McCampbell said, "I'm amazed every time I find someone who understands machinery."

"I don't, really. But Eunice Branca taught me to run one somewhat like yours." (Boss, you're learning how to lie—just tell the truth but not all of it.) (Honey girl, I invented that way of lying way back when your great-grandmother was a virgin.)

"First, Eunice Branca's death must be established. As it was murder, we will assume extensive records with positive identification including fingerprints—and since they are police records, we must also assume that they are vulnerable to any determined and well-financed attempt to destroy or replace them. Then Mrs. Branca's body must be followed into surgery and positive identification of the body again established at that point. Johann Schmidt's body must also be followed to that point and positively identified just before surgery. Then we must be certain beyond any doubt that the brain was removed from the Schmidt body—Joan Eunice, this must be distressing to you. Would you like to retire to my washroom? There's a couch in there."

"Please go ahead, sir; I've learned to live with it." (Makes me feel like throwing up, Boss.) (Me, too, darling—but we aren't going to; we're going to look solemnly serene. Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. Let's make a Lotus: this chair is big enough.) (Yes, darling. Om Mani Padme Hum.)

"—and finally, in court, we will take Joan Eunice's fingerprints, have them compared by experts with each earlier set, and thereby forge the final link. Joan Eunice, do I simply switch this off now?"

(After the three copies pop out, it will shut itself off.) "When the three copies pop out, it will erase and shut off. Jake, we're keeping these gentlemen from their fishing."

"Those fish aren't restless," the Judge assured her. "Just a moment." He stepped to his closed-circuit viewphone.

"Evelyn."

"Yes, Judge."

"How are things outside? Quiet?"

"Judge, how did you guess? I've got three men in the infirmary and the building is buttoned up. You might take a look on three and four, and then play back the sixteen o'clock spot news."

"How badly were your men hurt?"

"Nothing serious. One with a lungful of sneeze gas when we had to clear the main entrance and seal the riot doors, one with a flesh wound on a cheekbone, and the third with cracked ribs. My guess is the newsies bought ‘emselves a riot, as cameras were in position when the trouble started."

"I see. Are we going to need the Guard?"

"I wouldn't say so. The police have the streets around us pretty well patrolled and our own people are either staying overnight or being taken off the top by chopper. Message from Judge Anders—says there's no reason for you not to go fishing and he'll assume that he's presiding judge pro tem. He's staying in his chambers tonight."

"I'll call him and thank him. Off."

The Judge switched to view three, studied it. "Doesn't look too rough. Just the same they ought to tear this building down and build a stronger one farther from any Abandoned Area." He switched to view four. "Oh oh!"

The room filled with crowd roar, the screen showed a milling mob. Moving slowly through the crowd were two police Merrimac tanks, their loudspeakers monotonously repeating the warning-to-disperse. "Brother Schmidt, does your house have a copter landing?"

Joan shook her head. "No, it's designed so that a copter can't land on it. It seemed the safer choice when it was built."

"Well... I could put you into any, enclave by copter. Or you could stay here overnight."

Jake said, "Judge, my car is a Rolls-Skoda. We'll be all right."

"I can't force you to stay. But let's get a playback on the news and see what stirred up the lice." McCampbell punched the time in, then punched for playback.

"Headline of the Hour! Brain Transplant Fraud! Our earlier flash has been confirmed; the sensational brain transplant of Tycoon Johann Smith was a hoax. The question is: Did he die a natural death? Or was he murdered? The latter theory seems likely in view of today's bald-faced attempt to steal his enormous fortune through claiming in open court that his alleged former secretary, a woman of doubtful reputation going by the name of ‘Blanca'—"

Salomon growled, "Judge, would you mind shutting off that damned rot?"

McCampbell switched it off. "Seems I started something. Can't say I'm sorry. I will not let my courtroom be turned into a circus."

Joan Eunice said meekly, "I'm sorry, Judge."

"Eh? Joan Eunice, you are not at fault. You were forced into court needlessly and against your will; you did nothing. As for me, I hold to the old-fashioned ideal that a courtroom is where the Sovereign is present in person, dispensing equity and justice to all... not bread-and-circuses for the rabble. As long as I'm on the bench I'll run it that way, no matter how many news snoops get sore or how many hilts want a livelier show."

"I'm sorry your bailiffs were hurt."

"Well, so am I. But they aren't conscripts, they are career people who know it is hazardous. And they are necessary—if that bill ever passes to disarm bailiffs, that day I quit the bench, and the Law as well. Jake?"

"Yes, Mac?"

"You can risk your neck if you want to, but even a Rolls-Skoda is not a Merrirnac. Enough people can tip it over, then they can build a bonfire around it and roast you like chestnuts... and there are characters out there who would do it just for kicks. No, not a word out of you; I'm not going to let her leave this building in a ground car even if I have to reconvene court for three seconds and make her a ward again. She leaves by copter. The question is: Where does she go? You could sleep in my chambers, Joan Eunice; there is a buttery in the bar and the washroom is a complete bath and that couch opens into a bed. Lumpy, I'm afraid." (Ask Judgie Wudgie if he goes with the bed!) (I didn't hear you—and pipe down.)

"I was going to say," Jake said mildly, "that I have a house in Safe Harbor. Unstaffed and empty but it's a safe rendezvous. You could have your Chief Bailiff tell my driver and Shotgun to wait until this quiets down, then pick us up there—although I would bet on those boys to drive through any mob and not let the car be tipped; they're mean."

"No doubt. And wind up with a hit-and-run, too; we'll do it the easy way. Either of you want to use my washroom while I phone Evelyn and the roof?"

A few minutes later Jake and Joan were about to leave; the Judge's copter was waiting for them, he having brushed aside remarks about fish. Joan said, "Judge? I think you know I am grateful, but I would like to show my thanks by doing something—money, I mean—for those men who were hurt."

"No."

"Why not? Oh, I know it was not my fault but nevertheless they were hurt because of me. You know I can afford it."

"Because they are officers of the Court and I would have to treat it as constructive bribery. Tell her, Jake."

"He's correct, Joan—although he's being stuffy about it."

"Not too stuffy. Joan Eunice, there is an enclave home for dependents of police, bailiffs, firemen, and such, killed in line of duty. Jake can tell you about it. I would rather not hear what you do about it."

"I see." Joan ignored the fact that Jake was waiting with her robe, stepped closer to McCainpbell, turned her face up, and put her arms around his neck. "Does this constitute bribery?"

"I think so," McCampbell answered, putting his arms around her. "But I won't analyze it."

"Of course it's bribery! Get away from him, Brother Schmidt! I handle his bribes."

"Shut up, you noisy Mick."

Joan turned her face just as her lips were about to touch McCampbell's. "You're next on my bribe list, Brother Alec."

"So get back into line! R.H.I.P." McCampbell stopped any further words from her; she let her lips come softly open, did not hurry him. (Whee... 000! I thought so.)