Gladiator-At-Law

Chapter Ten

Charles Mundin said: "Thanks for springing Bligh, Del." Dworcas said affably, "Hell, any time. Besides, he's a friend of the kid's. Now what's on your mind?" Mundin said, "G.M.L. Homes. Del, I think you've put me onto something. If it works out—Well, I won't forget."

"Sure, Charles. Look, it's getting late and I've got a couple things to do."

"I'll make it quick. This election, Del—let me out of it, will you? I mean, it isn't as if you need poll-watchers. And I could use the handout—but I can't spare the time."

Dworcas looked at bun appraisingly and made his decision. He grinned widely. "Hell, Charles—why should I get in your way? Hop on this deal if it looks so good. I'm not saying it won't leave me shorthanded—I've even got my kid brother helping out. God knows he won't be good for much but he ought to be able to hand out a dodger. So you think this G.M.L. deal is on the level, do you?"

Charles started to answer, but one of Dworcas's handymen stuck his head in the door. He whispered to Del.

Dworcas apologized, "Sorry, Charles, but Jimmy Lyons is here; excuse me a minute."

It really wasn't much more than a minute, even though when Dworcas came back he was walking slowly. He didn't look at Mundin.

Mundin said, "Yes, I do think it's on the level. At any rate, I'm going to give it a whirl."

Dworcas said to the wall, "Wonder if you're doing the right thing."

Mundin was startled. "How do you mean?"

Dworcas shrugged. "It's a pretty serious business, practicing a kind of law you aren't fitted for. It's your business, Mundin. I just don't want to see you getting into trouble."

Mundin said, "Wait a minute, Del! What's this about? It was your idea, wasn't it?"

Dworcas said coldly, "Worried, Mundin? Trying to hang it on me?" He picked up his phone in a gesture of dismissal. 'Take off, will you? I've got work to do."

It bothered Mundin all the way home, and it bothered him the next morning when he woke up.

It bothered him even more at the County Courthouse. He walked in with a nod to the duty cop, and the cop looked right through him. He said to the assistant clerk at the counter, "What do you say, Abe? How are the kids?" And the clerk mumbled something and closed his window with a bang.

By then Mundin began to catch on. He got sore, and he got determined. He waited in line at the next window and asked for the records he wanted. He sent back the wrong folder they gave him first; he pointed out that half the papers were missing from the right folder when he got it. He sat in the County Clerk's waiting room for two hours, until the secretary wandered in and said, with aggrieved hostility, "Mr. Cochrane has gone to lunch. He won't be back today." He wrote out a formal complaint on the sheet of paper she grudgingly gave him, alleging that he was being illegally and improperly hampered in his attempt to examine the corporate public-records files of G.M.L. Homes, Inc., and he doggedly left it with her, knowing what would happen to the paper as soon as he got out of the door. It fluttered into the wastebasket before he got out of the door, and he turned angrily to object.

The duty cop was standing right beside him, looking eager. Mundin went back to his office to think things over.

Fourteen billion dollars...

But how the devil did they know so fast? Not from Dworcas, Mundin told himself; he could swear that Dworcas didn't know the heat was on until Jimmy Lyons had called him out of the room. And Dworcas had sent him there in the first place. Because—Mundin flushed angrily at the thought, almost certain that it was right—because Dworcas was pretty sure that a two-bit ambulance chaser like himself wouldn't do them any good anyhow? And what had changed his mind if so?

Mundin kicked the Sleepless Secretary and went on pacing. In bell-like tones the Secretary told him that Mrs. Mundin would remit the full balance due by Friday.

He sat down at the desk. All right, so the going was going to be tough. That figured. What else would you expect? And the harder G.M.L. Homes made it, the more scared they were —didn't that figure? And the more scared they were, the more chance that this whole impossible thing was on the level, that Charles Mundin LL.B. stood on the threshold of corporate law.

He took out a piece of paper and began to figure. They could make it rough, but they couldn't stop him. He could get court orders to see the records, that was the obvious starting place, if only to make sure for himself that the Lavins were on the level; and as long as Norma Lavin was willing to call him her attorney-in-fact they couldn't keep him out. There would be a slowdown at the court, naturally. But it couldn't take more than a couple of days, and meanwhile he could get started on some of the other angles. Don's conditioning—might be a criminal charge in that somewhere, if he could get some names, dates, and places.

He reached for his model-forms book and began drafting a power of attorney for Norma Lavin to sign. She'd sign it, of course; she was an independent and, no doubt, a difficult person, but she didn't have much choice. Besides, he thought absently, a lot of that mannishness was undoubtedly protective coloration. In circumstances like hers, what could you expect?

The phone rang; he cut out the Sleepless Secretary hastily and picked up the receiver. "Mundin," he said.

The voice was ancient and utterly lost. "This is Harry Ryan," it quavered. "Norma—she isn't here. Better come out here, Mundin. I think they've picked her up."