“Certainly, Mr.certainly, Norvie!”
Norvell nodded. “I can only ask you a couple of questions, without giving you any clue as to why I ask them. The twenty-eight thousand bubble-houses General Recreations leases are devoted almost entirely to married couples, I believe. How many of these marriages are sterile? Of those where children have been born while living hi a bubble-house, what percentage of the children are malformed?”
Candella’s eyes were cesspools of curiosity. “II don’t know off-hand,” he said, “but”
“Of course not,” Norvell said impatiently. “I don’t want you asking any direct questions, either. No sense starting any rumors. But if you can find outquietlyI’d appreciate your giving me a ring.” He produced the most splashily engraved calling card Mundm’s printer had been able to turn out overnight “Here’s my number. Remember, I’m not offering you any inducementthat would be unethical. But it would be very much appreciated by me and my associates. We show our appreciation, Candella. Good-by.”
He nodded curtly. Candella cried, “Hey, Norvie! Don’t don’t run off like that! Can’t you stay a little while and have some lunch, or a drink or something?”
“Sorry. Afraid not.”
Candella rushed on, “But gee, Norvie, everybody’s been looking forward to seeing you again. Stimmens particularly I don’t know what to say if you won’t have lunch with us.”
Norvell frowned. “Stimmens,” he said thoughtfully. “Oh, Stimmens. Sorry, Candella. But do give Stimmens my regards, and tell her that I think of her often.”
He left.
Norvell had a busy day. His schedule was General Recreations, Hussein’s, and an even dozen bars hi Monmouth City. By evening he was tired, happy, and about seventy-five per cent drunk. He approached his last call with a mixture of sadness, anger, and nostalgia.
Arnie Dworcas let him in.
Norvell tried none of the tricks he’d used on Candella with Arnie Dworcas; he was the old Norvell, the true friend, the shy acolyte. Sitting there with Amie, listening to Arnie’s explanations of the world’s affairs, it seemed to Norvie that Belly Rave was a nightmare and Mundin a figure from a dream; nothing had changed; nothing would ever change, as long as he could sit and drink Arnie’s beer.
But there were changes… .
Arnie drained his glass of beer, wiped his mouth and dialed another. “No, Norvell,” he said meditatively, “I wouldn’t say that you have succeeded. Not as We Engineers understand success. To Us Engineers, a mechanismand all of us are mechanisms, Norvell, I, you, everybodya mechanism is a success when it is functioning at maximum efficiency. Frankly, in my little experiment of suggesting that you try Belly Rave I was attempting to perform what we call ‘destructive testing’the only way in which maximum efficiency can be determined. But what happened? You didn’t rise through your own efforts, Norvell. By pure fortuitousness you made a connection and are now a really able man’s secretary.” He sipped his beer sorrowfully. ‘To use an analogy,” he said, “it’s as if my slipstick were to take credit for the computations I make on it.”
“I’m sorry, Arnie,” Norvell said. It was very difficult to decide whether he wanted more to laugh in Arnie’s face or take out some of his front teeth with a beer glass. “Mr. Mundin thinks a great deal of you and your brother too, you know.”
“Naturally,” Arnie said severely. “That’s one of the things you’ll have to learn. Like seeks like, in human relations as well as electrostatics.”
“I thought in electrostatics like repelled”
“There you go!” yelled Arnie violently. “The layman! The quibbler! It’s people like you that”
“I’m sorry, Arnie!”
“All right. Don’t get so excited. Really able people never lose control of themselves, Norvell! That was a stupid thing for you to get all upset about.”
“I’m sorry, Arnie. That’s what I was telling Mr. Mundin.”
Arnie, raising his glass irritatedly, stopped it in mid-air. “What were you telling Mr. Mundin?” he asked suspiciously.
“Why, that you never lost control in an emergency. That you would be a damned good man to put in charge ofoh, God, Arnie, I shouldn’t have said anything!” Norvell covered his mouth with both hands.
Arnie Dworcas said sternly, “Norvell, stop stammering and come out with it! In charge of what?”
Norvie, who had been fighting back a tendency to retch, removed his hands from his mouth. He said, “Wellwell, it isn’t as if I couldn’t trust you, Arnie. It’sit’s G.M.L.”
“What about G.M.L.?”
Norvie said rapidly, “It’s too soon to say anything definite and, please, Arnie, don’t let a word of it get out But you’ve heard the rumors about G.M.L., naturally.”
“Naturally!” Arnie said, though his eyes were vacant
“Mr. Mundin is associated with theuhthe Coshocton bunch, Arnie. And he’s looking around, quietly, you know, for key men to replace some of the old duffers. An 11 took the liberty of mentioning you to him, Arnie. The only thing is, Mr. Mundin doesn’t know much about the technical end, you see, and he wasn’t sure just how much experience you had had.”
“My record is in the professional journals, Norvell. Not that I would feel free to discuss it in this informal manner in any case, of course.”
“Oh, of course! But what Mr. Mundin asked me was just what G.M.L. Homes models you had worked onserial numbers and locations and so on. And I had to tell him that all that information was locked up, and you couldn’t possibly get your hands on it.”
Arnie shook his head wonderingly. “Laymen,” he said. “Norvell, there is no reason in the world why I can’t get microfilms of all that information. It’s only corporate fiddle-faddle that causes all the secrecy; We Engineers are accustomed to cutting right through the red tape.”
Norvell looked worshipful. “You mean you can?” he cried.
“I have already said so, have I not? It’s just a matter of going through the records and picking out the units I’ve worked on myself, then making microfilms”
“Better microfilm everything, Arnie,” Norvell suggested. “It’ll help Mr. Mundin understand the Broad Picture.”
Arnie shrugged humorously. “Why not?”
“Don’t forget the serial numbers,” Norvell said.
Norvell met Mundin at Hussein’s late that night, by arrangement, and made his report.
Mundin’s expression began to relax. “So far,” he said, “so good. And I’ve done my rounds too; and I imagine Hubble and Coett and Nelson are right on schedule. Let’s have a drink.”
“Thanks, no,” said Norvell Bligh. “It’s a long way to Belly Rave and my wife’s all alone, except for the kid.”
Mundin said, “Look, Bligh, why do you stick to Belly Rave? If it’s money”
Norvie shook his head. “You’re paying me plenty for right now. Tell you the truth, I’m getting so I kind of like Belly Rave. As long as I don’t have to stay there, you know, there’s a lot to be said for it.”
“There is?” Mundin asked.
Norvie laughed. “Maybe not a lot. Anyway, I’ll stick a while; and I better get along. The Wabbits are supposed to be watch-dogging the house, but they don’t think much of Sandythat’s my little girland I don’t feel right without a man in the house at night.”
A vagrant memory stirred in Mundin’s mind. “I thought you had a kind of bodyguard?”
“Who? You mean Shep? He doesn’t work for me any more.” Norvie’s expression was unreadable. “He had an accident with a lead pipe.”
Chapter Nineteen
the sign on the door said:
ryan & mundin, attorneys-at-law
The office occupied a solid floor-through of a very good building.
Del Dworcas had to take several long, deep breaths before he pushed the door open and announced himself to a ripely curved blonde receptionist. One of Mundin’s minor pleasures these days, when he could spare time for
it, was telling salesmen of automatic office equipment just what they could do with their merchandise.
“Pleased be seated, Mr. Dworcas,” the girl cooed. “Mr. Mundin asked me to tell you that you’ll be the very next person he sees.”
The dozen or so other individuals in the waiting room glared at Del Dworcas. However, being a professional politician, he had no difficulty in striking up a conversation with the fellows nearest him. One was a petrochemist who understood there were consultant jobs opening up at Ryan & Mundin. Another was a publisher’s bright young man who thought there must be a whale of a story in old man Ryan’s sensational comeback, and stood ready to sign it up. The others were easy enough to taga couple of crackpots, two attorneys obviously seeking affiliation with the new firm, a handful of persons who seemed to be in the market for lawyers, and had suddenly come to think that it might be a good idea to retain
Ryan & Mundin. Nobody in the waiting room seemed to have any idea what, if anything, was going on in the remainder of the enormous suite.
Dworcasbeing a professional politicianwas able to absorb information, pump for more, evaluate what he had heard and speculate on its meaning. But the answers were slight and cloudy. All he could make out for sure was: Ryan & Mundin were rising like a rocket; and plenty of shrewd operators were trying to hitch a ride.
At last he got the nod from the receptionist. A hard-faced young man with a badge that said Guide took him in tow.
Ryan & Mundin operated the damnedest law offices that Dworcas, in a full life, had ever seen. Law offices … complete with such eccentricities as chemistry labs and kitchens, living quarters and a TV studio, rooms locked off from his view, and open rooms that he could make no sense of.
Dworcas said tentatively, “You must be proud to be working for Mr. Mundin. Of course you know his record with our Party in the 27thright down the line for Arab rights.”
“That’s nice,” the guide said. “Right in here, mister.” He guided Dworcas into a bay; it lit up with a shimmering violet light; the guide scanned a fluoroscope screen. “You’re clean,” he said. “In that door.”
“You searched mel” Dworcas gasped. “Me! Mr. Mundin’s oldest friend!”
“That’s nice,” the Ay-rab said. “In that door.”
Dworcas went through the door.
“Hello, Del,” Mundin said abstractedly. “What do you want?” He was checking off items on a list; he said, “Excuse me,” and picked up an interoffice phone. Five minutes later he put it down, glanced at Dworcas, and turned to another list.
Dworcas, in ‘cello tones, said, “Charlee… .”
And waited.
Mundin looked at him, with annoyance on his face. “Well?”
Dworcas waved a finger at him, smiling. “Charlie, you’re not treating me right,” he said. “You really aren’t”
“Oh, the hell I’m not,” said Mundin tiredly. “Look, Del. Business has picked up. I’m busy. What do you want?”
Dworcas said, “Nice office you’ve got G.M.L. fix it for you?”
“What do you think?”
Dworcas retained his smile. “Remember who got you in with G.M.L.?”
“Oh, hell, you’ve got a point,” Mundin conceded unwillingly. “It isn’t going to do you much good, though. I haven’t got time for favors. Some other time I’ll listen closer.”
“I want you to listen now, Charlie. I want to retain you for the County Committee.”
Mundin stared. “Work for the County Committee?”
“I know it sounds like small potatoes. But it can lead to big ones, Charlie. You can make something out of it. And what about us, Charlie? You owe methe Partyall of us something for putting you on to the Lavins. Is this the time to let us down? I’m not too proud to beg if I have to. Stick with the Party, boyl”
It wasn’t going over. “Sorry, Del,” Mundin said.
“Charlie!”
Mundin looked exasperated. “Del, you old crook,” he said, “just what are you up to now? I’ve got nothing to sell you even if you could outbid my other clients. Which you can’t.”
Dworcas leaned forward, his face completely changed. “I underestimated you, Charlie,” he admitted. “I’ll tell you the God’s truth. No, haven’t anything to sell, right now. But something’s on the fire. I smell it, Charlie. I never miss on something like this. I feel it through the soles of my feet.”
He had Mundin’s full attention now. “What do you feel?”
Dworcas shrugged. “Little things. Jimmy Lyons, for instance. Remember him, the captain’s man at the precinct?”
“Sure.”
“He isn’t, any more. Captain Kowalik transferred him out to Belly Rave. He’s been knifed twice. Why? I don’t know why, Charlie. Jimmy was a bastard, sure; he had it coming to him. But why did it happen? And what’s happening to Kowalik? He’s losing weight. He can’t sleep nights. I asked him why, and he wouldn’t tell me. So I asked somebody else, and I found out. Kowalik’s trouble is that Commissioner Sabbatino doesn’t talk to him any more.”
“And what’s the matter with Sabbatino?” Mundin was playing with a pencil.
“Don’t kid me, Charlie. Sabbatino’s trouble is a man named Wheeler, who had a long, long talk with him one day. I don’t
know what about. But I know something, Charlie. I know Wheeler works for Hubble, and Bubble is one of your clients.”
Mundin put the pencil down. “So what else is new?” he asked.
“Don’t joke, Charlie. I never used to kid youwell, I mean, not much, you know. Don’t you kid me. The folks hi the 27th are all upset. There’s a crazy rumor they’re all going to be moved into G.M.L. Homes. They don’t like the idea, the old folks don’t. Some of the young folks do, so there’s family fights. Every day, all day, all night, yelling and screaming, sometimes knives. A dozen riot calls a day in the 27th. So I asked my brother Arnie, the mechanic with G.M.L. You met him, you know what a fathead he is. But even he feels something in the organization. What?”
A secretary-ish personwith a start, Dworcas saw it was his brother’s friend, Blighput his head in the door. “Excuse me, but they phoned from the landing stage, they’re holding the D.C. copter for you.”
“Hell,” said Mundin. “Look, Norvie, thank them and ask them if they can give me five more minutes. I’ll be free shortly.” He glanced at Del Dworcas.
Dworcas stood up. “You’re pretty busy. Just one more thing. What did you want with my brother Arnie?”
Mundin stood, thoughtful and relaxed, the very model of a man who is trying to remember the answer to an unim-. portant question for courtesy’s sake.
“Never mind,” said Dworcas. “I’ll ask you some other time. I just want you to remember, I’m leveling with you.”
“Good-by, Del,” Mundin said cordially.
“Thanks, Norvie,” he said a moment later. “You were very smooth. I wonder what the hell he meant by that business about Arnie.”
“I guess Arnie mentioned I’d been to see him.”
Mundin nodded thoughtfully. “Well, the hell. Let’s walk over to Ryan’s office. We’d better hurry; the copter really does leave in twenty minutes.”
Ryan, as usual, was snoozing with great dignity at his desk. He looked good, considering. His opium was diluted and rationed to him these days; and he took it with good grace. “As long as you know you can get it, you can say ‘no’ to it
most of the tune,” he said. As a consequence bis very able brain had cleared and he was able to work as much as an hour at a time. He personally had evolved most of the seventy-eight steps in wobbling G.M.L.
Mundin reported Del’s conversation carefully. Ryan rubbed bis hands. “In effect, steps one through twenty-four are clicking nicely, hey?” he beamed. “The absolutely trustworthy G.M.L. begins to look a little shoddy at the seams for the first time; we begin to feel the unrest that will bring the whole structure down.”
Mundin flicked a teletype message. “It ties hi with the story from Princ
eton Junction, I suppose,” he said without enthusiasm. “The little piece about the doctorate thesis on Homeostasis in Housing: An Investigation into Potential Draw* backs of Controlled-Climate Dwellings.”
Ryan nodded. “The first effects,” he said. “People are questioning what has never been questioned before. But Dworcas is more significant. There is no public-opinion poll as sensitive as the judgment of a practical politician.” He chuckled. “A very pleasant miasma of doubt and confusion. The spreading rumors about the possibility of sterility in G.M.L. homesa wonderful touch. Yours, my boy, I am gratified.”
Mundin said glumly, “Wonderful. Doubt and confusion. Knifings every night in the twenty-seventh ward.” He felt regret as he saw the old man’s face droop. “Excuse me, Mr. Ryan”
“No, no.” Ryan hesitated. “You remember the state I was in when we first met?” Mundin did. “It was partly Green, Charlesworth that brought me to itpartly them, and partly conscience. Don’t strain yours too far, Charles… .”
They flew in the whirring copter to Washington, Mundin and Bligh. Mundin said fretfully, “We ought to have a couple of executive ships of our own. There’s going to be more and more ground to cover. Put some one on it, will you, Norvie?”
Bligh made a note.
Mundin asked, “What about Del’s brother? We can’t stall on it. We’ve got to have those serial numbers, or today’s work and this whole buildupis down the drain.”
“Tomorrow all right?”
“Fine, fine,” said Mundin dispiritedly. He took a briefcase
out, shuffled through reports he ought to read, memoranda he ought to sign, notes he ought to expand. Irritably he stuffed them back into the case.
Bligh said, incredibly, “Conscience, Charles.” And winked.
Mundin said glumly, “Don’t try to kid me out of it, Norvie. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t have the responsibility.” He tossed the briefcase down. “Let’s just talk; I don’t have to be a louse again until we get to the museum. How’ve things been with you?”
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