Chapter 3

After hanging up the cellular phone with Harold, George entered the Caldecott tunnel. Billions of dollars for roads and they were never big enough. There ought to be a law that specifies that any new freeway be built with the opposite lanes several hundred feet apart so that when the planners finally come to their senses and make it 8 or 10 lanes each way you didn't have to rip out anything. George loved a good freeway. Ten lanes of smooth concrete going into the sunset made him feel good. It made him feel that life in America was great. Man's greatest invention was the bull dozer. There ought to be a Nobel Prize for freeway construction. But this stupid fear people had of tunnels drove him nuts. Four lanes entering the tunnel, four lanes leaving the tunnel, and four in the tunnel. But the mean speed entering was 15 miles an hour and the mean speed leaving was 65. One moron with tunnel fear and there would be a half hour wait to go through. Once out of the tunnel - his phone never worked well in the tunnel - he was on the phone again.

"Good afternoon, Cathcull Aeronautics. May I help you?" The secretary was dressed in standard heavy makeup and eleganza clothing.

"Good afternoon. This is George Stone. Is Dr. Cathcull available?"

"I am sorry he is at the test facility this afternoon. You may contact him there at 555-3289. Or you may leave a message." She picked up a pen to take a message.

George did both.

"Good afternoon. Cathcull Test Facility. May I help you?" Another secretary with exactly the same taste in clothing answered the phone.

"Good afternoon. This is George Stone. Is Dr. Cathcull available?

"Let me transfer your call." She hit the transfer button and pushed in the digits for the right phone.

"Dr. Cathcull. George Stone, from Micronetics."

"George, yes it's Walter, good to hear from you. We need some more equipment at the main office. Could you come by for a conference on Monday? Harry, fire it up!"

George heard the tremendous roar of a jet engine in the phone. This conversation might have to wait. But he had just made another sale and he could wait until Monday for discussing the vehicles. Besides the phone went dead just after Dr. Cathcull hit the end button.

Just as he entered Walnut Creek, George dialed the last number on the list. "Hello. Is John Thomas there?"

John was a cross between two diametrically opposed organisms: an attorney and an environmentalist. The attorney side of him was typical. He wore tailored suits. He spoke well. After talking to him you had the feeling that both his soul and your wallet were soon to be empty. The kind of person who simply profited from the misery of others. The kind of man who would sue a crippled widow for 10 million dollars, take half, and then ignore all. A condom between two people who were trying to fuck each other. I digress. You all know the type.

John was on the phone in a flash. "George, George Stone what can I do for you? I never expected to hear from you after that little problem with the chemical deterrent spray. How are you doing?"

"Fine, just fine. We paid off the last of that settlement six months ago." George hated and yet respected this man. And now he needed him.

"So, to what do I owe the great honor of a call?" John Thomas was ready for anything.

"I need someone to handle some legal PR work and write an environmental impact statement." George didn't want to tell him too much before he got him on retainer.

"George, with our history, frankly, I am surprised you would think of me." John always assumed that loosing a case lost a client. Usually this was true, but George must have realized he did not lose as badly as he might have.

"Yes. John, I thought of you because I need some environmental impact statement work and I knew that it would not offend your sensibilities. Frankly, I need your talents." John Thomas could make Chernoble look like a tourist resort. He was perfect and was immediately intrigued with the idea. There were no problems whatsoever. None. He could have opened a driving school for the blind. The guy was incredible. The law, he said, was there to let the guy with the most money do what he wanted. He would whip out the document on his word processor leaving blanks in all the spots we weren't sure about. He could quote numerous studies which if you actually looked them up, had almost nothing to do with the issues, but did not contradict his point. Two weeks of electronic cut and paste and we will have ourselves an environmental impact statement.

"George, you're home free. No one has ever considered your plan so there are no studies indicating it is a bad one. There aren't any critters there to begin with so there is no ecology to effect. No problem."

John was also the kind of guy who could testify year after year that there was no connection between smoking and lung cancer. Well, no conclusive proof, just statistics. Sitting here thinking about it, George had picked a true sleazoid to do the most important aspect of the project. It was uncharacteristic of George to be anything but above board, but it may have been from his total dislike of both lawyers and environmentalists that drove him to choose John. Anybody who would try to stop the development of a beautiful freeway must have a screw loose. The foundation of commerce and the great society were made of reinforced concrete and asphalt. Civil engineering made civilization. All reasonable people loved freeways, anybody who didn't, didn't love America. Anyone, who would stand in the way of clean clear drinking water, good roads, plentiful cheep electric power, sandy beaches, and clean yacht harbors was no friend of George Stone. So, anyone who could get around those guys, no matter how they did it, was a friend.

Chapter 4

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