"Well, that sure took them long enough!" Voice on the phone. New England twang. Bury!
"Where are you?" I gasped.
"Central America," said Bury. "Somebody killed the Director of the CIA and there was an outbreak of peace down here. I had to fly in to review treaties to see which ones could be broken. It's not too bad, though. They really have some great snakes down here. You ought to see them! But that isn't what I called you about. The matter is pretty high security so I had to bypass the National Security Agency. Besides, there aren't any phones in the jungle here. Is the U.S. Army Signal Corps still in the room, there?"
"Yes," I said.
"Well, tell them to move out of earshot. This is highly classified stuff."
I told them and they went out onto the terrace and into the hall, guns drawn and ready to defend their equipment in case of attack.
"The area is clear," I said.
"All right," said Bury. "I got a call about an hour, ago on the facsimile satellite hookup. He was on personally. You know who I'm talking about."
Yes, I certainly did. I realized with alarm that Del-bert John Rockecenter himself had been through to Bury.
"Inkswitch," said Bury, "you've let Madison get out of hand! You-know-who is hopping mad!" I could hear him shaking newspapers at the phone. "Raving, Ink-switch, raving!"
I chilled. When Rockecenter raves, governments fall.
"He kind of got it wrong," said Bury. "He thought the news said the kid was setting up a rival oil company and was violating family policy by introducing competition. It's that Miss Peace: she reads him the papers and she can't spell. So Madison has got it all screwed up. That kid is his client, not Octopus. Madison is out of his field, getting into legal. Justice mustn't be allowed to get out of hand. I know, I'm a lawyer. And that's the real catastrophe in this. We can live with most of this but one item in it really needs to be objected to and no overrule! And this is the real reason you've got to get Madison under control, Inkswitch. Have I got your full attention?"
I told him he surely had.
"Inkswitch, right there in the same news story, he committed a felony. He mentioned Swindle and Crouch along with Boggle, Gouge and Hound. Listen, Ink-switch: Boggle, Gouge and Hound are a bunch of cheap ambulance-chasers, and even whispering Swindle and Crouch in the same news story could ruin our reputation. It's a clear-cut case of attempted manslaughter. Madison has gone too far! It's pretty serious, Inkswitch. That's the real reason this call has got to be so secret. Do you grasp the need for a tight, unviolated lawyer-client relationship here?"
I said that I did.
Bury said, "Now, I can't call Madison. He'd just plead the Fifth. So you have to handle Madison. If you don't, we're liable to get a summary judgment with no reprieve. Got it?"
I said I certainly did.
Bury said, "Good. Is there anything else on the docket?"
"Well, yes," I said. "They changed cashiers and I can't get paid."
"Details," said Bury. "Don't bother me with details. Tell the Chief Security Officer. Say, you wouldn't like me to send you a couple of these nice snakes, would you?"
Hastily, I said, "I'll get on Madison right away!"
"All right," said Bury. "You make sure you do. I've got to go deeper into the mountains now to find General Hatchetheimer and get some of these peace treaties violated to get things going again. I won't be available for a while: I also want more time with these great snakes. You sure you don't want some?"
"I'll be too busy on Madison!" I said quickly.
"Well, give my best to Miss Agnes, (bleep) her."
He rang off.
I signalled the Signal Corps people on the terrace. They blew shrill whistles. The MPs went into Red Alert.
They rushed the closely guarded equipment away.
Sirens began to scream in the streets.
With very precisely executed maneuvers, they were gone.
Utanc crawled out from under her bed, white-faced and shaking. She slammed and locked her door with extraordinary force in my face.
The hotel resident doctor was giving the first bellhop an emergency transfusion in the hall.
A hotel repair crew timidly came in and began to put the breakage together as best they could.
The manager appeared. He said, "There are two questions, if you please. A: Are you a Russian defector? Or B: Are you a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in disguise?"
I was kind of upset. I gave him the wrong answers. "It's no to both," I said, irritated.
"Good," he said. "Then here's the bill for the damages."
It was for $18,932.27 plus one expended bellhop, value to be determined later.
That decided me right then and there!
First things first.
MONEY!
I would go see the Chief of Security at once. The problem was how to get there. It is sort of suicidal to get into a New York cab with only thirty-five cents in your pocket. I knew better than to approach Utanc, the way that door had slammed in my face. I would jog.
Wrapped warmly against the cold day, I was shortly sweating and puffing my way southward toward Rockecenter Plaza. It was only a few blocks.
I turned at Saks and wheezed my way through the Channel Gardens, shivering at the sight of all the unovercoated statuary sporting in the iced pools, and finally got to the Octopus Oil Building.
The Chief of Security had his feet on the desk, easing his several stomachs after lunch.
I flashed my Federal I.D. at him. "Inkswitch," I said. "I have a problem of the greatest importance to the company."
He punched the computer and it came up blank. "What's the problem?" he said, taking his feet off the desk.
"Your Miss Pinch on Petty Cash Window 13 has not been trained on her job. Miss Grabball did not tell her the procedure in handling a family 'spi'!"
"Ho, ho!" he said. He checked his revolver, picked up a thick billy club and we were on our way.
I hung back. He went right into the cages like a lion trainer. He seized Miss Pinch by the shoulder and with a yank, hauled her into a back closet.
There were some sharp sounds coming out. Blows.
Very shortly the Chief of Security emerged. He said to me as he passed me, "That's the way."
I went promptly to Window B. Miss Pinch was sitting there in her mannish clothes and thin lips. She had the beginnings of a black eye.
"Inkswitch," I said, "I want $20,000."
She punched the computer keyboard. It came up blank. She made out a voucher and handed it to me to sign. I wrote Thomas Jefferson. She took it and carefully counted $20,000 from her cash drawer.
She put the whole $20,000 in her purse!
She didn't have it right.
I said, "Are you sure that is correct?"
"That's the way," she said with hostility.
I went out. Maybe she was just a bit rattled. I should give her a chance to get settled in on her job.
I came back in.
"Inkswitch," I said. "I want $20,000."
She punched the computer keyboard. It came up blank. She made out a voucher and handed it to me to sign. I wrote George Washington. She took it and carefully counted $20,000 from her cash drawer.
She again put the whole $20,000 in her purse!
I said, "Wait a minute, Miss Pinch. I don't think you have this right!"
Her eyes were very, very hostile. "That's the way," she said.
I went out. Maybe I was giving her the wrong figure!
I went back in.
"Inkswitch," I said. "I want $40,000."