Mission: Earth Death Quest

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Mission: Earth Death Quest Page 18

by Ron L. Hubbard


  Fifteen minutes later, I stood before a shabby build­ing. It had a porno store on the first floor. It had a massage parlor on the second. The local chapter of the National Association of Mental Stealth was on the third floor. It was the fourth which I wanted.

  I went up the stairs.

  I set my jaw grimly.

  I strode into the offices of Dingaling, Chase and Ambo.

  I was about to unleash the most terrible weapon ever devised: the American legal system!

  There was no receptionist. I walked right through the empty waiting room and into the second office.

  A baldheaded man with foxy, shifting eyes looked up from a scarred desk. He rubbed his hands. He said, "You been run over? You slip on somebody's floor? We're the very people you want to see." He raised his voice, "Chase! Ambo! We've got a customer!"

  Two other doors opened. Two other baldheaded men with foxy, shifting eyes rushed in.

  "I'm here on the Wister case," I said.

  They looked very alert. Chase then approached and patted me over to make sure I wasn't carrying a tape recorder or gun.

  "For or against?" said Dingaling, the first man.

  "Against," I said firmly.

  They promptly got me a chair and all three helped me sit down.

  "You're from...?"

  "I am sure," I said firmly, "that Madison must have retained you on behalf of Maizie Spread."

  They looked wary.

  "I am Madison's boss," I said. "My name is Smith. You can check with him but do not tell him I am here."

  Chase vanished. I heard him phoning. He came back and nodded to the other two.

  "There's a real suit here," I said.

  "Oh, come, come," said Dingaling. "It's just a publicity retainer, Mr. Smith. A maximum harassment in the media. The usual thing. An attorney firm like ours does it all the time."

  "There's money to be made," I said.

  "Oh, come, come, Mr. Smith," said Ambo. "You know full well that this Wister has no money."

  "There is something Madison neglected to tell you," I said. "There is a real Jerome Terrance Wister."

  They frowned, perplexed.

  "He has millions, even billions available," I said.

  They stiffened and stared.

  "The man Madison put you on to is a double. The

  REAL Wister lives in a ten-million-dollar penthouse on

  Central Park West, has a domestic staff of twelve and is

  driven to his posh office in the Empire State Building in

  'a Rolls Royce Silver Spirit."

  They were absolutely flabbergasted. They plied me with questions and I answered. '

  They began to mutter, "A real case!" "A defenseless millionaire!"

  "If you serve your suit subpoena on the real Jerome | Terrance Wister at his penthouse at five o'clock this after– I noon as he comes home, you're on the way to making a f fortune!"

  I gave them further details.

  When I left, they had made a ring and were dancing round and round in the office, shouting in hysterical joy.

  Chapter 9

  Five o'clock found me glued to the viewers.

  The Countess Krak in the Silver Spirit had picked up Heller at the office.

  They drove into the garage.

  They ascended in the elevator.

  Heller unlocked the door at the top and stepped into the small hall. The Countess Krak was right behind him.

  A shabby man in a shabby overcoat with a shabby hat pulled over his eyes stepped out from behind a potted plant.

  "Jerome Terrance Wister?" he said.

  Heller stopped.

  The man shoved a court summons into his hand. "You are duly served in the matter of Spread vs. Wister" he said and then bolted down the fire escape.

  "What is it, dear?" said the Countess Krak.

  "I don't know," said Heller, "but he almost got himself shot." He started to toss the paper aside.

  The Countess Krak took it from him.

  She read a short distance into it.

  She went white.

  Then suddenly she marched into the salon, across it, to her room and slammed the door!

  I had connected!

  Heller stood there, rooted.

  Then he went to her door. It was locked.

  "Dear," he said through the closed portal, "could you tell me what this is all about?"

  She was lying on the bed face down with the legal paper crumpled in her hand. She was crying!

  "Dear," he called. "Is there something wrong?"

  He kept at it and half an hour passed before she ceased to cry.

  "Go away," she called at last.

  For quite some time, Heller walked around the con-do and the garden. He tried several more times to get her to talk to him and each time he failed.

  At length she replied through the closed door. "Go away! You lied to me. You had a woman after all!" And then she wailed, "You got her pregnant!"

  After that she would say no more.

  Oh, I really writhed in glee. What a hit! This would finish everything.

  All my confidence in myself came flooding back. I had saved the day! Rockecenter could go right on polluting to his heart's content. Earth could properly go to Hells, heat up and flood. Oh, I was really jubilant.

  In a sudden surge of optimism, I decided that if I was successful here, I might now soar to higher successes.

  I was out of money. Come morning they would boot me out of the wino hotel for failing to pay the rent.

  I decided to chance it. If my luck held this good, I could go back to Miss Pinch and Candy without getting f my brains beat in.!

  No sooner said than done. I packed up. Burdened, I sneaked down to the lobby. The clerk was not at the desk. I threw down my key and walked out into the street.

  It was not too much of a hike, from where I had stayed, uptown and east of Miss Pinch's.

  Laden, I went down the basement steps and rang the bell. The area light came on. Miss Pinch opened the door.

  She just stood there, looking at me, no expression on her face at all.

  Shortly Candy, curious, came up behind her. She stared at me, too.

  Over her shoulder to Candy, Miss Pinch said, "Get the insect spray. The deadly kind."

  I flinched. I thought she meant to kill me. She was staring, staring, staring.

  Candy brought the spray can.

  To me, Miss Pinch said, "Stand right there and take off all your clothes."

  I looked down. It was just a couple cockroaches crawling on my chest.

  I stripped. They put my clothes in a garbage bag, spray flying all the while.

  They made me take my hardware and papers out. They put everything else in a garbage bag.

  They sprayed me from head to foot.

  They sprayed all my papers and hardware.

  Dead cockroaches were lying all over the place.

  They swatted a couple that had tried to run for it into the house.

  They took all the clothes I had taken with me and my grip and carried them to the incinerator in the garden, doused them with lighter fluid and touched a match.

  They pushed me into a shower with disinfectant soap.

  At length I came out, red-eyed but deloused.

  I opened the closet and got a bathrobe from the ample wardrobe I had left behind.

  It suddenly struck me that neither one of them had said a word to me!

  Maybe this wasn't over with yet.

  The door to the front room was closed. I heard them whispering to each other. Were they planning to do some­thing vicious to me?

  I sat there in the back room, worrying.

  Miss Pinch and Candy came in. They had on nightgowns and bathrobes. I flinched.

  "I don't really feel up to it," I said.

  "Just as well," said Miss Pinch. "We wouldn't let you do it anyway."

  Oh, Gods, maybe they thought I had a disease. I had better not tell them I was clean. But I had to know how come this s
trange shift? "Why?" I said.

  "We might miscarry," said Miss Pinch.

  "Miscarry?" I said, blinking.

  "Yes, we're both pregnant," said Miss Pinch.

  Cold terror gripped me by the throat!

  The whole room spun around me! I was totally disoriented! I wanted to tell them, no, no, you're all mixed up. It was Heller who got girls pregnant.

  "I've never been in Kansas!" I wailed.

  But they were both gone. And all that night, I lay in the dark, spinning.

  Now and then I would say to the walls, "I am Officer Gris. I am not a combat engineer. My name is not Heller. I am Officer Gris. Miss Pinch is not Maizie Spread. This is New York. My name is not Heller...."

  It was a very terrible and eerie experience.

  Chapter 10

  Apparently, once the media had gotten its teeth into sex and scandal, Madison could just sit back and loaf.

  I stole enough quarters out of Pinch's purse to buy the morning papers.

  WHIZ KID EXPELLED FROM PURITY LEAGUE

  PUBLICLY DENOUNCED

  From her padded cell in her psychiatrist's office, Agatha Prim today announced that the Whiz Kid, Wister, had been fired as VICE-President in Charge of Intolerance and expelled from the WASP Purity League.

  ' 'Unlicensed lust can be tolerated only by professional psychiatrists," she said.

  It went on. It was in other papers. On TV news shots, clips were shown of the Whiz Kid's nomination to

  post, the demonstrations which caused his pardon, and other bric-a-brac, ending finally with Agatha Prim being wheeled off for her next electric shock.

  Radio spot ads were running every hour inviting the public to a mass meeting at the League headquarters to form a lynch mob.

  A famous parson was also spot ad-ing to invite people to his sermon, "Low How the Sinners Fall."

  The government said that it was investigating to see if the Whiz Kid owed income tax.

  The United Kingdom caused a total furor in the afternoon press by announcing it was debarring the Whiz Kid entry to England on moral grounds. This included Canada. That he had never been there, they said, was beside the point!

  I turned on my viewers to see how Krak and Heller were taking this.

  Krak's I couldn't tell much about. The viewer had a watery tinge. She was evidently still in her room and her eyes were wet from crying.

  Heller was something else.

  He was just entering the office of Multinational. Izzy rose from his desk and shooed other people out and closed the door. Heller sat down. He spread out the crumpled suit paper on Izzy's desk: Heller must have recovered it from a trash bin, the way it looked.

  "What the blast is this?" said Heller.

  Izzy read it. "It's a civil suit," he said. "They evidently got service on you."

  "What" said Heller, "is a civil suit? It sounds awful uncivil to me."

  "It means you have to appear and go to a jury trial," said Izzy.

  "But it's a pack of lies!" said Heller. "I never even

  heard of any Maizie Spread. I don't even know where Cornhole, Kansas, is."

  Izzy opened up one of the stack of newspapers he had on his desk. It contained a full-page photo of Maizie Spread lying in a haystack with her legs apart. Izzy turned the page so Heller could see it closely. The girl was fat and homely. "You've never seen her before?"

  "Absolutely not," said Heller.

  "Well," said Izzy, "that just means the legal system is up to its usual tricks. Anybody can sue anybody for anything in this country and usually does. There's a whole segment of the population that makes its living just suing anybody for anything they can dream up. It's pretty brutal. Way back, one millionaire named Howard Hughes-a very famous flier-ended his days in hiding just because people kept suing him. There's thousands of people out there who don't dare walk around in public because people they never heard of are trying to sue them and make them spend their whole lives and fortune sitting in courtrooms. And, of course, the press always backs it all up because it's full of lies and such and makes good copy."

  "Look," said Heller, "I want this cleaned up fast."

  "Oh, heavens. That is the one thing that won't hap­pen. This suit will go on for years and years. That's the legal system."

  "It sounds //legal to me," said Heller.

  "You have to understand how it is," said Izzy. "The lawyers want all trials as slow as possible. That way they can make millions out of them."

  "An honest lawyer could end this," said Heller.

  Izzy laughed hollowly. "You just don't understand this legal system. The operative word is MONEY. The only way a lawyer can make a fortune is to sue people

  for millions and split the court award with his client. The courts award those millions, too. Now, the defense attorney of such a suit can only make money by dragging it out and bleeding his client white for fees."

  "Any honest government would stop such nonsense in a minute," said Heller.

  "Listen. The legislators and congressmen are mostly lawyers. They are the ones who make the laws that regulate the conduct of courts. So of course they will pass no real legislation that will cut the awards and fees to their colleagues: when they finish office, these same legislators will be right back there practicing law again and would be unable to become millionaires overnight with insane suits and crazy fees. No, you've fallen into the legal soup, Mr. Jet. Like quicksand or the New York sewage system. They've got service on you. You have to appear. And meanwhile the press wrecks your reputation and even if you win, it will be years from now and you will be out millions, maybe bankrupt."

  "Hey!" said Heller. "Nobody can live in a society like that!"

  "Listen, Mr. Jet, only the bums win in a society like this. A spectacular, competent fellow like you hasn't got a chance."

  "In another place I know," said Heller, "anybody who tried a swindle like this suit would be sent to prison and the attorneys right along with her."

  "Well, that's not here, Mr. Jet. And that's why I never let you connect your name to any of these corporations. You're a good guy. That's why, when all this first began, I bought you a ticket for Brazil and told you about the place where they only have ants: not a lawyer in the lot. But now we're into a legal mess and we have to have a lawyer."

  "We've got to do something," said Heller. "I'll give this paper to Philup Bleedum of Bleedum, Bleedum and Drayne, one of the corporation attorneys," said Izzy. "He can file an appearance and torts and writs and stuff. I won't let you talk to him as I don't want you any more depressed than you are. I'll be sure to operate the device that can see the future on the market like mad because we will need millions just to defend this. And maybe five or six years from now, it will be over." "I can't wait that long."

  "Oh, it probably really won't be that long," said Izzy. "Usually in such a suit, especially when it is false, vexatious and harassing, the defendant has to file personal bankruptcy long before it is over, as he cannot possibly pay his own attorney fees."

  "Izzy," said Heller, "are you just being your usual pessimistic self?"

  "Oy, Mr. Jet! I'm talking about the legal system. Knowing what I do about the ruination it is built around, I thought I was being optimistic! I didn't mention possibly going to jail for contempt and losing the whole thing for not appearing in court."

  "This could wreck my whole mission," said Heller despondently.

  "That's all the legal system is designed to do," said Izzy. "Enrich the lawyers and bums and ruin everybody else. But cheer up. An atomic war might intervene and settle everything."

  "With a legal system as insane as that, they deserve it," said Heller and left.

  That alarmed me a little bit. And then I realized that he hadn't packed any atomic bombs I knew of in his suitcase.

  But this interview had gotten me thinking.

  Yes, I knew anybody on this planet could sue anybody for anything and often did.

  Supposing Miss Pinch and Candy took it into their heads to sue me
over their pregnancies? Double jeopardy.

  I could see myself on the run, hiding out in wino hotels for years trying to avoid service of suits, sitting in musty courtrooms for months being worked over by attorneys like Dingaling, Chase and Ambo.

  I was guilty as Hells. That made me cheer up a little bit. If I was really culpable, they would find me innocent, of course. Only the innocent were ever found guilty.

  Then I saw that the Countess Krak was still in her room, crying as though her heart would break.

  It cheered me enormously.

  Little did I know the next horror coming my way.

  I was about to get the anvil's view of the hammer.

  PART FORTY-EIGHT

  Chapter 1

  For three days Madison let the paternity suit boil along. The sex-and-outlaw theme really got its play. The farmer's daughter, Maizie Spread, was on prime-time national TV, giving diagrams of where and how and about how many times and even offering to demonstrate. It was POPULAR!

  Heller was walking around distractedly. The Countess Krak stayed in her room. Mission Earth had been brought to a HALT!

  But there was a danger that activity on their part might start up again. I phoned Madison.

  "We've got a hit," said Madison. "When that suit gets into the courts, it can run for years. The climax will come when she claims he got other members of his gang to rape all the livestock, but that won't be for weeks yet."

  "I noticed one of the papers let it drop to page three today," I said.

  "Yes, I know," said Madison, "we're using the Rocke-center lines to have the editor fired."

  "But what if the other papers start putting it on page three?" I said. I was learning to talk to Madison.

  "We'll fire the lot," he said.

  "But wait, you can't fire all the editors in the coun-try."

  "Yes, I can!" he said.

  "No, you can't," I said.

  "Yes, I can!" he said.

  "Look," I said. "If you did, you might not have any papers."

  "Yes, there's that," he said.

  "So why don't you deliver some mortal blow?" I said.

  "Mortal blow? I resent that, Smith. All we're doing is trying to help the fellow out: make him immortal. We want nothing to do with MORTAL blows! When we get through, he will be the most famous outlaw of all time. He will live forever in song and story. So don't talk to me about anything mortal!" He was quite cross.

 

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