"
"Madison, I hate to have to tell you this, but if you'd kept your nose out of it, Cling would simply have gotten well, declared Mortiiy his successor and there wouldn't have been a single shot fired. You were just a stupid, destructive sideshow! But that's typical of your breed everywhere I encountered it. You just made trouble where none need ever have been." Madison looked at him doubtfully. Then he shrugged. "I can see you have an awful lot to learn, Heller-Wister. Mr. Bury will believe me if I tell him I worked hard to make you immortal. When I get back to Earth____________________
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"Madison," said Heller in English, "I've got news for you. Mr. Bury works for me now."
"WHAT?"
"Fact," said Heller. "And as far as your going back to Earth is concerned, I don't even have to wonder if I'd inflict you on that planet again. Your stupid last caper was a real peach, angering Mortiiy. Your public relations was so good that he just ordered the planet disposed of. A true triumph for PR" Madison looked at him and might have spoken but the Countess Krak had returned from the Imperial Palace and she walked up to them. "Jettero," she said, "the last time we saw this man he was supposed to be driving off a dock in the East River!" "PRs," said Heller, "unfortunately can't even execute factual death notices." The criminal crew were being gathered up and chained. The woman Flip was standing near, eyeing the Countess Krak. Krak turned to Madison. "I just remembered. Two days after your death notice appeared in the papers, I saw another one that mentioned you. Your mother." "My mother?" said Madison, suddenly ashen. "She died of grief over that death report?" "No," said Krak. "She got married in one of the happiest weddings I've ever seen photographs of!" "Oh, my God!" said Madison and began to crumple. The woman Flip, despite her manacles, grabbed him to keep him from falling. She knelt and put his head on her lap. "What's the matter with him?" said the Countess Krak to Heller. "I just told him so he wouldn't feel guilty that he'd ruined his mother's life with grief. It was a kind gesture!" The woman Flip kissed Madison. He stirred. His eyelids flickered open. He looked up at her. She kissed him again. "I've got you," said Flip with greedy eyes. "Oh, my God," he wept, "there goes my genius!"
Outside, a cold desert wind was moaning around the naked palaces, blowing in dust to spin in swirls before the lights which Army units were setting up on a temporary basis. Rebel troops and Fleet marines were patrolling the darkened boulevards. The Countess Krak directed Heller down the vast staircase toward a nearby park. They were followed by a squad of Fleet marines who kept the manacled crew of Madison bunched up. The new Homeview crew director came racing down the steps and fell into pace with Heller. "Crown, Your Lordship, sir," he said. "Don't be angry with Home-view, please." He glanced over his shoulder at Madison a few feet behind them. "The crud that idiot was putting on the commentary channel was caught by the monitor editor at Joy City. It never went on the air." Madison, far gone already, would have collapsed once more if Flip and a marine had not caught him by the chains. "Since when did Homeview get so solicitous?" said Heller. "Well, sir, you're a public figure now." "Fine," said Heller, sarcastically. "That explains everything. Go back and get yourself some refreshments." "Oh, thank you," said the Homeview director. "But you see, one of my men noticed a Royal prison air-wagon landing a few minutes ago and saw Lord Turn get out. I've got an idea this has to do with your prisoner Soltan Gris. I want to cover it. It's hot-spot news." "I'm going to kill Madison," muttered Heller. "Oh, good!" said the Homeview director. "You're going to execute him right here in the park____________________
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"Shut up!" said Heller. "It was just a figure of speech. You and your sudden talk about 'public figure' and 'cover it' and 'spot news'! You never heard of those things until this (bleeped) Madison came along. Now you sound just like an ABC news crew." "But the public has a right to know!" said the director. '"Right to know'!" gritted Heller. "That did it. No, you CANNOT cover my private meeting with Lord Turn. But I can tell you what is going to happen later tonight." "What?" said the director. "I am going to see that a Royal Censor is appointed with powers to shoot directors! Get out of here!" "Crown, Your Lordship, sir!" said the director. "Are you intimating that you are going to advocate a fascistic suppression of the Gods-.given right of freedom of speech and press?" Heller stopped. Madison almost ran into him. "Madison," said Heller, "if I ever felt any mercy toward you before, it just evaporated. Just as I begin, quite unwillingly, a life as a 'public figure,' I find you'll be trailing me as a ghost." "Then you are going to execute him in the park," said the director. "No," said Heller, starting to walk again. "Tempting, but no. Director, this fellow Madison, yapping around, only gave you half of the story." "Really?" "Yes. The other half is that there is such a thing as 'invasion of privacy.'" "Oh?" said the director, impressed. "Yes," said Heller. "Now, you tell them down at Homeview and tell anybody else that will listen that if I find you invading my privacy with cameras and crew, I'll sue you or them for a billion credits." "My Gods!" "That's some of the other half Madison didn't teach you." "But what does it mean, 'invasion of privacy'?" "Ah," said Heller, "it means anything I say it means any time I say it." "My Gods!" "Right," said Heller. "Now that you have the word, be sure to tell your boss and fellow directors." "Oh, I will!" said the director, frightened. "Good," said Heller. "Now, because it very well may stop further riots, and solely for that reason and no other, you can go get your cameras and crew and cover the trial of Soltan Gris." "Oh, YES, Your Lordship!" cried the director in a truly impressed and worshipful voice. "At your orders, Your Lordship, sir!" He raced off. Heller turned to Madison. He said, in English, "Top that one, you (bleepard)!"
Lord Turn was sitting on the trail of an overturned Apparatus blast cannon. The air-wagon, marked Royal Prison, was parked quite near. Some Army engineer had put a field electric heater at his feet and he was warming his hands in its red light. "Jettero, my boy!" said Turn when Heller stood before him. He got up and pumped Heller's hand. "I was terribly sorry, Your Lordship," said Heller, "to have to ask this favor. I'm afraid I caused you a lot of upset unwittingly." "Sit down, sit down, my boy," said Turn, patting a place on the cannon trail. "Nothing that couldn't be mended. But what in the name of Heavens was this all about?" Heller sat down. "I was bringing Gris to the Royal prison and I thought he committed suicide." Turn waved a hand at the air-wagon. The face of Sol-tan Gris was pressed against the barred window, misery in his eyes, looking hopeless. Two prison guards were behind him. "Well, he unfortunately survived it," said Lord Turn. "That man is a true felon. He can cause more trouble per cubic inch of law book than anyone I ever heard of. You see, I couldn't really try him because I didn't know the charge." The camera crew had arrived on the run and they were suddenly bathed with lights. Lord Turn groaned. Heller reached into his tunic and pulled forth a printout. "They have the consoles in there working now and I just pulle'd this. Can you try him here and get this over with?" "Oh, gladly!" said Lord Turn and signalled to the guards in the air-wagon. "Twice as legal to try him in Palace City and good riddance!" Soitan Gris was stumbling forward. A camera was thrust into his face and he flinched. "Stand over there," said Heller. "Don't be scared of the cameras. I don't think anybody is watching at this hour." "That's what you think," said the director. And he showed a backfeed monitor of the screens at Joy City. The pictures he was flashing were a montage of crowds, crowds, crowds! They were standing in the darkened streets on this side of Voltar and in the sunlit streets on the other. Word must have spread like wildfire. Heller groaned. He turned to Lord Turn. "This is Grand Council Order 938365537-451BP3, issued last year. It directs the Exterior Division to send an engineer to patch up Blito-P3. Soitan Gris, then a Secondary Executive of the Apparatus, Chief of Section 451, Blito-P3, did everything in his power to make certain that this order would not be executed." "Aha!" cried Lord Turn, reading the order. "Then the defense of Soitan Gris and his attorneys that he was only obeying orders doesn't hold!" Lord Turn pulled his cloak around him. He said loudly, "The Court is in session!" He glared with hostility at Gris. Gris stood shaking, bathed in Homeview lights but also with the light from the heater which, being red, pve him a diabolical look. "I knew, Gris, that a Royal officer would not have arrested you for nothing. This is a very grave charge. The penalty is court discretion or death. How do you plead?" "Not guilty!" wailed Gris. "Unfortunately," said Lord Turn, "I finally got around to reading your confession. You're as guilty as a murderer found standing with blood dripping from his knife. You even attempted the life of a Royal officer! I find you guilty as accused! Have you anything to say before I pass sentence?" Soitan Gris dropped to his knees. He clasped his manacled hands together and held them beseechingly toward the judge. Unfortunately this put him closer to the heater and bathed him scarlet: the light, being from below, painted his face like a monster. "You promised me leniency!" he cried. "I don't think I did," said Turn. "I just told you to write up your crimes so I could find out what the charge was." "Mercy, mercy!" blubbered Gris. "Don't sentence me to death by torture! Spare me." "Oh, for Heavens' sakes," said Heller, disgusted. He leaned over and whispered in Lord Turn's ear. Lord Turn nodded. "Soitan Gris," said Turn, "I am empowered by law in such a crime to sentence at court discretion or death. Your final execution will be done by hanging and exposure from a gibbet in the Royal prison until your body rots away…" Gris fainted. He fell with a clank and jangle of manacles. A prison guard tried to get him to his feet and wake him up. Gris just slumped. "What a snivelling coward," said the judge. "He couldn't even stay conscious to hear the rest of the sentence." Lord Turn made some notes in a book and put the Grand Council order with it. Heller had his eye on the camera crews. They had taken all the close-ups they wanted now of Gris. They were packing up. Their lights went off. Heller was sure the crowds in the streets in the Confederacy would be dancing with joy. "Thank you, Crown, Your Lordship," said the director to Heller. "I am sure we at Homeview can work out a very happy professional relationship." "I was afraid of that," said Heller, sardonically. The director trotted off, followed by his crew. Lord Turn got up. He walked over and stirred at Gris with his foot but there was no response. Turn faced Heller. "Well, Jettero, my boy, I am surely glad that's over with." He shook Heller's hand. He looked back at the collapsed Gris and said, "Well, he's all yours now." Lord Turn, followed by the Royal prison guards, got into the air-wagon. It flew away. Heller gestured to the collapsed Gris and said to the marine lieutenant, "Pick him up. We have another call to make."