Modus Vivendi Part 5

"And you are really resisting that?"

"Wouldn't you? Of course I had to tell the Bank to refuse rest.i.tution.

But do you think Psi is a sickness, like narcotic addiction? Nonsense.

Telepathy is no more sickness than the ability to discriminate colors, or hear the tones of a scale. This is equivalent to the color-blind and tone-deaf asking that the rest of us stop perceiving color or hearing the pitch of sound. Ridiculous."

"What is the cure?"

"We could argue all night," he said wearily. Then my buzzer sounded.

"Expecting anybody else?" he said, alarmed in an instant.

"I can't think of anybody I'd like to find out that you were here," I said. "Get out of sight." He carried his drink into my bedroom.

Mike Renner was at the door. For a fat-faced bookkeeper with a law degree, he looked pretty grim and formidable.

"You rotten double-crosser," he greeted me. I was the darling of practically everybody in New York that night.

"It happens every time. Now what do you want, Renner?"

"To break your neck," he said. "You have found that Psi, Mary Hall, and you haven't turned her over to Dunn. That's a dirty double--"

"With good reason," I cut in on him. "Do we both have to be idiots?

I've just finished having the girl tested. She hasn't got the Stigma, Mike. Dunn will look like a fool trying to pin anything on the Judge."

"That's not our business. Our fee depends on giving her to Dunn!" He shook a fist in my face when he said that. He just doesn't look the part.

"And the reputation of our firm can very well depend on my successfully representing her, and proving that she hasn't got the Stigma."

"You don't honestly mean you're going to represent that Psi!"

"I just _told_ you she hasn't got the Stigma!"

"You are a rotten lair," Renner said, getting dangerously red in the face. "What kind of games are you playing with Pa.s.sarelli? What has _he_ got to do with the reputation of our firm? Don't try to lie," he said sharply. "I know he's here. He's been tailed all night."

That was enough for Pa.s.sarelli. He came out of the bedroom and walked up to Renner. "Forgive me for saying this, Renner," he said. "But I just hope you have a case in my court. I'll find some way to pin one of your slippery tax frauds to you!"

Renner grew pale. He's conditioned to toady to judges. He didn't have the guts to answer Pa.s.sarelli, and took it out on me, instead. "Our partnership is dissolved, as of right now," he seethed. He dragged some money out of his pocket and threw it on the rug. "There's your share of the rent. I'm throwing your stuff out in the hall in the morning. The auditors will be there at nine o'clock for an accounting.

You won't need that address any longer--only reputable people come to our building." He stormed out.

Pa.s.sarelli and I faced each other in silence. "Jerk!" I raged at him at last. "You couldn't check to see if you were being followed!"

"I regret that," he said. "But you invited me."

"Don't remind me," I snarled. "What now?"

"I don't know about you," Pa.s.sarelli said. "But I'm going to start looking out for myself. You're too tricky, Maragon."

"And I suppose you think it's time I ditched Mary Hall, eh?"

"What for?" he said mildly. "You're just one more Criminal Court shyster now--Renner gave you the heave-ho. You might as well defend her, even if I can't work with you."

I could feel my belly tighten with rage. "I thought you'd welcome a reputable attorney who would represent Psis," I reminded him.

"Yes, I suppose I would. Very much."

"All of a sudden I'm not reputable?"

"Reputable?" he sneered. "You've been on every side of this thing.

Would you like to explain why you told Renner one thing and me another?"

"Same reason you've been going through some contortions yourself--trying to save my profession and occupation."

"Too tricky for me," Pa.s.sarelli said.

I measured him with my eyes. "That's not the reason you're walking out of here. What's bugging you?"

"Reading my mind?" he said coldly. It wasn't the first time I'd been accused of it. "But you're right. You lied to me."

"To you? Not so."

"Oh, yes. How do you know that Mary Hall used HC on you in Lindstrom's laboratory? Nothing but Psi could detect that. You had a TK there with you. Admit it."

"Never," I said. "How did you spot it in your courtroom? If I needed a TK, so did you. What about that?"

"That was different," he argued. "I had the--"

"Nuts," I told him. "Just because I have made as much of a study of Psi as you have, don't blackball me. You going to act the same way if I decide to specialize in Stigma cases?"

"Are you going to?"

"What else is left? I'll never get Normal trade after Renner finishes with me. I come back to it: A reputable attorney representing Psis."

Pa.s.sarelli paused with his hand on the door. "It would have some interest, I guess," he conceded, "if I thought for a moment you could guarantee the behavior of your clients. But no Normal can, Maragon.

That's the curse of the Logan Stigma. Normals are panicked by it. Look at the Bar a.s.sociation and all the trouble that's gone to just to make sure no one with the Stigma is ever admitted to the Bar. Look at those pathetic social workers--trying to control what they can't even perceive. The color-blind man trying to make sure no one else sees red. No, only Psis will ever be able to make Psis behave. They will have to police themselves, and society is unwilling to give them any standing to do it. This I believe is called a dilemma."

"It's a mess, that's for sure," I said gloomily as he left.

Well, what do you do when the props have been pulled out from under your world? I like to believe that the reasonable man sits down and thinks. That's what I did, anyway. I was a guy with very little left to lose. It was time I bet the limit--shot my wad. There was one possibility....

I looked at my watch. It was well after one in the morning. Still, I tried Elmer's place again. He came sleepily to the phone.

"Mary there?"

"Of course not."

"Keys?"