“Of drugs?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, yes, of drugs. Don’t you understand when I...”
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Lois?”
“Nothing. I haven’t had a fix yet; that’s all.”
“Well, go take one then, and we’ll talk business when you’ve popped.”
“There’s none in the office. You saw that yourself.”
He was beginning to get a little exasperated. “Then why didn’t you pop before you left your house?”
“Because I’m all out, too, and I couldn’t get any.”
“I’ve got plenty at my place,” he said. “Send one of the kids when they come in.”
“Morph?” she asked, an eager light in her eyes.
“Morph mostly. A guest supply of a few others. Have you tried all the drug outfits?”
“Yes, all of them.”
“The private pushers?”
“All of them.”
“Probably a small shortage. Maybe a shipment got fouled.” He shrugged. “Has Liz got you doing any of the marketing?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I wanted to ask you about something. We usually get checks from Vizco and Young and Coon Thursdays; there were none in this morning’s mail. Any idea what’s wrong?”
“Yes. They’ve both been taken over by a new outfit.”
“Oh? What’s the name of the new owner?”
“Listen, do you suppose I could call a messenger service and get them to stop at your place for the morph?”
“Better yet, call Liz. She probably hasn’t left yet. She’ll bring it for you.”
“Good. Good. I’ll do that.”
She started for the door and Van said, “Hey, what’s the name of the new outfit?”
“Pall Associates,” she called over her shoulder.
He ran into Deborah Dean the week before the trial. She was hurrying to catch a pneumotube, and she almost knocked him over.
“Hey,” he said, “what’s the rush?”
She looked up at him for a moment, puzzled, and then said, “Van! How good.” She grasped his hand firmly, squeezed it hard. “It’s awfully nice to see you. What are you doing?”
“Well, I’ve been pretty busy.”
“This Belly thing?” She smiled knowingly. “Pelazi has certainly started something, hasn’t he? I don’t think there’s a Vike in sight who isn’t talking about it.”
“He’s going to be sorry he started,” Van promised.
“Yes. I understand everyone is getting together to squash him. Is that right?”
Brant nodded happily, studying Deborah. She’d changed a great deal. She wore her hair long now, curling about her neck. There were no contacts on her eyes, and he noticed for the first time that their natural color was a somewhat muddy brown. She’d put on weight, of course, so he assumed her trips to the Inseminary had been successful. She wore a maternity breast sheath that fully covered her bosom, and her skirt ended just above the knees, much longer than anything he’d ever seen on her. She wore flats, but he attributed that to her condition.
“Well, I guess we’ve all been busy,” she said. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, making him forget the drabness of their color for a moment. This hardly seemed like the vivacious Deborah he’d once known. And yet, there was something new about her that hadn’t been there before either. A glow almost. Hell, he thought, that’s corny. A glow. Rocks.
She glanced at her wrist chronometer and said, “I must run, Van. Are you going downtown?”
He’d been heading for Carson Fields’ office when he met her. “Yes,” he said, “I am.”
“Good, we’ll share a car.”
They caught a dual car, and they sat side by side as the buildings sped by in a blur outside. They talked of little things, neither of them mentioning the change in her. He wondered if he should ask her for the money she’d promised, but he still felt like a stranger, and he decided that could wait until they really needed it.
The topic somehow swung to drugs, and he asked, “Have you been having trouble getting fixed, Deb?”
She smiled tolerantly. “I’m off it, Van; I’m having a baby, you know. They don’t mix well.”
“You look grand,” he said.
“I feel grand. I really do. I feel better than I’ve ever felt. It’s quite a wonderful thing, Van. It’s a shame it’s such an exclusive experience.”
“Exclusive?”
“Women only.”
He smiled. “Oh, yes.”
They watched the buildings flash by outside. Autumn had lingered longer than it should have. The trees were bare of leaves now, but the air was still refreshingly mild when it should have been bitingly cold.
“I wish winter would come,” she said.
“I don’t like winter,” he answered.
“Too much clothing? Even though it’s see-thru?” There was a smile on her face; he didn’t understand the smile, and it irritated him.
“Well, yes,” he said defensively.
“But so good. Such a good season. So cold outside, and so warm inside. I always think of pot belly stoves in the winter, Van. Cherry red, so hot that you can spit at them and hear them sizzle. I love winter.”
“I’m a summer man,” he said. “Swimming, sand, outdoor parties.”
“Parties,” she said. There was a sadness in her voice, or was it that? He didn’t quite know. He stared at her, and there was that same wistful smile on her face. He wondered for a moment if she had snapped her lid. Hell, she sounded rational enough.
“I hope it’s not a mild winter,” she went on. “I like them with a lot of snow, the kind that stays crisp on top because the weather turns cold right afterwards. That kind.” She seemed to sense his indifference, and she turned and smiled ingratiatingly. “Forgive me, Van, I didn’t mean to run on so.”
“That’s quite all right.”
“It’s just that I’m so happy now, you see.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “I’m glad the Inseminar was a success.”
She hesitated a moment before answering. “Well... not exactly.”
He didn’t catch her meaning at first. When it hit him, he stared at her in surprise. A feeling of revulsion gripped him, and he almost wanted to leap out of the car to get away from her.
“I thought you knew,” Deborah said softly. “Rog Moore and I are married.”
“Married!”
Deborah turned away from him and gazed steadily through the window of the car. “A person gets tired of parties,” she said after a while.
There was only one thing wrong with the trial tactics of Carson Fields, attorney at law, and lie did not — unfortunately — discover that one thing until the day of the trial.
When prosecuting attorney Corona’s first witness took the stand, Fields was still smiling confidently at his table near the judge’s bench. His assembled clients had been delegated one entire portion of the courtroom, a portion which afforded them a good view of the bench, the witness’ chair, the jury box, and the long bank of windows overlooking Court Square. Van Brant sat among the gathered defendants, and when he saw the smile on Fields’ face, he couldn’t help smiling himself. Pelazi was in for a hell of a licking, and there was nothing Van would enjoy more. And to top it all, Fields was ready to present a few Suzy Q’s of his own, the second this trial was decided in favor of his clients. Ah yes, the entire thing looked as rosy as a posy. Van sat back to enjoy it.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” the court attendant was saying, and Corona’s witness said, “I do,” and then Corona looked at the jury for a moment before walking over to the chair. He raised one leg onto the dais, stared at his witness, and then said, “Suppose you tell the court just where you were on the night of June thirtieth of this year?”
“Objection!” Fields said. “Defense attorney would appreciate knowing the witness’ name.”