“Yes, Mac?”
“You can risk your neck if you want to, but even a Rolls-Skoda is not a Merrirnac. 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 McCainpbell, 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. . . 000! 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 lake 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?”