The Weapon - Lex - part 15
By Diana the Valkyrie
Lunch with Kate
Update: 30/10/2003 to valkyrie05

I woke alone. Today was the day I was supposed to check Cute Chicken, but
frankly, I felt like I'd been put through a mangle. Yes, I'd slept well and I
didn't feel as bad as I had the previous night, but at my age it takes time
for the body to recuperate. Yes, I know I was supposed to be looking after the
interests of my client, but A) she wasn't actually paying me, and B) it's
hardly in her interests if I'm unable to function properly. So - I decided to
take a day off. Or at least, take some time off.

So, I thought, what do they do in San Andreas when they're looking for a bit
of fun? I expect they do all sorts of things. Me, I'm a solicitor, I thought
I'd go down to the courthouse and catch the free entertainment - listen to
some juicy trials. A murder, maybe, or a driveby shooting. A couple of rapes
and a serial psychopath maybe. You see, I watch the telly, I know what it's
like in America.

When I got there, I looked at what was on offer. But when I saw that Ms
Justice Langley was presiding in Court Three, it was an easy choice. I
justified it to myself as reconnaisance; knowing a bit about how the judge for
our case operated couldn't hurt. So, I sneaked in quietly, and sat at the
back, waiting for the courtroom drama to start.

The case I came in the middle of, was a fine of $50. I didn't find out what
he'd done. I then sat through a series of traffic offences, licence
applications and marital disputes; I suppose it should have been no surprise
that the bread-and-butter of justice is the same all over the world. The big
surprise came at lunch. Langley banged her gavel and said "Recess, one hour."
And before the clerk had a chance to say "All stand." she continued, "Mr
Mickleshaw, you'll join me for lunch, I hope?" "Er. Yes. Sure," I said, and
approached the bench. Justice Langley took off her robe, and said, "OK, now
I'm not a judge. Call me Kate." "Herbert," I said. "Hello Herbert. One rule,
no talk about the case, OK?" "Of course not," I said.

Over lunch, we talked mostly about the differences between the British court
system and the American. Although they're based on a common heritage, they've
diverged somewhat in the last 200 years. "I'd love to see you in your wig,
Herbert." she said. "Actually, we rarely wear them now, I don't even own one,"
I confessed. Plus there's the fact that solicitors don't stand up in court, I
thought.

Then she asked me about Wendy. "What's it like, living with, um, someone like
that?" she enquired. "I don't know," I said, "I don't live with her." "I think
I meant, what's she like as a person. All I've know is the stuff I read in the
papers. She's been seen quite a lot locally in the last few days, you know."
"What's she been doing?" I asked. "You don't know?" said Kate. "She doesn't
talk much about that stuff."

"Well," said Kate, "she hasn't talked to the press, but people have seen her
flying around, and some folks have reported various things. She seems to spend
a lot of time down at the children's playground." "Yes, she loves kids, that's
well documented. But what else have they been saying about her?" "She seems to
be just giving people a helping hand. Nothing dramatic, you know? No giant
robots or space invasions, just, well, one woman said she just flew through
her window and helped her fold up her sheets." "Yes. You know, I think if you
made a list of what she did each day, you'd wind up with a lot of things like
that. And I can tell you from personal experience, she's a great cook." "Oh,
I'm not too bad with the old pots and pans myself," she replied.

Now I might be naive and inexperienced, but I can recognise a hint when I hear
one. "Are you?" I said. She nodded, and suggested "Maybe when this case is
over, we might get together."

I examined that one carefully. You see, when you're in a foreign country, you
have to be aware that you don't have a perfect understanding of the language.
Oh sure, "cat" means "cat" and "dog" means "dog", but "cathouse" and
"doghouse" might not mean what you're used to. The finer shades of meaning get
lost in translation, and the fact that she spoke English didn't change that.
Worse, you don't know the customs. When does a tip become a bribe? When is it
OK to pay someone else's employee for better service, and when it is
baksheesh? This is a culture thing. So, I gave her a fairly neutral "That
would be nice", which left all options open. Because when you got right down
to brass tacks, she was a damn fine looking woman, educated and refined, and
liked to cook. Plus, I could talk about law, my favourite subject, without
boring her. So I emphasised my reply with a vigorous nod.

She looked at her mobile. "Oops, time to put the robes back on, thanks for the
company" and she dropped a few bills on the table and left. I added my half of
the lunch, and went back to the hotel. Time to do a bit more sleuthing.

I pulled out my mobile and blued it to the hotel port. Then I told it to
google for Cute Chickens. I waded through the kitsch decor and the salt and
pepper shakers until I wanted to barf. Nothing that looked like it matched. I
sat and thought about this for a while. Normally, if something won't google,
then it doesn't exist. But I had paperwork that proved that it did. I must be
missing something. Then I realised - of course! I had my spam-and-porno
filters on. I mean, you have to, otherwise you get bombarded with body part
enlargement ads, new diet pills and hot young fillies. And studs.

So, I disabled the spam-and-porno blocker, purely for research purposes, you
understand, and I regoogled. Bingo! Gotcha. Cute Chicks was a porno site, as I
suppose I might have guessed from the name. Interesting; but is that the same
as Cute Chickens? Maybe it's just a fast food chain. Or maybe I just found
their web site. If it is, then we have a nice little chain. Cute Chicks to
Cute Chicken Holdings, to Humanity Holdings, to Humanity First, to Roberts and
Williams Attorneys-at-law. Clearly, someone was hiding something here. But
what, and why? And what was their beef (or possibly their chicken) with Wendy?

Well, I thought, I'll follow that trail later. Because I also need to look in
the opposite direction too, I need to visit some of the people claiming the
damage, to assess whether their claims were bogus, or at least partly bogus.
For that, I needed transport. And much though I would prefer to leg it, or at
worst take a cab, time was running short. To get round more than just a few of
them, I'd need to go by air, and it would have to be something that had
vertical takeoff and landing capability. Furthermore, since I didn't have the
bunce to hire a chopper, it would have to be Wendy again.

That evening, when she flew in to join me for supper, I explained to her about
my plans for tomorrow. "You think I'm some sort of air taxi?" she asked and
she frowned at me. "Uh, um, uh," was all I could think of, plus her
bone-crushing threat of yesterday. Then she smiled, "Of course I will, babe,
no problem." "It's because we have to be in court the day after, and I want to
know if I need to challenge the amount. Although if it does come to a court
hearing, I'm confident that we'll win." "What do you mean, win?" "I mean, the
court will decide that you don't have to pay them."

"But that isn't what I want," she said.

"What?"

"Oh, Herbie, weren't you listening? Really, you humans, all the attention span
of a goldfish. I want to pay what I owe. The cost of not doing that, would be
to lose my reputation as a straight bat. And I really need that reputation,
like for when humanity gets asked to join in the galactic war. I'd rather have
your trust than any amount of money." "So you can make sure we're on the right
side?" "No, doofus, so I can make sure you stay out of it. Don't you
understand? There are no right sides, they all think they're right, and
humanity will just get raped up the arse to feed the war machine."

There was quite a long silence as I thought about being raped up the arse. Not
a happy thought.

"Yes, but ...," I said, and stopped. "Look, the point of this thing isn't to
escape paying what you owe, it's to establish how much you do owe. Some
people, if they've had a window broken by the quake, would try to replace all
their windows with brand new solar-active panelling. Whereas all they should
be entitled to, is the cost of the old window."

Wendy sat still, looking at me. "They'd lie?" "Duh," I said back to her. She
frowned. "Yes, I suppose they might." "Wendy, us humans are twisted and
devious, dishonest and deceitful. We'd rip off our own grandmothers by selling
them our mothers at inflated prices. A bit of exaggeration on the cost of
damage is generally regarded as being pretty damn honest, actually. What I'm
looking for is the ones that are trying to claim a hundred times the real
value of what they lost." She kept on looking at me. "Well," she said
defiantly, "I love you anyway. And I need to be more like you, you're my
babies, and I want to do my best for you."

I closed my eyes. And that was why I didn't see her coming until she had her
arms round me. "Oh, Herbie, let's not quarrel." Where does she get these
lines? "Enid Blyton, actually. Come on, time I fed you."

She pulled me out of the chair and hustled me to the lifts. After waiting for
a few moments, she said, "Come on, let's take the stairs," and pulled me into
the stairwell. Pulled me too hard, in fact; I tripped on the top step and
hurtled head first down three flight of stairs. It was only when we reached
the bottom that I realised why I hadn't broken my neck - I hadn't fallen, I'd
been pushed, and then carried very rapidly down three flights.

I grabbed the bannister at the bottom and hung on, looking at the steps
leading down another five flights. "Wendy?" "Mmm?" "Please don't do that
again." She smiled. And reached for my hand again ... "Aaarghh ..."

After supper, which was a very calming steamed halibut (my stomach couldn't
take another fiery blast right now), I suggested an early night, and an early
start tomorrow. I thought the early night would help my jetlag (it usually
lingers for a week or more). And the early start would get us around enough
claimants for me to be able to get a picture of how many of them were
exaggerating their claims.