Lights flashing red, yellow, red were emerging from the bare trees skirting the driveway like the blind end of some alien juggernaut lumbering inexorably into the open, some vast image out of Spiritus Mundi moving its slow thighs, its bones of iron shuddering convulsively with a grinding of gears as a flatbed truck took shape bearing a naked tenant merrily riding its back like some wounded avatar of the automotive deity celebrating a convalescent visit.
— Wait! he came down waving his arms — what are you doing! where two men were already dismounted unfastening the chains — not there no, you can't leave it there put it, just put it, put it someplace…
— They can put it over in those trees Oscar, so I can get out.
— Over there! Put it over under those trees so we can get out! and the thing heaved into motion again rattling its chains, dropping its tracks, winching the red Sosumi down into a clump of serviceberry bush.
— Christina! he came pounding down the hall — did you see that? and on to the kitchen — where are you! with a passing glimpse into the disheveled sunroom — Christina? back now staring at the silent phone, he picked it up and put it down again muttering — Mohlenhoff, Schriek Mohlenhoff and, no, Prestig? over digging in the litter on the sideboard, envelopes, bills, brochures, folders spilling under his hands still muttering — wig yes, Preswig? but the one that stopped him, lips silently shaping its return Lepidus, Shea & —it's not even opened! he whispered, patting pockets for his glasses till he found them coming down slowly on the sofa and tearing it open like a man with an appetite, turning each page more quickly as though to wipe away the taste of the one before it, moistening his lips against the searing bite of each paragraph until the last leaving him sitting there with his burning mouth agape, only to suck in his breath like some cooling draft and start again with the first pungent savoury, rehearsing each course more slowly as those spiced with figures caught him gasping for breath finally getting to his feet as empty as he'd sat down and beginning to pace the room, tapping the scrolled pages against his thigh like the menu of some Barmecidal feast standing there at the window staring vacantly out over the pond.
— Well? What are you going to do about it.
— What? he turned as though seized from behind — about what! I've been calling you where have you been.
— You needn't be upset, I went out for a little fresh air and I don't want that old car on this property, things look shabby enough around here. What are you going to do about it.
— You shouldn't go out like that, you've got nothing on but a sweater you'll catch pneumonia Christina that's not why I'm upset, look at this! brandishing the pages, the torn envelope — when did it come, I just happened to find it on that pile over there couldn't somebody have told me?
— I'm not your secretary Oscar neither is Lily, I mean might it occur to you we could have other things on our minds? and she sat down with the weariness draining her voice, the dulled look of her eyes on him — if it's something so important that…
— Well it is! It's my, it's the final award in my lawsuit look at it!
— I saw it Oscar, I just told you I don't want it on the property.
— What do you, not that one Christina my play! My big lawsuit against Kiester and The Blood in the no, no you're just being smart aren't you you know what I'm talking about, you're just trying to, to belittle it aren't you.
— Don't be silly no, I'd forgotten all about it.
— Forgot! how could, there. There, you're just ridiculing it like some stupid case of No Fault case of, forgot all about it! brandishing the pages at her — look at it it's a travesty, they make a movie that's a vulgar travesty and now they make a travesty of the whole judicial process, read it!
— I don't want to read it Oscar.
— Well then don't! They took in three hundred and seventy million dollars it says it right here in the socalled master's accounting and they're claiming the movie lost eighteen million how could it! Three hundred seventy million dollars in gross receipts and I was supposed to get all the profits till they got away with apportioning my share only to what they stole from me when we didn't show up to contest it because Sam had gone fishing and Basic was busy somewhere making brooms? What Harry called their creative accounting, all the profits and suddenly they're figuring the fair market value of what they stole calling it goods and services down there with the hairdresser and they decide to give me a fifth of the market value because the rest of it's in the public domain and the success of the movie was due to everybody but the creator of the idea that was frail to begin with and my claim to it is tainted anyway because they didn't steal my last act, the scenarist made up the whole resolution of the story from historical sources he says he dug up somewhere? So the master's accounting here says they're using the ratio of two point five of the gross receipts to costs whatever that means, seven million for Kiester and how many million for that stick of an actor Bredford with another three million for Anga Frika's tits and forty million more for advertising them? No wonder they lost eighteen million.
— I mean you scarcely need me to make a mockery of it then do you, I thought you'd got some kind of an award.
— I did! I end up getting look at it, it's not even two hundred thous it's not even enough for these legal bills it's just Harry trying to cheer me up with all his talk about the court's discretion making me an award in lieu of actual damages and profits what can I do about it, I can't ask Harry can I?
— No you can't, Oscar.
— But, no I didn't mean…
— You didn't mean what! Blaming him as though he'd, as though he's gone to Bermuda on a vacation? blaming Sam who went fishing and Basic for sitting in prison somewhere making brooms? My God think about it! You said they grossed three hundred and seventy million dollars? you said you thought you were going to get all the profits? you said they cut that down to one fifth and their creative accounting shows they lost eighteen million? If they'd based your award on actual damages and profits you'd have twenty percent of nothing wouldn't you? You'd have a fifth of minus eighteen million is that what you want? you'd owe them three and a half million dollars is that what you want?
— Well that's, no that's absurd Christina that's insane, it's…
— Think about it! I mean my God you can be glad you may come out with enough to buy yourself one last bottle of your Pinot Grigio, will you stop waving those papers around and weeping over money is that all you can think about? when we, when there are real things to weep over?
— No, Christina? and this time he was up, his arms wide in embrace but so was she, turning her back on him in her hard stride toward the windows — I'm sorry, I didn't mean…
— I mean we're not going hungry, are we? she said from there, gazing out over the still pond — we're hardly destitute after all.
— Well you're not. With whatever Harry left and this life insurance, I don't think it even gets taxed and it's more than twice this miserable award of mine with these legal bills and all those medical expenses that…
— I'll believe that when I see it, expect a free lunch from Bill Peyton with Masha out there spitting in the soup I'll believe it when I can taste it.
— Well I told you what he said on the phone didn't I? He really sounded upset about it Christina. They're using all the pressure they can to get this settlement and they have the leverage, an old line firm like that with all their prestige they really have the leverage and it's not even costing them anything out of their own pocket is it? You just said they're afraid of anything that would reflect badly on the firm's image they're protecting that too aren't they? the way Harry always talked about protecting the firm? That's what it was all about even if he'd died with just the change in his pocket and you've got the penthouse, you've still got the penthouse in there too haven't you?