Mission: Earth Voyage of Vengeance

by Ron L. Hubbard

  Chapter 5

  I awoke late. I looked at my watch. Shock jolted through me! It was past 10:00 A. M. The court might already have opened!

  Pushing bandages out of my eyes, I gripped the viewer. Yes! A view of the courtroom!

  I freaked!

  Hastily I rang Eagle Eye. The man with the cigar-husky voice answered. "You still want that fifty G's?" I said.

  "The bounty on that woman? The one who is to be committed? The one our security officer is thirsting to nail? YES, INDEED!"

  "She's in the courtroom of Judge Hammer Twist right this moment. I do not think the court has opened. If you can get there fast you can nab her!"

  "Gone!" he said, and hung up.

  Anxiously I looked at the viewer. No, the court had not opened yet: the bench was empty. But there were lots of people in the place, from the amount of comings and goings in the front of the room. I tried to spot exactly what row she was in. I couldn't because she kept turning her head from left, where an older man was sitting, to right. The double! The Whiz Kid double was sitting next to her!

  The woman was sly and cunning but she was also stupid. The commitment order was still in force and yet all she seemed concerned about was this double. There was a briefcase on her lap. Oh, this was like bringing down a kite by parting its string!

  I looked at the other viewers. Crobe was diddling around with some awful concoction of brain cells, humming happily.

  The other viewer showed the van interior. Aha, so Heller had found them. And he was lying low, I concluded, until the Whiz Kid double spoke his piece in court.

  The lights were hurting my eyes. Too much sun in the room. I adjusted the bandages to keep most of it out.

  One thing you could say about courts: they were usually very slow and one spent most of his time on a case simply waiting and waiting. It was working in my favor.

  I went and got some coffee. My throat was very dry and the coffee didn't seem to do the trick. I got some cookies-chocolate tops with white centers. I ate the whole box. I finished off the coffee.

  I went back to the viewer.

  Aha! Action! The security officer was over by the side door talking to a court official. They were looking into the room. Then the court official shrugged, as much as to say "Go ahead," although any words were lost in the hubbub of the room.

  Two more security men came into the room. A fourth took position by the door, guarding it. The other three began to walk along the aisles in front of spectators, bending over and looking carefully into every face. They were taking lots of time with each person in the courtroom.

  The Countess was following their progress. But I was in absolute glee! She couldn't possibly get out. Even if she were in disguise, it wouldn't work, for those security men were on the watch for powder or paint.

  Judge Hammer Twist came out of the door of his chambers and somebody yelled, "All rise!"

  The audience did. But the security search kept on.

  Judge Twist took his seat at the bench. He was bright red with sunburn but there was no sign, otherwise, that he had been goofing off: he was all business. He rapped his gavel.

  They had somebody for sentencing, as the first item on the docket. A man had run off from his wife and hadn't supported her. They hauled the wretch up before the bench and the judge gave him seven years hard labor.

  Next was a burglar who had robbed offices by strangling secretaries. The judge gave him one year suspended sentence.

  Next was a bigamist who pleaded guilty. The judge gave him life imprisonment.

  Then there was the final award of judgment to an old woman who had slipped on the sidewalk in front of Baltman's. The judge announced the jury award of fifteen million dollars. "Well, Becky," said Judge Twist in an amiable voice to the plaintiff, who had just received the news of her riches, "you're doing pretty well this year. That's your third winning suit."

  "Thank you, Your Honor," the old harridan said. "And I'm not forgetting the Retirement Fund for Judges, like we arranged in chambers."

  The judge seemed to want to get rid of her quickly, for he hastily began looking all over the top of his desk.

  At that moment one of the security men stepped directly in front of my viewer and was in the act of bending forward.

  "Wister," the judge said. "I have a plea here for special hearing. Clerk, call Wister!"

  An arm went out and thrust the security man aside.

  The Whiz Kid double and the older man who had been on her left all went forward with the Countess Krak.

  Well, all right, for the instant. I was sure they had her spotted from the way that security man had scowled. Yes, he had gone over to the security officer quickly and they were talking.

  The double came to a stop before the bench.

  "This is most irregular," said the judge. "Where are your attorneys? Boggle, Gouge and Hound usually represent you."

  "They've been dismissed," the double said. "I am representing myself."

  "Oh, my!" said the judge. "This is bad business! How do you expect lawyers to get properly rich if they don't get juicy targets like you? You're pretty remunerative around here."

  "I'm afraid not now," said the double. "You see, Your Honor, I'm pleading guilty to all charges."

  "Oh, well, that doesn't make for any prolonged defense. So I will accept that you're representing your­self. Guilty. You're pleading guilty, then."

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  "All right. But to what are you pleading guilty? We have to have something in the court record to plead guilty to before we plead guilty. As you're representing yourself, I'm taking it upon myself to instruct you in your legal rights. So what are the crimes, Wister? Hey?"

  "Any suits filed against Wister are against me, not against Wister."

  "You've got me mixed up," said the judge.

  "I had a brother named Wister. The ones they got mixed up was me and my brother. To save the family honor, I freely admit I did all those things that Wister was being sued for."

  The judge was scrambling around his desk. Then he called for his clerk and they scrambled around his desk. They found something.

  "Aha," said the judge, reading a legal paper, "it appears that the women plaintiffs just withdrew their suits. Something about their finding out that you were going to do this and you didn't have any money."

  The prosecuting attorney came over hastily and whispered in the judge's ear.

  "Ah," said Judge Twist. "This charge of rape of a minor in Mexico. Very, very serious. Clerk, see if there's anything in on that. I haven't done my morning mail. Thank you, Mr. Prosecutor, for calling it to my attention. We can't have minor-raping going on, even in Mexico."

  The clerk had dived for his chambers and came back with a telegram. He handed it to the judge.

  Twist read it and began to frown very heavily. "This is pretty bad news. The request for a warrant has met with a technical flaw in wording. Let's get this straight. The State Department and the U. S. Department of Justice have communicated with the Mexican authorities... hmm. Burro stealing is no longer a crime since the Mexicans started building Volkswagens, as you can't give burros away.... Hmmm. Bad news here. Ah, yes, the technical flaw: The request asserted that the girl violated was a virgin and Mexican authorities refuse to believe that there are any virgins in Mexico, especially in the Barrio Copula. So they won't issue a warrant.... U. S. Justice wants to know if you stole a Volkswagen? Did you steal a Volkswagen, Wister?"

  "No," said the double. "I've never even been in Mexico."

  "Oh, that's neither here nor there. The point is, they've refused to issue a warrant, so we can't get you for that." Twist was getting quite angry. The sunburn went redder. "Clerk, Mr. Prosecutor, isn't there something we can get this young man for? Can't be wasting the court's time like this. Here we have a potential legal victim standing right here and nothing to charge him with! Unacceptable! Wasting the taxpayers' money! Unthinkable!"

  The clerk was tearing through his papers. He came up wi
th a legal paper. "Here's one from Dingaling, Chase and Ambo that isn't cancelled. It's a commitment order on Heavenly Joy Krackle, known Wister associate."

  The judge took it. He looked at the double. "It mentions your name." He read the order. "Aha! Commits the young woman to Bellevue! For mental examination! But it states she is not to be seen by Dr. Phetus P. Crobe. Now, that's a damnable thing. Crobe is one of our most trusted psychiatrists. You can always depend on him to get rid of unwanted people! Well! I don't have to abide by the instruction. I can commit whomever I please. Aside from being a confederate of this Wister, here, who is this Krackle?"

  The older man I had seen earlier stepped forward. "I'll take that."

  "Who are you?"

  "I am Philup Bleedum of Bleedum, Bleedum and Drayne. I am Miss Krackle's attorney." He was holding the commitment order now.

  "Well, sir, that is quite all right, but I must have Miss Krackle committed!" said the judge. "So produce her! We will send her over to Crobe at Bellevue. Can't have commitment papers unserved!"

  "I am sorry, sir," said Philup Bleedum. "But Miss Krackle, under the a.k.a. of Lissus Moam, was ordered executed at Atalanta. Could we please have a delay in this commitment order until the prior sentence is carried out?"

  A Code break! It was the truth and Philup Bleedum even had some papers and photos in his hand. All the judge had to do now was say, "Aha! An extraterrestrial," and I had her cold!

  "A delay?" said the judge. "Of course you may have a delay. Clerk, mark in your court record that that paper is to be delayed until said Heavenly Joy Krackle, a.k.a. Lissus Moam, has been executed. They do a good job at Atlanta Penitentiary. Electric-chair executions always take precedence over psychiatric electric-shock executions, and you can note my legal finding in this case for the history books. Now, let's get back to Wister."

  But what was I looking at? Philup Bleedum should have put the Krackle commitment order back on the clerk's pile. But there had been a flashing blur. A black-sleeved arm had snaked out, put something else in Bleedum's hand and taken the Krackle order back. Only a rustle of paper. A magician switch! The paper that Bleedum put on the clerk's pile was blank! Another slight rustle as the real order went out of sight into a pocket.

  "There's another order here!" said the clerk in triumph. "It was under the blotter! It consigns this Wister to Bellevue. It has not been cancelled."

  The judge eagerly took it from the clerk. He read it. "Same error here. Trying to blacken the name of Crobe. Marshal! See that this Wister is delivered to Dr. Phetus P. Crobe at Bellevue for mental examination." He looked at the double. "I knew we'd get you for something." Then to the clerk, "Next case!"

  The marshals had seized the double in efficient execution of their duties and marched him to the side exit.

  I freaked. I was so startled at the fate of that poor double that I almost missed what happened next. It was worse.

  Bleedum's back was visible as he turned and walked toward the main door.

  The security officer was there. He blocked the way. His face was glaring around Bleedum, straight at my viewer. He reached out with his thumb. He touched a spot just to my viewer's right. The thumb withdrew. He was looking at the makeup paint that had come off on it. AHA!

  Then something very peculiar happened.

  A black-sleeved arm reached out. A hand grasped the security officer by the elbow.

  The security officer got an amazed expression on his face. Then he turned and was marched into the empty hall. He stopped at the top of a long flight of stairs.

  The door to the courtroom closed behind them, shutting out the hubbub.

  "I don't think you heard the judge. Neither Heavenly Joy Krackle nor Jerome Terrance Wister are now wanted for anything at all."

  The security officer heard wide-eyed as he stood tee­tering.

  "And I think when you go to collect your fee, you'll find a hole where Dingaling, Chase and Ambo offices once stood. So skip the zeal, mister. This is the only pay you're going to get."

  And teeter, teeter, fall away.

  BLAMMETY, BLAM, BLAM!

  The security officer went down the steps all arms and legs.

  THUD! He hit the bottom.

  Philup Bleedum's face was reproving. "Was that necessary?"

  "Maybe not necessary, but oh, so satisfactory."

  Wait! Wait! There was something wrong here. I was all confused. What had I missed?

  I could see Bleedum's back as they got in an elevator.

  Then I could see down the courthouse steps.

  I saw an arm raised in signal.

  I saw a BLACK van speed up and stop at the curb.

  I saw a hand open the van side door. AND THERE INSIDE WAS THE COUNTESS KRAK!

  "We're free as birds," said Heller, as he climbed in.

  Oh, Gods! All today, due to my impaired sight, I HAD BEEN WATCHING THE WRONG VIEWER!

  It had been Heller in that courtroom! NOT the Countess Krak!

  Chapter 6

  Emergencies were piling upon emergencies thick and fast. I knew my time was running out and that the forces of evil had united their fangs against me. But I could still act.

  If Madison lost his Whiz Kid double and imagined it had been my fault, the PR man might turn on me and decide to make ME famous. Nobody could live through that.

  I called Raht on the two-way-response radio. "Crobe," I said urgently, "has become supernumerary.

  What facilities do you have? Talk fast, we haven't got much time."

  "The two guards that brought him from the base left the Zanco straitjacket. We've got a couple guards here at the New York office."

  "Good!" I said. "Tear right over to Bellevue Hospital, kidnap Crobe and send him back to base with orders to hold him there."

  "Right away!" said Raht.

  I clicked off. It was all I could come up with. I wondered if I could do more to rescue the double. Factually, I didn't feel well enough to go over to Bellevue myself-and part of this was, I had to admit, a fear that they would latch on to me. No matter how enamored one might become of the general subject of psychiatry, it was a wise thing to stay away from psychiatrists. Just because the king needs a headsman is no reason to invite the hooded axe-swinger to dinner.

  My eyes hurt and I could not see very well. I closed the shades and lay down. But I could not relax. Some sixth sense told me that the troubles I was in were coming to a crisis.

  At length-it must have been past midafternoon-I was nagged by a sense of duty. I should at least look at the viewers.

  Examining them, I saw that my mistake in getting them mixed up was quite natural. I had never marked them "Krak" or "Heller" but only K and H which look enough alike to confuse anyone.

  My enemies were back at the condo, saucy as you please. The Countess Krak, helped by her maid, was putting her clothes away. Heller was on a telephone in his condo den, talking to Florida. Izzy was uncomfortably perched in an easy chair beside the fireplace to Heller's right, staring owlishly at Heller.

  "Good enough," said Heller. "The extra canal should give you enough water for the vats, so that's okay." He hung up. He turned to Izzy. "They're doing quite well, considering. The project should be finished in a few weeks. How's it going with you, Izzy?"

  "Nerve-wracking," said Izzy. "But I can't complain. I've done a study as to how our Maysabongo company can buy up all oil reserves in the United States. But you can look at that when you come in. This is your home, after all. You shouldn't be working in it."

  The Countess Krak stepped to the door. "Goodness me. The butler didn't bring your coffee, Izzy." She called, "Balmor! Please see that Mr. Epstein gets some of that new peppermint coffee, and right away."

  "Oh, you shouldn't bother with me," said Izzy, standing now, looking at her worshipfully.

  "Nonsense," said the Countess. "After all, you're our best friend. Somebody has to look after your ulcers! Sit down. Besides, I have a question for you. Have you ever heard the initials 'F. F. B. O.'?"

 
"Why?" said Izzy guardedly, perched nervously on the chair edge.

  Heller said, "She thinks we should go on and clean this whole mess up. If we don't watch it, we'll be reforming the entire planet."

  "Well, we should clean it up," said the Countess. "Somebody was paying that double and giving him orders. And all he knew was the letter designation 'F. F. B. O.'"

  "I'd leave it alone," said Izzy. "Maybe it's a secret underground organization like the Elks. KKK stands for the Ku Klux Klan. They burn blacks and Jews. It isn't very healthy to get mixed up with things like that. Almost as bad as Indians."

  "You don't know, then," said the Countess Krak. "Well, never mind, I'll find out. Here's your coffee coming."

  I writhed. There she was, pushing, pushing, pushing! If she followed that trail it would take her to Madi­son and then to ME!

  My headache felt worse. I laid down again. I had to be in some kind of shape this evening. I must not arouse the suspicions of Adora and Candy that I had a plan and meant to run.

  A buzzing sound. The two-way-response radio. I dug it out wearily.

  "Sorry I'm so late reporting in. What I'm about to tell you happened around noon."

  "More catastrophe," I said.

  "Well, kind of," said Raht. "It's got me worried."

  "For Gods' sakes, quit garbling! Give me your report!"

  "Well, I got your order, grabbed the two guards from the office and the Zanco straitjacket and a gas bomb, stopped by the air terminal for tickets and then went to Bellevue Hospital.

  "When we asked for Crobe, Reception said he must be in, because some marshals from the court had taken a patient named Wister up to see him a while ago and had left, and Crobe was undoubtedly busy in his consulting rooms.

  "We went up. We walked into Crobe's suite. A buck-toothed kid was lying on the table and he had a shock machine half connected to him. He was out cold and a syringe was sticking in a vein. Looked like he had been drugged and was being got ready for a shock but somebody interrupted it.