Modus Vivendi Page 4

resoundingly successful defense," he observed.

  "And a resoundingly bad press!" I said. "I have a living to make inthis town--"

  "Psis are still citizens," he said. "I'm tired of seeing them thrownto the wolves by the jackals who practice law from a phone booth. Psisdeserve a decent defense. Without you, Crescas would be in prison."

  "And without _you_," I growled at him, "I might still have a lawpractice."

  "So you're helping them find Mary Hall--to embarrass me?"

  "I've already found her," I said. "Feel embarrassed?"

  "Not yet," he conceded. "What are you planning to do?"

  "We've accepted a fee to turn her over to a client," I revealed. "Iguess that's not unethical to tell you."

  "And you'll do that?"

  "After one more step."

  "And that is?"

  "Prove that she hasn't got the Stigma."

  "_Hasn't_ got it!" He hopped out of his chair and pressed his knuckleson my desk.

  "You'd better do a little more research, if you're going to let yourblack heart bleed over these Stigma cases, Judge," I grinned at him."All this talk about Mary Hall using HC on your vision. That willnever embarrass you. There isn't such a thing as HC--hallucination isan old wives' tale. It was sleight of hand, in the bank and in yourcourtroom. Don't stand still for that noise about HC."

  "I'll be switched," he said. "You're serious?"

  "Sure."

  He frowned at me. "She's still in trouble," he reminded me. "TheFederal Grand Jury--"

  "Restitution ought to cure that," I said. "Especially if we threaten alawsuit for slander--I think it's libelous to claim a Normal has theStigma. Mutual release all around."

  "You'll represent her?" he asked.

  "Would you consider it ethical? I don't see how my assignment to turnMary Hall over to your political opponents will stop me fromrepresenting her in a lawsuit, do you?"

  He shook his head, straightening up. "I don't see how," he agreed. "Ihope you do defend her, Maragon. The Courts have had to be prettytough on these pathetic people. If they had reputable representatives,I for one would be a lot more ready to suspend sentences and findother ways to help them out of the jams their weird powers get theminto."

  "I'll think about it," I said. "In the meantime--stay away from me."

  "We're both poison right now," he agreed. "And thanks."

  * * * * *

  Mary Hall was still at T-shirted Elmer's when I dialed his phone, andshe agreed to meet me on the street in front of the Moldy Fig. My'copter had barely settled to the pavement when she came running fromthe doorway to the stairs and hopped into the bubble with me.

  "Columbia University," I told the hacker. "Rhine Building."

  Professor Lindstrom was waiting for us in his laboratory, in carpetslippers and without his tie. "Laboratory" is a perfectly silly term.The "apparatus" in any Psi lab is no more complicated than a foldingscreen, some playing cards, perhaps a deck of Rhine ESP cards and aslide rule. This place went so far as to sport a laboratory bench anda number of lab stools, on which Lindstrom, Mary Hall and I perched.My egghead Psi expert was barely able to restrain himself--he had somebitter things to tell me.

  I beat him to it. "Take that injured glower off your puss," I snapped."Your business is testing people for their Psi powers. Why shouldn't Icall on you for help? What are friends for?"

  "For a friend I might," Lindstrom said. "You don't rate that well withme any more."

  "I'll try to bear up under it," I told him. "In the meantime, this isMary Hall, a reputed Psi. Her power is HC."

  He was interested in spite of himself. "Hallucination?" he said. "Wedon't see much of that, Miss Hall. And you claim you can demonstratethis power under controlled conditions?" These eggheads all talkalike.

  Mary shook her head. "No, I certainly do not. I'm as Normal as youare, Professor." He sagged slightly in disappointment.

  "Well," Lindstrom said. "This is going to be difficult to prove, MissHall. Merely by withholding your HC ability, you can act Normal--butwhat would that prove?"

  She turned to me. "I thought you said you had a way to get me off thehook," she protested. "How are we--?"

  "Quiet," I told her. "I didn't come up here for a lecture in logic.Especially from a dumb blonde." She started to bristle, but thoughtbetter of it.

  "It goes like this, Prof," I said. "This innocent looking piece offluff was caught slipping a five-dollar bill to a teller at a bankdown town, and asking for change for a hundred dollar bill. She saysit was nothing more than sleight of hand. You are an experiencedobserver. I want you to watch her work her little trick. If she canfool us, and not use Psi, the legal position is that she didn't needPsi to fool the teller." I turned to her. "And the logical principle,Miss Aristotle," I told her, "is equally simple: Occam's Razor. Preferthe simpler explanation. Can you show us how you palmed the hundredand slipped the teller a five?"

  "You'll be watching for it," Mary protested, letting those ripe lipspout.

  "I suppose the teller wasn't? It's his business to watch the billswhen he's making change." I took out my wallet and handed her a oneand a five. "Hand me the one and make me think it's the five," I said.

  Lindstrom leaned his elbows on the black composition top of the labbench, watching her narrowly. Mary got down off her stool and cameover closer to me, smoothing the two bills in her fingers. The fivewas on top.

  "I'd like change for a five," she said, handing it to me. She workedit three times while we watched.

  "Utterly smooth," Lindstrom said. "I didn't see her make the switch."

  "Me, too," I agreed. I could see the tension drain from Mary's face.She was prettier when she wasn't worried. She was pretty all the time,when you got right down to it. No wonder she could fool a teller. Heprobably hadn't taken his eyes off that dazzling smile.

  "Is that all?" Lindstrom asked.

  "Would you certify that you saw her make these switches, and that Psiwas not involved?" I asked him.

  "Of course. I don't want to, but, if you call me as a witness, I'lltestify to what I saw," he said glumly.

  "It may not be necessary," I said. "I really ought to call you, justto teach you some manners, Prof. But then, we all have a right to be alittle yellow."

  Mary would have preferred to remain in silence as we rode a cab backto the Moldy Fig, and huddled over in her corner of the bubble. Therewasn't enough light, that high over the city, to read her expression.

  "Here's the strategy," I said, about midtown. "If we can get the Bankto agree to restitution, and to sign an admission that you did not useHC or any other Psi powers to work your theft, I think you'll be offthe hook. I doubt the Federal Jury will listen to an information."

  "I hope you're right."

  "This is my business," I growled. "Do you want me to represent you?"

  She didn't answer that until the 'copter had grounded in front of theFig. "All right," she said. "I don't know what you're so mad at allthe time, but it doesn't seem to be me. I'd like you to represent me."

  I watched her scoot across the sidewalk and run up the stairs toElmer's place. For some screwy reason I hoped she had another place tohole up for the night. I was getting as bad as Renner--lookinglecherously at the raffish display of shapely leg as the blondbombshell beat it.

  * * * * *

  I directed my hacker to my apartment, and grabbed the phone in thebubble. The Mobile Operator got me Vito Passarelli at his home. Hesounded as if he had already retired.

  "This is you know who," I said. "It's late, I know, but we'd bettertalk before morning. My apartment is the safest spot I can think of.I'm in the Directory."

  "Now?"

  "Now."

  I beat His Honor to my apartment by long enough to hang up my jacket,turn the ceiling on to a dim but friendly glow and get out a bottle ofScotch. Judges don't drink bourbon.

  I let Passarelli in when the buzzer sounded. "I'm reasonably surethere are no microphones
in this place," I said. "This Mary Hall thingis getting hot--we'd better start taking precautions."

  "Always," he said, running a hand over his balding head. His eyes