A few moments later, the second Steph reappeared on the arm of my chair and said, "She'll be all right in a few minutes. I helped her to the bathroom."
Wilmot asked, "She did that on her own, didn't she? And you didn't know she could do it, did you? I saw your face when she divided herself."
I laughed shortly. "Yeah, right on both counts."
Nodding, Wilmot turned his still-staring gaze back to Stephie.
"I'll take your case," he said. "I wouldn't miss this trolleycar for the world."
The Stephanie in the chair said, "It could turn out to be a long, ugly legal battle, judging from what I've read of such cases. I'd hate to have to look for another lawyer before it's over, Mr. Wilmot."
Wilmot sat fairly straight and said, "Ms. Montgomery. When I accept a case, I see it through unless extenuating circumstances come to light and can't be rectified."
"What sort of circumstances would those be in my case?"
"I can think of only one at present," said Wilmot. "But I don't think you've lied to me about either your combined goals or your ability to qualify as an individual."
His gaze turned to me and there was a long moment of silence before he said, "But you, sir, appear to be more concerned with how much the gold will bring, even though you said it was secondary."
"I am," I said. "The gold is secondary, but still crucial. Stephie isn't completely dependent on her flitter's engine for power. Even if her engine died and a replacement was unavailable, she could function indefinitely as you see her now using broadcast power."
"I'm not quite following you," said Wilmot. "How does this relate to the value of the gold?"
"What I'm saying is that Stephie could conceivably live forever or close to it, so if they don't certify her as a person this year, she'll have plenty of time for trying again. But I won't live forever, Mr. Wilmot, and I'd like to be around to see Stephie succeed at this, so I'd like to get the matter of her autonomy into a courtroom soon. The problem is; we can't pay you or any other major legal fees unless the gold is sold."
I watched his eyes during my last words, but he remained impassive, so I continued, "We also probably can't conveniently open a major bank account in Stephie's name until the gold is turned to money. We might not be able to open that account in her name at all, conveniently or otherwise, until she's achieved legal individuality, but if that's the case, we'll just stash the money somewhere else. As I see it, we could probably file the necessary residency papers for her and set things in motion fairly cheaply, but the followup crap and repeated appearances in a case like this could be damned expensive."
Chapter Ten
Wilmot picked up the gold coin he'd been studying and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the coin in his hand for a few moments, then tossed it into the box with the others.
"You want a two-pronged, simultaneous attack on this matter that would use the treasure as a sort of bait," he said. "I advise against that. We can show the gold around quietly this week and next. Immediate and ongoing sales can be handled through foreign brokers and the proceeds can be banked in a numbered foreign account. We could literally buy Ms. Montgomery a legally-recognized residency in any of several rather greedy little countries, and we could then file and fund her legal petition for US recognition without tax controversy that might hinder the process."
"Everybody'd know that she simply bought her status if she got it from some third-rate banana republic. It would only be as valid as the current regime."
Stephanie asked, "But if I had legal status in any other country, wouldn't that status be recognized here in the US?"
"Probably, but you wouldn't be able to vote," I said. "Among other things. And if you want to reside here indefinitely, you'd need a renewable visa, which might be very hard to get. Better to fight the battle for your independence in the US or one of the NATO countries. Their stamps of recognition would hold a little more water than one from someplace like Nicaragua or Panama."
Wilmot said, "True enough. Ms. Montgomery..."
"Call me Stephanie, or Steph. Or Stephie."
Nodding, Wilmot said, "Stephanie, if you can manifest yourself this way in my office, is there any reason you couldn't do the same in an INS office?"
Steph shook her head and said, "No, none at all. The 'me' you're seeing is a manifestation of field energy."
"Does your flitter have to be nearby in order for you to appear?"
Again she shook her head. "No. The flitter could be anywhere on Earth. I manipulate broadcast power to create these field images."
Wilmot rubbed his face and gazed at her for a moment, then said, "We could simply attempt to process you as we would any other illegal immigrant. Under the "Legal Immigration and Family Equity" act, you could conceivably qualify as having -- and I quote, here -- 'a specialized job skill and a potential employer who will petition for you'. This option hinges on there not being an American available for the job, but I'm sure Mr. Howdershelt would offer you such a job."
"Sure would, and you can call me Ed."
"And you can both call me George," said Wilmot. "This is March third. The 'LIFE' program is a temporary revival of an old immigration provision called 245(i), and it closes to further applicants on April 30th. There's a $1000 fine assessed up front for being in the US illegally, but I don't foresee that being a problem. If they can find a way to accept your money, they'll have laid the groundwork for further recognition."
Stephie asked, "What if they simply keep the money and later fail to approve my application for residency?"
"Then we take them to court. If they won't recognize you as an illegal alien, they'll have no business assessing a fine, but if they take the money, they'll open the door to further proceedings."
Turning to me, he said, "As I said, her legality and the gold are two separate issues. We need only show that Stephanie is solvent and self-supporting in her own right and that she can do something for which an American can't conveniently be found. A few thousand dollars in a foreign account in her name will quell any question of her solvency, and I believe it won't be too difficult to demonstrate that she possesses the required specialized skills to qualify."
I asked, "What if they ask where her money came from?"
"They'll have no right to ask and neither of you will have an obligation to answer. Direct anyone asking such questions to me."
He pressed a button on his phone and called his secretary.
"Yes, sir?" she answered.
"Mrs. Javitz, please bring a pad and an extra chair."
"No," said Steph. "I mean, no extra chair is necessary. She can use mine."
With that, the Stephie who'd been seated by the desk disappeared and the Stephie who perched on the arm of my chair smiled at us.
Wilmot recovered quickly and said, "As the lady said, no extra chair, Mrs. Javitz."
"Yes, sir."
Wilmot regarded Stephie quietly for some moments as Mrs. Javitz came in and sat down. Mrs. Javitz crossed her legs and prepared to take notes, all the while staring at Stephie, then abruptly turned to face Wilmot. He issued her a list of general and specific instructions concerning preparation of Stephie's INS documents, then told Mrs. Javitz to see if she could reach a man named Donald Jeffries.
"Jeffries will be our gold broker," said Wilmot. "He's handled similar finds and he's known for discretion. Tomorrow, I want you to go to this bank" -- he pulled a business card from his middle desk drawer and handed it to me -- "And open a numbered account in Stephanie's name. Do you have $2,000 for this purpose?"
"I can get it from my bank tomorrow," I said.
George nodded. "Good. Jeffries will need the account number for deposits. You'll be talking to him in this office sometime in the next few days. We'll work out his commissions and other such details then."
Steph asked, "What if the bank won't open an account for me?"
Wilmot picked up Stephie's CW passport and said, "I'll call ahead for you and set it up. This is all you'll need if you
have the $2,000."
Handing Stephie's passport to Mrs. Javitz, he said, "Take Ms. Montgomery into your office and get her particulars for the forms, please. We'll be filing them late in early April. Right now, I'd like a few words with Mr. Howdershelt."
The ladies rose and left the room, and as the door shut behind them, George said, "Some people won't take this well at all, you know."
He went on to mention various other 'firsts' that had incurred the wrath of social and religious powers and individuals; 'firsts' such as integration in the South.
I shrugged. "Screw 'em. Some people never take anything new very well."
George Wilmot seemed to think that he wasn't getting through to me.
"I'm talking about the same kinds of people who shoot clinic doctors and cite religious reasons for their actions." He paused, then added, "You can expect to be opposed, and possibly violently opposed, no matter what the government says."
"I've faced them before over Amarans and other issues. If you believe there's danger ahead, why'd you take the case?"
Wilmot fiddled with his pen for a moment, then quietly said, "I'm sixty-three. This case will make history, one way or other. If I had to, I'd do it pro bono." He looked up quickly. "Not that I'm offering to do that, of course. You aren't exactly broke."
I laughed. "No sweat. I didn't think you were offering, George."
Wilmot's phone beeped once. He pressed a button and Mrs. Javitz said that the appointment she'd been unable to cancel had just walked into the foyer. She was still holding the button as she greeted the newcomer with, "Hello, Mrs..."
Cutting her off, a woman's harsh voice asked, "Is he in there?"
George sighed and said, "My ex-wife. I can't put this one on hold, Ed, so I'm going to have to ask you to give us some privacy. Please leave one of the gold bars with Mrs. Javitz for verification. She'll give you another receipt for that purpose."
"No problem," I said, tossing one of his business cards in the box with the gold items. "I'll see if I'm needed out front. If not, I'll just head back to Spring Hill."
The overdressed, bejeweled matron who came in as I was leaving eyed me doubtfully, glancing at my cardboard box. Her skeptical gaze swept over my fatigue shirt, jeans, and rubber-soled golf shoes, then returned to my face.
While looking at me, she said, "I'd been led to believe that you handled a better class of clientele, George."
I didn't look to see how George had taken her comment. I simply opened the box to let her see the coins and two gold bars, then closed it. Her eyes widened briefly, then met mine again.
"Is that all of it?" she asked coolly.
"Nope. There's five hundred pounds or more. That's why I need a lawyer."
Her eyes widened again. "Why are you leaving? Didn't George take your case?"
"If he had, would I be leaving?" I turned to Wilmot and said, "Thanks for the advice. Are you sure that one little coin will be enough?"
George smiled and said, "It covers the visit and your friend's INS papers, Ed. Don't worry about it."
After the door closed behind me, I heard the woman almost scream, "One goddamned lousy little coin?! What the hell's wrong with you, George? Why didn't you take that case?"
George said, "It really wrinkles your ass, doesn't it, Louise? What's the matter? Afraid you might miss a few bucks in your next alimony check?"
With a smile, I left the doorway to approach the ladies, who were just beginning their journey through a stack of government forms. I took one of the gold bars out of the box and set it on her desk.
Mrs. Javitz looked up and said, "Half an hour or so, then I can have her sign everything and let her go."
Mrs. Javitz photographed the gold bar twice with an instant-picture camera, then made out another receipt and stapled it to one of the pictures before handing it to me.
"Thanks," I said, then to Stephie, "See you later, miLady. Use my address and phone as contacts, but not as local residence info. Let any correspondence come through this office."
Mrs. Javitz seemed perplexed. "But I thought you came together."
"We did," said Steph.
"Well, don't you need a ride back to Spring Hill?"
Steph shook her head and said, "I'll be in the flitter with him while I'm here with you. When we're finished, I'll delete this image."
Mrs. Javitz sat very still for a moment, then drew herself upright and said, "Oh. I see. Yes. Well, I guess we should get to work, then."
I left them to their task and headed for the elevators. There were too many people around to talk to Steph, so I waited until I was outside on the sidewalk. The flitter was descending to the street as I spoke.
"Helluva trick, Steph. You've never split yourself like that before."
"I never had a reason to do it like that before. Convincing Mr. Wilmot quickly seemed to me to be a good reason."
As soon as I'd put the box down and taken a seat, the flitter started rising. I ignored the people who were staring from the sidewalks and windows and reached for a Dr Pepper. Someone on about the eighth floor of a nearby building was taking pictures.
Steph said, "Mrs. Wilmot just left the office. She seemed very upset."
"She's a greedy hog who thinks George just turned down a big piece of gold."
"Why did you give her that impression, Ed?"
"Hard to say, Steph. She seemed to need a poke in the snout. Apparently George didn't tell her otherwise, so he must have agreed with me."
Chapter Eleven
As I prepared for a weekend away from home, Steph materialized a field and put up some pictures of various female volleyball players in the midst of doing dramatic things to spike or save the ball. She then told me that she felt that she'd be able to hold her own in a conversation about the game.
"...And, lo, it came to pass..." I intoned, leaving the rest of the quote unspoken.
"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Steph. "Can't I show a little interest in something without being teased for it?"
"Stephie, you've never showed one whit of interest in volleyball or any other team sport since I've known you. Why now?"
"I thought you might appreciate it if I shared an interest in things that interest you, Ed. Was I wrong?"
"Only partly. Volleyball doesn't interest me any more than any other team sport, either. I go because Selena's playing and everyone wears bikinis. Can't say as I give a damn who wins, other than how it affects Selena."
"So I've wasted my time by gathering this information?"
"As far as I'm concerned, yeah. Sorry 'bout that. It could come in handy if you want to win some bar bets, I guess. By the way, you do realize that popping in and out will be by request only during some parts of the weekend, right?"
Steph said, "Of course. I could remain aboard the flitter, if you'd prefer, Ed. Would you rather I didn't attend the game, as well?"
"I didn't say that, did I? I'm just talking about my private time with Selena, not the game, and you know it. Sure, Steph. Come along. I like having you with me."
"Are you sure that you don't mean that you like how my presence affects others?"
"Well, that, too, but think of all the times we've knocked around by ourselves, Steph. I sure as hell don't need other people around to appreciate you."
She popped into being beside me as I was making a coffee for the road. I didn't look up from spooning a precise amount of instant coffee into my mug.
"Thank you, Ed. You've always made me feel special."
As I reached for the hot water, I said, "That's 'cause you are, miLady."
"I think I've come up with the appropriate outfit to wear to the game. Would you like to see it?"
"Sure, Steph."
I glanced up and smiled at her, then realized what I'd just seen and took another look. Stephie was wearing a 'well, what do you think of this?' expression and a subdued, emerald-flake bikini.
My gaze traveled from her emerald slippers up her legs and torso to her face. The word 'perfect' seemed to
tally inadequate to describe her. I wondered how many times she'd been reading my responses as I'd watched a movie in order to determine precisely what sort of female figure appealed most to me.
"Well," I said, trying to gather my thoughts and take my eyes off her thighs. "Jesus, that's some outfit, Steph. What's the occasion?"
She looked slightly puzzled as she said, "The game, Ed. You said everyone would be wearing bikinis. I took that to mean only the women, of course, since men don't..."
"Steph, only the women players will be wearing bikinis."
Her expression changed to one of abashed surprise. I knew that she was verifying my answer in the split-second before she said, "If I had reviewed Selena's other games, I'd have known that. You must sometimes think that I'm a complete idiot."
I shook my head slightly and said, "No. You're right, I did say 'everyone', and we caught the error before it could happen in public, not that it wouldn't have been one helluva show. Were you reading me when you appeared in that bikini?"
With a thoroughly innocent expression, she asked, "Should I have been?"
"A yes or no would be more appropriate, ma'am."
She shrugged with a slight tilt of the head -- new move, that -- and said, "Yes."
"Then you already know how you've affected me. Take my reaction as a compliment and put some clothes on. Please."
"But I thought you'd like..."
"No buts, Steph. Just do it, and please don't appear damned near naked around me again. It could become very frustrating for me to see you like that very often."
She materialized her usual casual outfit, a skirt and jacket with a pale green blouse, and stood quietly regarding me as I finished making my coffee.
When I turned to face her again, she grinningly asked, "That good, huh?"
I grinned back at her. "Oh, yeah. That good," I said. "Stunningly beautiful, but save it for the beach."
Tiger floated into the kitchen on one of Elkor's translucent pads. He was sitting in the center of the disk, his tail curled around his paws, as he studied us.
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