'I will do so. But I have another search warrant, similar to the first, for Gillian Boardman.'
'Who?'
'Gillian Boardman. The charge is kidnapping.'
'My goodness!'
'And another for Hector C. Johnson? and one for Valentine Michael Smith? and one for you, Jubal Harshaw.'
'Me? Taxes again?'
'No. Look at it. Accessory to this and that? and material witness on some other things? and I'd take you in on my own for obstructing justice if the warrant didn't make it unnecessary.'
'Oh, come now, Captain! I've been most cooperative since you identified yourself and started behaving in a legal manner. And I shall continue to be. Of course, I shall still sue all of you - and your immediate superior and the government - for your illegal acts before that time? and I am not waiving any rights or recourses with respect to anything any of you may do hereafter. Mmm? quite a list of victims. I see why you brought an extra wagon. But - dear me! something odd here. This, uh, Mrs. Borkmann? - I see that she is charged with kidnapping this Smith fellow? but in this other warrant he seems to be charged with fleeing custody. I'm confused.'
'It's both. He escaped - and she kidnapped him.'
'Isn't that rather difficult to manage? Both, I mean? And on what charge was he being held? The warrant does not seem to state?'
'How the devil do I know? He escaped, that's all. He's a fugitive.'
'Gracious me! I rather think I shall have to offer my services as counsel to each of them. Interesting case. If a mistake has been made - or mistakes - it could lead to other matters.'
Heinrich grinned coldly. 'You won't find it easy. You'll be in the pokey, too.'
'Oh, not for long, I trust.' Jubal raised his voice more than necessary and turned his head toward the house. 'I do know another lawyer. I rather think, if Judge Holland were listening to this, habeas corpus proceedings - for all of us - might be rather prompt. And if the Associated Press just happened to have a courier car nearby, there would be no time lost in knowing where to serve such writs.'
'Always the shyster, eh, Harshaw?'
'Slander, my dear sir. I take notice.'
'A fat lot of good it will do you. We're alone.'
'Are we?'
XV
VALENTINE MICHAEL SMITH SWAM through the murky water to the deepest part of the pool, under the diving board, and settled himself on the bottom. He did not know why his water brother Jubal had told him to hide there; indeed he did not know that he was hiding. His water brother Jubal had told him to do this and to remain there until his water brother Jill came for him; that was sufficient.
As soon as he was sure that he was at the deepest part, he curled himself into the foetal position, let most of the air out of his lungs, swallowed his tongue, rolled his eyes up, slowed his heart down to almost nothing, and became effectively 'dead' save that he was not actually discorporate and could start his engines again at will. He also elected to stretch his time sense until seconds flowed past like hours, as he had much to contemplate and did not know how quickly Jill would come to get him.
He knew that he had failed again in an attempt to achieve the perfect understanding, the mutually merging rapport - the grokking - that should exist between water brothers. He knew that the failure was his, caused by his using wrongly the oddly variable human language, because Jubal had become upset as soon as he had spoken to him.
He now knew that his human brothers could suffer intense emotion without any permanent damage, nevertheless Smith was wistfully sorry that he had been the cause of such upset in Jubal. At the time, it had seemed to him that he had at last grokked perfectly a most difficult human word. He should have known better because, early in his learnings under his brother Mahmoud, he had discovered that long human words (the longer the better) were easy, unmistakable, and rarely changed their meanings? but short words were slippery, unpredictable, changing their meanings without any pattern. Or so he seemed to grok. Short human words were never like a short Martian word - such as 'grok' which forever meant exactly the same thing. Short human words were like trying to lift water with a knife.
And this had been a very short word.
Smith still felt that he had grokked rightly the human word 'God' - the confusion had come from his own failure in selecting other human words. The concept was truly so simple, so basic, so necessary that any nestling could have explained it perfectly - in Martian. The problem, then, was to find human words that would let him speak rightly, make sure that he patterned them rightly to match in fullness how it would be said in his own people's language.
He puzzled briefly over the curious fact that there should be any difficulty in saying it, even in English, since it was a thing everyone knew else they could not grok alive. Possibly he should ask the human Old Ones how to say it, rather than struggle with the shifting meanings of human words. If so, he must wait until Jubal arranged it, for here he was only an egg and could not arrange it himself.
He felt brief regret that he would not be privileged to be present at the coming discorporation of brother Art and brother Dottie.
Then he settled down to reread in his mind Webster's New International Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition, published in Springfield, Massachusetts.
From a long way off Smith was interrupted by an uneasy awareness that his water brothers were in trouble. He paused between 'sherbacha' and 'sherbet' to ponder this knowledge. Should he start himself up, leave the enfolding water of life, and join them to grok and share their trouble? At home there could have been no question about it; trouble is shared, in joyful closeness.
But this place was strange in every way? and Jubal had told him to wait until Jill came.
He reviewed Jubal's words, trying them out in long contemplation against other human words, making sure that he grokked. No, Jubal had spoken rightly and he had grokked rightly; he must wait until Jill came.
Nevertheless he was made so uneasy by the certain knowledge of his brothers' trouble that he could not go back to his word hunt. At last an idea came to him that was filled with such gay daring that he would have trembled had his body not been unready for trembling.
Jubal had told him to place his body under water and leave it there until Jill came? but had Jubal said that he himself must wait with the body?
Smith took a careful long time to consider this, knowing that the slippery English words that Jubal had used could easily lead him (and often had led him) into mistakes. He concluded that Jubal had not specifically ordered him to stay with his body? and that left a way out of the wrongness of not sharing his brothers' trouble.
So Smith decided to take a walk.
He was a bit dazed at his own audacity, for, while he had done it before, twice, he had never 'soloed.' Each time an Old One had been with him, watching over him, making sure that his body was safe, keeping him from becoming disoriented at the new experience, staying with him until he returned to his body and started it up again.
There was no Old One to help him now. But Smith had always been quick to learn; he knew how to do it and was confident that he could do it alone in a fashion that would fill his teacher with pride. So first he checked over every part of his body, made certain that it would not be damaged while he was gone, then got cautiously out of it, leaving behind only that trifle of himself needed as watchman and caretaker.
Then he rose up and stood on the edge of the pool, remembering to behave as if his body were still with him, as a guard against disorienting - against losing track of the pool, the body, everything, and wandering off into unknown places where he could not find his way back.
Smith looked around.
An air car was just landing in the garden by the pool and beings under it were complaining of injuries and indignities done them. Perhaps this was the trouble he could feel? Grasses were for walking on, flowers and bushes were not - this was a wrongness.
