Mission Earth 09 - Villainy Victorious

by Villainy Victorious [lit]

  Madison found himself in a parlor, drinking hot jolt. He listened while Ske, Gris's old driver, poured out his tale of woe, interrupted with curses and tales of woe of her own by Meeley. He gathered that Gris had given them both counterfeit bills and had they tried to pass them they would have been executed. But, knowing Gris, instead they had gone straight to the Finance Police with complaints of their own. Their bitterness against Gris had bound them close together.

  Oh, yes, they'd testify at any trial. Gladly, gladly, gladly! At a lecture? Well, they were not really very pre­sentable but they'd be only too glad to say anything Madi­son wanted.

  Smiling like a toother that was all set to snap up his prey, Madison returned to the townhouse in Joy City. He ignored dinner. There was no time for that. He called his whole staff together.

  He stood upon the platform in the briefing room. He stood very tall.

  "Loyal and hard working staff," he said, "this is a milestone. At times PR finds itself on a pinnacle. We are about to influence the courses of empires. We are about to direct the very destiny of the stars. Now listen closely."

  Chapter 5

  Two days later, a very select audience of ninety women sat in the lecture hall on the eightieth floor of the townhouse, conscious that they were being especially favored by an invitation to this highly educational lec­ture by the famous Doctor Crobe.

  They were also conscious, but this was never men­tioned, that if they didn't cooperate, they would never again get another chance to "get cured" at Relax Island. Also-although this, too, was never even hinted at-if they weren't agreeable, somebody might forget to renew their free supply of pot.

  What was discussed amongst themselves and to oth­ers quite freely was that, as members of high society, they had a positive duty to use their positions-and their husbands-to do good. It didn't have a spoken name but they were all members of a very exclusive club made up entirely of those fortunate enough to have been "enlight­ened" at Relax Island.

  Madison had had a little trouble with Crobe. He had sneaked an extra dose of LSD into himself outside his rationing and two roustabouts had had to stand him up in alternate hot and cold showers to bring him around.

  He stood now on the lecture platform, aware that he would get a small jolt through his hidden electric collar if he goofed up, and steadied himself against the desk.

  "Ladies," he said, repeating what the ear speaker told him to, "you are aware that as the chosen inner cir­cle of the enlightened few, your... your social... social position has responsibilities. The society we live in is... is unfortunately a cesspool of unrestrained insanity and monstrous abuses. Lurking, hidden, out of sight... out of sight from common and unenlightened view, the brains of men ... seethe with lusts and ferocity unimag­ined. It frightens me to see the dangers to which this soci­ety is exposed and how ill it... it... it handles them. It requires stern measures louder it requires STERN MEASURES!" He took a deep breath and steadied him­self with his fingers against the desk top.

  "Lean forward. There is a case so monstrous, would you know it, that I do not even describe it to you lean back and stop. You are, after all, gently nurtured ladies and I must not speak of it lest I offend your ears don't go on."

  "No, no," cried Lady Arthrite Stuffy in the front row, well aware of her position as the leader of this select group. "Go on, go on! Do not be afraid to offend our ears."

  "Oh, yes, go on!" came others' calls.

  "Look as though you need coaxing," said Crobe.

  "We don't need coaxing!" cried a woman. "Tell us!"

  "Go ahead. Well, this case, ladies, is so shout it vile that you will cringe. It is a singular and notable case. It is so notable that it falls totally outside the Freudian band of psychosexual pathology!"

  "No!" came several cries.

  "The case," said Crobe, "is not anal. It is not oral. It is not genital! It is not even latent! Shout a monster."

  The women looked appalled.

  Crobe sat down suddenly in a chair. "A woman has come forward to describe this case as an eyewitness. Intro­duce her."

  Meeley came forward timidly to the platform. Then took confidence from the expectant female faces. "What he says," said Meeley, "is true. I was his landlady. He never had women in his room. He closed the door when he went to the bathroom. He never spoke properly to any­one. When he wasn't sneaking in and out, he was lurking in the dirt and filth of his room. There is no describing his obscene and awful thoughts. He also plotted day and night to get me executed just because I used to smile at him and wish him good day. When he skipped out we could find no one to occupy his room. It had such an awful reputation that it is empty yet!" She broke down sobbing and an usher led her off.

  Then came Ske. "I was," he said, "his long-suffer­ing driver. The deprivations I experienced during that unhappy period of my life have left a brand upon me so deep that my very soul is seared. He used to sit in the airbus trying to hide the grinding of his teeth. And for my faithful service he tried to get me executed. I cannot describe the obscenities that surrounded him!" He broke down as coached and fled the platform.

  Old Bawtch came forward. "I was his chief clerk and it ruined my life. The murders and crimes of this man, strung end to end, would reach half across the universe.

  The insane things he did culminated in orders to take my life."

  He left the platform. Crobe, somewhat revived, stood up. "Now, ladies, you can plainly see that insanity rages. The diagnosis of this case is so monstrous that in all the annals of psychiatry there has never been one like it. I have simply look calm and professorial brought up the case to show you how the claws of insanity have dug into the very depths of our culture look like that's the end."

  "Wait!" cried Lady Arthrite. "Who is this case and where is he?"

  "Look toward the door. Is the man who informed me of this case still here?"

  "Yes," said an usher promptly.

  An actor dressed as a warder of the Royal prison came in reluctantly. He was wearing a mask. "Doctor Crobe," he said, "I told you about this case for the good of the society. If it got out that I had informed you of what the government is doing, it could cause me to lose my job."

  "Tell them tell them they will all regard your iden­tity as inviolate."

  The actor turned. "The man is being held in the Royal prison to avoid his being brought to trial. He sits in his cell, protected. What is feared is that if he ever was put before a judge, the things he would divulge would shake the government to its very foundations. Even if they tried him, it would be done in secret. What we ward­ers fear is that he will be released upon the society through a back door and strew the streets with the grue­somely mangled bodies of the poor and innocent. While I know naught of your psychiatry, from just viewing him in his cell, I would say that, in a long career of handling malefactors, he is easily the worst I have ever seen. He defies all descriptions! Yet THEY are hiding and defend­ing him."

  "What is his name?" said Lady Arthrite Stuffy in an enraged voice.

  "His name," said the actor, "is Soltan Gris!"

  Chapter 6

  Like a maestro conducting a vast orchestra, J. Walter Madison went to work on Soltan Gris.

  The highest social circles of Voltar were buzzing about the scandal and, quite in addition to demands from their wives, publishers and editors could not turn anywhere without colliding with the outrage.

  The first headlines read:

  MYSTERIOUS PRISONER

  HIDDEN BY AUTHORITIES

  And this was quickly followed up with:

  WHO IS THE

  GOVERNMENT REFUSING

  TO BRING TO TRIAL?

  And then:

  IDENTITY REVEALED!

  PRISONER IS

  APPARATUS OFFICER

  SOLTAN GRIS!

  Quickly then, edition after edition and day after day, the documented catalogue of the crimes of Apparatus Officer Soltan Gris began to appear, each one juicier than the last.

  They b
egan with:

  APPARATUS OFFICER

  GRIS ILLEGALLY

  EXPORTED METALS

  Immediately after that:

  APPARATUS OFFICER

  GRIS ORDERED MURDER

  OF OWN OFFICE HEAD

  AND CLERKS

  And then:

  APPARATUS OFFICER

  ORDERS MURDER OF

  MOTHER OF

  DEFENSELESS BOY

  And a picture of the sobbing Twolah and faked pho­tos of his mother's body and funeral began to send rip­ples of rage through the population.

  It was at this time that Lord Turn received a viewer-phone call from no less a social leader than Lady Arth­rite Stuffy.

  "Lord Turn," said Lady Arthrite, "I do not think you realize that public opinion is growing. WHEN are you going to bring that prisoner to trial?"

  "Lady Arthrite," said Lord Turn, "would you please keep your nose out of the affairs of the Royal prison?" And hung up.

  This, as it was recorded, gave the Daily Speaker an exclusive:

  JUDGE TELLS PUBLIC

  "HANDS OFF GRIS!"

  This, of course, made all the other papers livid: they had been scooped. They began to bombard Lord Turn with tricky calls of their own. This made Lord Turn furi­ous. He was so angry that he refused to explain anything to anyone. The headlines grew worse and worse.

  Now, unfortunately for Soltan Gris, when he had been blackmailing the Provocation Section of the Appa­ratus, the head of that section had been radio-recording back to his own office down by the River Wiel during the whole time that he had been shadowing Gris to get the goods on him. And a recording of every single one of these crimes Gris had pulled at that time existed, with pictures and sound, in the Provocation Section. Gris, unaware of this, thought he had handled it with the final murder of that chief. And now Madison began to feed these crimes one at a time to the press.

  HYPNOTIST MURDERED

  BY APPARATUS

  OFFICER GRIS

  And then:

  SUPPLY COLONEL

  MURDERED BY

  APPARATUS OFFICER GRIS

  And then:

  ELECTRONICS WIZARD

  SPURK FOULLY SLAIN

  BY APPARATUS OFFICER

  GRIS

  BURNS THIRD OF

  ELECTRONICS INDUSTRIAL

  QUARTER TO HIDE

  VICIOUS CRIME

  And the final one of the series was complete with photographs of a body falling ten thousand feet.

  BROTHER APPARATUS

  OFFICER SLAIN IN

  DASTARDLY EFFORT

  TO HIDE DAMNABLE

  CRIMES

  The footage was even shown on Homeview, which was beginning to take an interest.

  The question was starting to buzz through the streets: If the government had an officer who had been committing all these crimes, just why was it refusing to bring the villain to trial?

  But Madison was saving a piece de resistance.

  When Bawtch had been overheard chortling "he had Gris now" and about a forgery, he had NOT been talking about the Royal signature forgeries at all. At that time, he didn't even know about them.

  Gris, in his carelessness, had left the old cloak of Prahd's beside his office desk. He had intended it to be found beside the River Wiel. And in that cloak he had wrapped a very bad forgery, a suicide note. Unfortu­nately, he had written it on a piece of paper which had been under a document when he stamped it for Bawtch. And dimly under the writing on the Prahd suicide note could be seen the identoplate outline of Soltan Gris!

  The recorded strips of the dead Provocation Section officer had shown Soltan Gris calling on Prahd Bittle­stiffender.

  All evidence for a murder charge was there. So Madi­son, through one of his reporters, called the attention of the Domestic Police to the crime.

  The Domestic Police traced it down, accompanied by a horde of reporters, and found that young Dr. Prahd Bittlestiffender was nowhere to be found. They then issued a warrant for the arrest of Soltan Gris.

  Young Dr. Prahd, the most promising cellologist to graduate for some time, was extolled by his professors as a real loss to his profession. The act of cutting him down in his early youth could be looked upon as a crime against the whole population, who so desperately needed his services. The act of a madman!

  HEADLINES!

  Then the Domestic Police asked Lord Turn for the custody of Gris so they could try him and execute him. It was, of course, refused.

  HEADLINES!

  The questions began to race through the population. Why was the government protecting this raving lunatic of an Apparatus officer? Why would they not let him be brought to trial?

  Written by his ex-Royal Academy of Arts reporter, Madison began to circulate the words and music of a bal­lad. It was printed on a single sheet and seemed to be the creation of an unknown. Shortly it was being reprinted in the press and sung on every hand. It went:

  In the name of the government he murdered and kitted.

  Many an innocent victim he has chilled.

  He is an Apparatus officer!

  Why does the government love this cur?

  He grows fat on his victim's blood,

  Then with glee stamps them in the mud.

  Coddled and protected for his crime,

  They extoll his virtues as sublime.

  We are demanding his life should cease.

  WE WANT THE BLOOD OF SOLTAN GRIS!

  Mobs took to marching in the streets singing it at the tops of their voices.

  Actually, some time since, J. Walter Madison had fully expected Lord Turn to simply give in and say, "All right. I'll try him." And in the case of the Domestic Police, "Here he is. Try the Hells out of him."

  If he could only get Gris on the stand accusing Hel­ler, Madison knew he would have it made.

  But he had reached an impasse. The fury boiling in the streets was not moving Lord Turn up there in his high castle.

  Other measures were needed.

  Chapter 7

  Madison was busy far into the night, laying out his plans. There were several things he had to do. Amongst the first of them was to keep Lombar Hisst hopeful.

  Accordingly, one morning, Madison caught Hisst at his desk before the closed door of the Emperor's bed­room. Hisst was going over the details of the invasion plan of Earth.

  "How soon," he greeted Madison, "do you suppose we can have the cooperation of the Army and the Fleet? If they can supplant our Apparatus forces now active in the Calabar revolt, we can get on with invading Blito-P3 and bring it to heel."

  "I'm working on that project day and night," said Madison. "In fact, that's what I'm here to see you about: that and the far more important question of making you Emperor. You see, all these things tie together neatly."

  "How?" said Hisst.

  "It's simply a matter of image," said Madison. "With enough image, you can do anything. Now what I need to know is what exact image do you favor? How do you want the public to think of you?"

  Lombar sat back. His yellow eyes grew dreamy. "Totally formidable," he said finally.

  "That's what I thought," said Madison. "A man of iron will. One who will brook no nonsense. The public yearns for strong and merciless control. The figure of a vengeful God."

  "Exactly," said Lombar Hisst. "I have finally discov­ered why I listen to you. You are extremely perceptive and are not afraid to speak the truth to your superior."

  "I only do my duty," said Madison. "Now, I know that you are very busy. But it just so happens that there are some riots going on at this minute in Slum City. It is a marvelous opportunity to create image. The mob is being contained by two battalions of the Apparatus. I have a camera crew standing by. If your good judgment tells you that you should utilize this priceless oppor­tunity to create image, we can go there in your private tank and you'll be on Homeview in a trice."

  "A mob," said Lombar, "that needs quelling? Where's my cap and stinger?"

  An hour and a half
later, Lombar stomped up the steps of the prepared stand before the faces of an assem­bled five thousand people. The Slum City square was cordoned off. For once Madison had not had to put out any money for extras or actors in such a demonstration. Due to the Gris publicity, the two Apparatus Death Battalions were having more trouble keeping additional spectators out than containing the ones that were in: they had tank roadblocks on every side street that entered the area.

  Madison had handed Lombar his speech. It was a good speech: the horror-story writer, under Madison's close direction, had been up all night writing it.

  In his red general's uniform, Lombar loomed above the crowd. The speakers boomed as he began to read his speech.

  "Citizens of Voltar! You are misguided. Law and or­der must triumph every time above mob rule. Our domes­tic tranquillity must not be shattered by questions and challenge of your government. I stand here, strong and powerful, formidable and determined to crush all oppo­sition to the sovereign state. In me you see the image of stern power! I will not ever retreat from my stern duty to bring all malefactors to trial."

  A wave of satisfaction swept through the vast throng. Madison's camera crew, supplemented by three more camera crews from Homeview on the manager's own ini­tiative, were carrying this speech to all Voltar and, on delay, to every other planet.

  "I will have you know," roared Lombar, in fine form, "that the characters of Apparatus officers should not be impugned by the crimes of Soltan Gris. Appa­ratus officers are men of sterling virtue and unblemished honor. I am proud to number myself amongst them and to be their chief.

  "The rivers of blood spilled by Gris, the graveyards jammed with corpses, are all the work of Gris and Gris alone. This foul fiend must not damage the brilliant inno­cence of other Apparatus officers or mine!