Izzy laughed hollowly. "You just don't understand this legal system. The operative word is MONEY. The only way a lawyer can make a fortune is to sue people

for millions and split the court award with his client. The courts award those millions, too. Now, the defense attorney of such a suit can only make money by dragging it out and bleeding his client white for fees."

"Any honest government would stop such nonsense in a minute," said Heller.

"Listen. The legislators and congressmen are mostly lawyers. They are the ones who make the laws that regulate the conduct of courts. So of course they will pass no real legislation that will cut the awards and fees to their colleagues: when they finish office, these same legislators will be right back there practicing law again and would be unable to become millionaires overnight with insane suits and crazy fees. No, you've fallen into the legal soup, Mr. Jet. Like quicksand or the New York sewage system. They've got service on you. You have to appear. And meanwhile the press wrecks your reputation and even if you win, it will be years from now and you will be out millions, maybe bankrupt."

"Hey!" said Heller. "Nobody can live in a society like that!"

"Listen, Mr. Jet, only the bums win in a society like this. A spectacular, competent fellow like you hasn't got a chance."

"In another place I know," said Heller, "anybody who tried a swindle like this suit would be sent to prison and the attorneys right along with her."

"Well, that's not here, Mr. Jet. And that's why I never let you connect your name to any of these corporations. You're a good guy. That's why, when all this first began, I bought you a ticket for Brazil and told you about the place where they only have ants: not a lawyer in the lot. But now we're into a legal mess and we have to have a lawyer."

"We've got to do something," said Heller. "I'll give this paper to Philup Bleedum of Bleedum, Bleedum and Drayne, one of the corporation attorneys," said Izzy. "He can file an appearance and torts and writs and stuff. I won't let you talk to him as I don't want you any more depressed than you are. I'll be sure to operate the device that can see the future on the market like mad because we will need millions just to defend this. And maybe five or six years from now, it will be over." "I can't wait that long."

"Oh, it probably really won't be that long," said Izzy. "Usually in such a suit, especially when it is false, vexatious and harassing, the defendant has to file personal bankruptcy long before it is over, as he cannot possibly pay his own attorney fees."

"Izzy," said Heller, "are you just being your usual pessimistic self?"

"Oy, Mr. Jet! I'm talking about the legal system. Knowing what I do about the ruination it is built around, I thought I was being optimistic! I didn't mention possibly going to jail for contempt and losing the whole thing for not appearing in court."

"This could wreck my whole mission," said Heller despondently.

"That's all the legal system is designed to do," said Izzy. "Enrich the lawyers and bums and ruin everybody else. But cheer up. An atomic war might intervene and settle everything."

"With a legal system as insane as that, they deserve it," said Heller and left.

That alarmed me a little bit. And then I realized that he hadn't packed any atomic bombs I knew of in his suitcase.

But this interview had gotten me thinking.

Yes, I knew anybody on this planet could sue anybody for anything and often did.

Supposing Miss Pinch and Candy took it into their heads to sue me over their pregnancies? Double jeopardy.

I could see myself on the run, hiding out in wino hotels for years trying to avoid service of suits, sitting in musty courtrooms for months being worked over by attorneys like Dingaling, Chase and Ambo.

I was guilty as Hells. That made me cheer up a little bit. If I was really culpable, they would find me innocent, of course. Only the innocent were ever found guilty.

Then I saw that the Countess Krak was still in her room, crying as though her heart would break.

It cheered me enormously.

Little did I know the next horror coming my way.

I was about to get the anvil's view of the hammer.

For three days Madison let the paternity suit boil along. The sex-and-outlaw theme really got its play. The farmer's daughter, Maizie Spread, was on prime-time national TV, giving diagrams of where and how and about how many times and even offering to demonstrate. It was POPULAR!

Heller was walking around distractedly. The Countess Krak stayed in her room. Mission Earth had been brought to a HALT!

But there was a danger that activity on their part might start up again. I phoned Madison.

"We've got a hit," said Madison. "When that suit gets into the courts, it can run for years. The climax will come when she claims he got other members of his gang to rape all the livestock, but that won't be for weeks yet."

"I noticed one of the papers let it drop to page three today," I said.

"Yes, I know," said Madison, "we're using the Rocke-center lines to have the editor fired."

"But what if the other papers start putting it on page three?" I said. I was learning to talk to Madison.

"We'll fire the lot," he said.

"But wait, you can't fire all the editors in the coun-try."

"Yes, I can!" he said.

"No, you can't," I said.

"Yes, I can!" he said.

"Look," I said. "If you did, you might not have any papers."

"Yes, there's that," he said.

"So why don't you deliver some mortal blow?" I said.

"Mortal blow? I resent that, Smith. All we're doing is trying to help the fellow out: make him immortal. We want nothing to do with MORTAL blows! When we get through, he will be the most famous outlaw of all time. He will live forever in song and story. So don't talk to me about anything mortal!" He was quite cross.

"You had an editor drop it to page three," I said.

"Yes, there's that," he said. "But Smith, you're not a pro, worse luck. Did you think I wasn't going to climax it?"

"From the number of rolls in the hay I've seen described in press and on TV, I should have thought you were almost out of climaxes."

"Oh, pish, pish, and tush, tush, Smith. I see that you are not only no pro at this business, you also don't know the depths to which it can be pushed in this legal system. I thought you were here at this morning's conference. I didn't notice that you weren't. So now I see why you're wasting my time with phone calls that could be going to important people. I'm not going to go over the briefing again. Just look at tomorrow's press. Goodbye."

Nobody answered the phone when I rang back. He was probably just sitting there glaring at it and letting it ring. Or he was phoning some judge to tell him what to decide on some case.

I was wrong on both counts. When the next morn­ing came, it was very obvious that Madison was, indeed,

climaxing it. Banner headlines! The layouts made the paternity suit look like a notice for a church social. The story:

WHIZ KID SUED BY DESERTED WIFE!

ADULTERY ALLEGED!

SEIZURE OF WHIZ KID ASSETS ORDERED

Dingaling, Chase and Ambo this morning are filing suit against Whiz Kid Wister on behalf of Mrs. Toots Wister, nee Switch, alleging the grounds of adultery with Maizie Spread.

Under community property laws of Kansas and New York, Dingaling, Chase and Ambo are ordering all the Whiz Kid's assets frozen pending divorce settlement.

To a hushed assembly of all media, the tearful Mrs. Wister, in widow's weeds, sobbed out her pitiful tale. "He abandoned me," she said. "For a whole year I did not even know where he was. And now I find he was rolling in the hay with that Maizie Spread."