They left, reducing the Big Seven to a Big Five—and Nor-vell Bligh, who truculently demandeu to be filled in.
When he had been, he looked around at the glum faces and
laughed. “Cheer up,” he said. “Worse things happen in Belly Rave.”
“We’ll find out, no doubt,” Mundin said numbly.
Norvell patted him on the shoulder. “Exactly,” he nodded. “Exactly, Charles; that’s the worst that can happen to you. And I’ve been there, folks. Oh, it’s hell, no doubt about it. But—what isn’t?”
Norma said imploringly, “Charles, listen to him. He’s right. The world’s in jail, Charles, and my father put it there, trying to make things nice. I’m almost glad he’s dead, just so he can’t see what his bubble-house did to the world. Nero never had a weapon like the bubble-house! And think of it in the hands of people like Mrs. Green and Mr. Charlesworth!”
Mundin said, breathing heavily, “Am I to understand that all you ask of an attorney is that he turn the world upside-down for you?”
Norvie Bligh snapped, “Come off it, Charlie!” He advanced almost menacingly on the lawyer, staring up into the bigger man’s eyes. He said, “I’ve got a kid coming. I want him to have a chance at real life—not contract slavery. Oh, if it’s money you want, we’ll make money. G.M.L. is worth lots Of money, and as I see it our first move is to take over G.M.L. But that’s only the beginning!”
His cocksure confidence made something in the bridge of Mundin’s nose tickle; he called it a beginning laugh, and suppressed it. But—Norvie Bligh, five-feet-four and without two nickels in his pocket, saying, “Let’s take over G.M.L.—fourteen billion dollars and a nation of resources. . . .”
Mundin swallowed and grinned. “Well, as you say, what have we got to lose? Except you, Hubble.”
“Call me Bliss,” said the financier, wryly. “It’s so descriptive of my entire life.” He hesitated. “Oh, hell,” he said after a moment. “Might as well show my credentials in the club. What you said, Bligh—’What isn’t hell?’ A good question. You think Belly Rave is tough, you ought to spend some time at a directors’ meeting! You’ve met my wife—fine woman,” he added hastily. “Or was once. But—corruption spreads. Disease spreads. Things are bad at the bottom, they’ve got to get bad at the top.”
He shook his head, staring like a trapped animal at the
scorched rug. “All my life, looking for something, trying to do something, trying to take over and change things—I didn’t know how. And I don’t know how now, but maybe you people do. Anyway, I’ll help you try.”
Norma, for once compassionate, said, “And even all that money doesn’t help?”
Hubble laughed. “You ask me that. That’s a good one. You’ve got more than I’ll ever see, free and clear. Sell your stock on the Big Board if you want to find out for yourself.” He shook his head and said abruptly, “Hell with it. What do we do now?”
Mundin, looking around the room, was astonished to find that everyone was looking at him. And then he saw why— Norma was looking to him; and Don was looking where Norma looked; and the others followed the Lavins.
He cleared his throat; and then he heard, with his mind, what his ears had heard moments before. “The Big Board!” he cried.
They looked at him. “Don’t you see?” he demanded. “The Big Board, what Hubble said. If we can—what’s that?”
“That” was a clear, ringing note that came, startlingly, from nowhere. They all looked up; Don Lavin shook himself and got to bis feet, staring around. He started to walk toward the door; Mundin said:
“Hey, wait a minute! Where are you going?”
Don called something over his shoulder that sounded like “high wire”; but Mundin didn’t catch it. For just then there was another little explosion in the room, the base of a lamp next to where Don had been sitting; and he had a couple more little fires to put out.
But there was, as before, no serious damage. “Hope they haven’t got any more of these on a time fuse,” Mundin commented. “Well, where were we?”