Runaway Heart

THIRTY-EIGHT

Herman's phone rang, blasting him out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He rolled over and snatched it up. After listening to the recorded wakeup message, he called the federal court clerk's office, and confirmed that his TRO had arrived. He had been assigned a hearing for 10:30 that morning in Courtroom Sixteen.

Looking at Jack Wirta's rumpled, empty bed, he rolled to a sitting position feeling surprisingly good. He showered his big, ugly body, soaping and lathering, being careful not to get the stitches too wet on his lower abdomen. Then he toweled down and shaved with extra care, dressed in his number 4s, using a Wellington knot on his black-and-white-striped tie. His last grooming touch was to plaster his unruly hair down with water.

Herm surveyed his sagging, basset hound reflection and said, "You are one goddamn beautiful son of a bitch."

He woke Susan and Sandy by knocking on their door, then found Jack having breakfast out on the patio overlooking the ocean. Herman heard him come in around three, and rolled over and snarled at him to be quiet, before going right back to sleep.

"Our TRO goes before a judge at ten thirty, Federal Court Sixteen," Herman said as he sat at the table. "A very lucky number, if you believe in numerology."

Jack looked puzzled.

"Sixteen. One and six equals seven."

"Shit, I always miss that one," Jack said sourly.

"How'd you and Susan do?"

"Depends on the category."

Herman looked troubled. "It isn't that I don't want you to take her out, Jack. Hey, she makes her own decisions on who she dates. It's just now may not be the most appropriate time."

"I'm known for my bad timing. Celebrated for it, in fact."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Herman reached over and snagged a slice of Jack's rye toast, buttered it, ladled on some strawberry jam, and started eating.

"Chief Ibanazi lives at 264 Chalon Road in Bel Air," Jack said. "It's a three-acre Spanish mansion. He's a record producer just setting up a new company. So far, I think he's still just working on getting cool stationery. The real news is why he's not living on the reservation." Then Jack proceeded to explain the federal government lease and the seventeen hundred acres rented by the feds to beat the EPA restrictions. Herm listened while he finished the first slice of toast, then helped himself to another.

"I can get you some of your own," Jack offered.

"Always tastes better off someone else's plate."

"Perfect sentiment from a lawyer."

"I think we need to find out what's out there on that reservation," Herman said.

"I just told you-a pit full of toxic or nuclear waste. No EPA leakproof containers, no EPA standards, no ground-pool testing-so everybody drinking the water out in Indio will probably glow in the dark ten years from now."

"How do we know it's really toxic waste?" Herm was skeptical.

"Ahh… you mean a CIA cover story? Conspiracy, right?"

"Right." Herman took another piece of toast.

"Steal another slice and you're gonna wear this fork as a tie pin."

"Jesus, you're touchy." Herman grinned; he was really enjoying the morning… the crashing waves and cool ocean mist. He was looking forward to the legal jousting that would take place in a couple of hours.

"I think you should go out to Van Nuys airport, rent a plane, head to Indio, find the reservation, and do a flyover," Herman suggested.

"Maybe I'll do that first thing this afternoon."

"I wouldn't wait for the afternoon."

"Herman, if you think I'm gonna miss seeing you in court with a monkey as a client, then you've got better drugs than me."

"Except he's not gonna be there. His DNA chart is gonna be there. It's gonna be very dull."

"You may be a lot of things, Herman, but dull ain't one of them."

The good news was that the surprise TRO made DARPA scramble. Their lawyers arrived in the second floor corridor outside of Federal District Courtroom Sixteen obviously unprepared. They sat on wooden benches, riffling through law books propped on their knees. Some were rereading the rules governing TROs, others were studying Herman's show-cause order. There were six of them, and they all looked and dressed identically. If the feds ever started cloning attorneys as well as chimps, Jack thought these guys could be Exhibit One.

The bad news was, Herman had been notified about ten minutes after he arrived that the judge assigned to the case was none other than his old nemesis, Melissa King. Since that devastating revelation, Herman, Susan, and Sandy had been off in a corner, whispering and gesticulating. Herman's entire strategy had been to get a liberal judge, then squeeze through a legal loophole. Now he was forced to argue his TRO on behalf of Charles the Chimera in front of Melissa the Merciless. Impossible.

Jack was left standing alone with Dr. Adjemenian. She was in tailored brown, and her long hawk face and sculpted body looked dangerous and ready to rumble.

"How's Tim?" he said, trying to be friendly and release some tension.

"We haven't been able to get back to our place for two days," she said angrily. "The landlord said somebody broke in and searched it."

"Really? Well, my gosh." So much for small talk.

The bailiff opened the door and stepped into the hall. "Everybody for Judge King's Federal Court hearing on the temporary restraining order against DARPA, we're getting ready to start," he announced.

The cloned attorneys all spun around and looked over their shoulders like guys caught jerking off.

Nobody seemed ready-not Herman, or any of DARPA's gunslingers.

Jack found a seat in the back next to an old woman dressed in a forty-year-old running suit with "L.A. Thunderbirds" printed on it. She smelled a little like wine and moldy newspapers. Next to him on the other side was a thirty-year-old, stringy-haired man who had cleverly released the pressure on his swollen feet by cutting the toes out of his shoes.

Good spot. I fit right in, Jack mused.

After the "oyez" the door opened and Melissa King waddled into her courtroom.

Herman had moved behind the plaintiff's table with Susan and Sandy. Everyone stood as Melissa hoisted herself up the four steps using the rail, pulling on it like a stevedore dragging a line ashore. She made it to the landing, then into her chair.

The baby had dropped since Herman had last seen her, she was now carrying it low in front of her like a basket of laundry. She banged her gavel just as Joseph Amato, the government's lead attorney, swept into the courtroom dressed to kill. He was late and still reading the TRO as he came through the door.

"All here, Mr. Amato?" Melissa said.

"Seems so, Your Honor," he replied, still scanning the document.

"Okay, so what's the deal on this one, Herman?" Starting right in on him.

"Your Honor, I've filed all of the paperwork with your office and-"

"I've read it. Seems pretty flaky, if you ask me."

"Flaky, Your Honor? Well, uh… we'll have to trust you to see the merits once we've argued them."

"Right. So who is this Charles Chimera? Where is he?"

"Your Honor, he's not able to be here. I will shortly enter evidence of his existence. However, if I might have permission to do this in the way I have planned…"

"How's that, Herman? With balloons and a dancing bear?"

Herman heaved a deep sigh. He wasn't going to get into it with her this time… at least, not if he could help it. Fortunately there was no jury.

"I see in this TRO, words like, 'being,' and 'end-product.' I hope Mr. Chimera isn't some kinda animal, Herman, 'cause if he is, you're outta here feet first."

"Your Honor, you ask a very good question, and that leads me to my first request."

"Oh, for the love of God, who's your client? We did butterflies last week. What is it now?"

"Your Honor, are you familiar with DNA and its use in regard to the identification of a specific species?"

"Of course, Herman. I'm a federal judge. We deal with DNA constantly."

"Since Your Honor is familiar with DNA identification techniques, then you must agree that DNA is an infallible tool for classifying species. If, for instance, a tiny speck of DNA is left behind at a crime scene, we know we can determine exactly what species left it. We can run a DNA scan on that tissue, and, for example, if it was left by a dog, we can determine that it is a dog's DNA beyond a scintilla of a doubt. But more than just any dog, we can determine its exact breed. We can even determine between close breeds such as an Alaskan Husky and a Siberian Husky. We can similarly determine if the blood or tissue was left by a Homo sapiens-a human being. It is very exact.

"Your Honor, we will stipulate that DNA is a perfect yardstick for species identification," Amato said, putting a tinge of both frustration and boredom into his voice-a thing that Jack knew, from hours in court as a cop, was very hard to do. Only a guy billing out at over a thousand dollars an hour would even attempt it.

"Good. Counsel stipulates," Herman smiled. "But I would also like Your Honor's ruling."

"Okay, Herman, I accept the stipulation of the parties that DNA provides exact identification of a species. For the record, that fact will be deemed established for all purposes in this case. Now what or who is Charles Chimera? Stop messing around here."

"Charles Chimera and the five John Doe chimeras I represent are all human-chimp genetic hybrids," Herman said softly.

"I beg your pardon?" Judge King leaned forward.

"Charles Chimera is a genetically designed being. He is a chimpanzee who has illegally had his DNA altered and upgraded, making him much closer to Homo sapiens than a normal chimpanzee."

"Objection, Your Honor," Amato chimed in, coming to his feet this time. "If this TRO is being sought on behalf of an animal, that strikes to 'standing.' As Your Honor knows, animals don't have rights under the United States Constitution. Furthermore, we demand that this TRO be voided on the grounds that animals can't hire attorneys, so therefore Mr. Strockmire has no authority to represent this so-called being."

"Herman?" Judge King said, scowling at him while at the same time trying to find a position that was more comfortable. Her huge stomach had somehow gotten wedged below the desk. She pushed her swivel chair back to make room for the baby, who Herman thought would probably be born wearing a black cape.

"Your Honor," Herman continued, "Charles Chimera, in fact, did hire me. Last night, out at Barbra Streisand's pool. There is a witness." Herman glanced at Sandy. "He reached out his hand and beseeched me to help him. If Mr. Amato disagrees, let him bring Charles Chimera into court to testify that he didn't hire me."

"How about you bring him in to say he did?" Amato responded.

"Your Honor, in due time, when he is able, that will happen. As to standing, Charles Chimera and his John Doe brothers are, in fact, chimpanzees who have been made almost human with DNA upgrades."

"That's it! I've heard enough. We're done." Melissa started to rise, but it was an awkward procedure that took her a moment, so Herman rushed on.

"Your Honor, I need only a few more minutes. I beg you to listen. If you will not, then I will be forced to take this problem elsewhere."

"Yeah, like where's that, Herman? The Zoo Association?"

"No, Your Honor, to a full judicial review."

"You're really asking for it." She glowered, but sat back down.

"I intend to put a doctor of genetics under oath who will explain to you that a normal chimpanzee's homology is 98.4 percent of human DNA."

"Right," she shot back. "But it's not a human, so it has no legal standing," Melissa growled. "I'm so sick of your sloppy, unorthodox behavior. When will you start practicing the law like the rest of us?"

"It's a hybrid," Herman persisted. "But if, as has been established, we're using DNA to determine the boundary line for humanity, then at least we can probably all agree that chimpanzee DNA is extremely close."

"But it's not human. So, that's it." She rose again.

"Your Honor, would you accept a case on behalf of a Down's syndrome child? Can anyone seriously posit that such a child is not human for purposes of legal standing?"

"Of course-there's standing there. But a Down's syndrome child is a human being."

"That's right, Your Honor. It's human, but with DNA that is only 99.1 percent of normal human DNA. That extra chromosome alters the DNA by nine tenths of one percent. But Charles Chimera actually has DNA that is closer to a normal human being than a Down's syndrome child. This being's human-enhanced DNA is ninety-nine point three percent of a normal Homo sapiens. It has just been established by this court that DNA is the proper measurement for determining humanity. Since you just agreed you would accept a Down's syndrome child with only 99.1 percent homology, it is the plaintiff's position that this court cannot refuse standing to one Charles Chimera, whose DNA is two tenths of a point closer to human homology than that of a Down's syndrome child."

Melissa King was on her feet looking down at Herman with her mouth open.

"You can't be serious."

"You accepted the stipulation, Your Honor."

"You son of a bitch. When is the Lawyer Review Board gonna just be done with it and jerk your license?"

"With all due respect, Your Honor, the court must rule. Will you hear this case on behalf of Charles Chimera, whose DNA is closer to normal human DNA than that of a Down's syndrome child? Or will you refuse him his rightful access to due process provided under the Constitution of the United States of America?"

She was trapped. Herman had tricked her into an impossible situation.

Melissa King was furious at him and at herself, but she was damned if she was going to hear a case with a chimpanzee as the plaintiff. She'd be an even bigger laughingstock in the legal community than Herman Strockmire Jr.

So Melissa King did the only thing she could do to avoid handing down a ruling… her water broke and she went into labor.