. Bligh said apologetically, “Lip-reading, Mr. Mundin, remember? I haven’t been deaf for thirty years without learning a little bit. Anyway, Lana can find you a doctor, I’m sure of it. All you have to do is ask her.”

Mundin slumped into a chair and groaned. “That’s the end,” he said bitterly. “One accomplice after another; one more loose mouth.”

Norvell looked alarmed. “I wouldn’t say anything against Lana, Mr. Mundin.”

“Who’s saying anything against her? But she’s only a thirteen-year-old kid. She’s bound to talk. I won’t deny that she was pretty helpful in locating Miss Lavin, but that doesn’t mean she’s a superwoman. No, I absolutely decline to have anything to do with letting her know that we’re even thinking of going to an illegal doctor.” He stopped short; Bligh had made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked-off laugh. “What’s the matter now?” he demanded.

Noryie Bligh controlled himself. “Well, nothing, Mr. Mundin,” he apologized. “It’s just that you—uh—kind of underrate Lana.”

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Categories: C M Kornbluth
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