The Lawyer Man

The Case of Stanbot: Episode 4

The following takes place immediately following: Messengers of the Court

Master Devlin slowly emerged from his fugue state, his eyes snapping open. He froze, instantly disoriented. He was sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of a dimly lit office—one he didn’t recognize. He squinted, his gaze wandering across the lavishly furnished room. Erotic nude paintings adorned the walls, their bold colors and forms uncomfortably prominent. Sculptures of similarly provocative nature dotted the space, giving the room an unsettling air of indulgence.

In front of him, a large, ornate desk stood imposingly. The leather chair behind it was turned away, its back to him. Above, a plume of smoke curled lazily into the air.

Master Devlin: Where the hell am I?

A slow exhale followed by the unmistakable sound of someone drawing deeply on a cigar. Then, from behind the chair, a voice cut through the silence.

Voice: You’re in the office of the Chief Advocate for the defense in the trial of Mr. Stanbot Smith...

Master Devlin: Oh, no... no!

The voice had an unmistakable Jack Nicholson-like drawl—charming, yet grating. Master Devlin felt his blood pressure spike as a wave of frustration washed over him. His hands clenched into fists, preparing for what was sure to be an infuriating encounter.

The leather chair creaked as it swiveled slowly, and there, sitting comfortably, was none other than Harris Travers, wearing that infuriating grin.

Travers: Helloooo, Master Devlin!

Master Devlin: Travers, what on earth is going on? What am I doing here??

Travers: I had associates bring you here so that we could have a little chat about my new client.

Master Devlin: You mean Stanbot? Why on earth are you representing him? You're a crook!

Travers: I'm a lawyer, Master Devlin. A damn good one. And you should be thankful I'm defending your friend. As for why, well, it's simple. As a member of the Advocate's Guild, I was assigned this case by the court.

Master Devlin: What are the charges against Stanbot?

Travers: Why do you ask? That's hardly relevant at this point.

Master Devlin: You don't know, do you?

Travers: Not a clue. It's not my job to know what he's accused of. Only to lobby in his defense.

Master Devlin: How can you defend him and not even know the charges?

Travers: Because it's not my place to know what he did or didn't do... I realize, as a layman, the law seems bizarre and incomprehensible to your tiny, walnut-sized brain, but the fact of the matter is that I know exactly what I'm doing. Why, I've already had lunch with twelve junior judges over the past week, speaking on Mr. Smith's behalf.

Master Devlin: Having lunch with judges is your idea of a good defense?

Travers: Of course it is. It's just how these things are done.

Master Devlin: So these judges... I suppose you told them they were speaking out of turn?

Travers: On the contrary, I opted for a more diplomatic, less confrontational approach.

Master Devlin: Oh?

Travers: It's for my client's benefit. He made quite a scene at his preliminary hearing, I understand—before I was assigned his case. From all accounts, he was quite belligerent. It hasn't done him any favors in the eyes of the judges, which is why I'm doing my best to schmooze... grease the wheels a little.

Master Devlin: Yes, well, he is an alcoholic. No doubt in serious withdrawal at this point.

Master Devlin: So where is he now?

Travers: Not sure. I expect he might be waiting around the court buildings. Like the other accused men.

Master Devlin: Where's that?

Travers: I'm not supposed to say.

Master Devlin: TRAVERS!

The Master snaps, his rage peaking, his face turning red as he clenches his fists. For a moment, it looks like he's about to explode... then, in an instant, his expression blankens, his body stiffens, and his eyes glaze over. His anger fizzles into a sudden, empty stare.

Travers: (sighing) Fine... But you should know, this is no normal court building, Master Devlin. There's a cobbler. Has a shop at 16 Franz Avenue in Widdicombe. Go in and ask for Dave. He'll lead you where you need to go... Master Devlin? Hello?

Travers pauses, glancing at the Master’s vacant expression.

Travers: Oh dear... Kyle!

The door opens, and Mr. Konrad steps inside, looking unfazed as ever.

Konrad: Yes, Mr. Travers?

Travers: Have the boys take Master Devlin home. We're done here.

Mr. Konrad nods, stepping toward the door and summoning in Mr. Boothe and Mr. Raymond, who enter, ready to escort Master Devlin.

Mr. Boothe Right then, Master Devlin, let's get you on the road, shall we?

He wheels the Master slowly, but his face scrunches as a sudden, unpleasant scent hits his nose.

Mr. Boothe: (shocked) Oh goodness gracious... Mr. Konrad! He's gone and soiled himself, he has!

Mr. Konrad: (glancing over with mild indifference) Oh dear. Well, just get him home quickly.

Mr. Raymond: (grumbling) Disgusting...

The three proceed to wheel Master Devlin out of the office, all of them clearly disturbed by his condition, but none of them breaking stride in their businesslike manner.

****

The Master begins to come out of his latest fugue just as he is being wheeled into his dorm room.

Mr. Boothe: Here you are, Master Devlin. Back in your comfy quarters.

Master Devlin: Get your hands off me!

Mr. Boothe: Now, now, Master Devlin, there’s no need to be like that. We didn’t mean you any disrespect. You had another one of your episodes, y’see.

Master Devlin: I don’t care. You may go!

Mr. Boothe: Very well, sir. Come, Mr. Raymond.

Master Devlin: Send Mr. Waldo here.

Mr. Boothe: Who?

Master Devlin: Never mind... Actually, take me back to Travers.

Mr. Raymond: Are you trying to be funny?

Mr. Boothe: Now, see here, Master—

Master Devlin: SILENCE! Do as I say.

Mr. Raymond: Thing is, we don’t work for you…

Master Devlin: Very well. I’ll go myself.

Mr. Boothe: Know the way, do you?

Master Devlin: Of course.

Mr. Boothe: I doubt that, sir. You were in a coma the whole way there, and then back again.

Master Devlin: Whatever. I can just say a bunch of things out loud, and Travers will come running to tell me I’m speaking out of turn.

Mr. Boothe: Ah, but he has the robot to think of now, see. Can’t just show up willy-nilly like. Not no more…

Mr. Raymond: What do you want with the guv, anyway? ’E’s a busy man.

Master Devlin: Your boss is a fraud, and I wish to tear off his moustache.

Mr. Raymond: That sounds like assault, don’t it, Mr. Boothe?

Mr. Boothe: Indeed it does, Mr. Raymond. Mr. Travers is a great man. A national treasure, sir! Why would you say he’s a fraud?

Master Devlin: It would be easier if you just take me to him and I can show you.

Mr. Boothe: This is all beyond our station, sir. We are but humble delivery men. But I tell you what—I’ll give Mr. Konrad a ring and see if Mr Travers will consent to another meeting, eh?

Master Devlin: Fine. Go ahead.

Mr. Boothe pulls out a mobile telephone and dials. He talks to Mr. Konrad for a few moments before shaking his head and speaking to the Master again.

Mr. Boothe: I’m afraid Mr. Travers has already left the office for the evening. If you like, we can pencil you in for another appointment. I’m afraid Mr. Konrad says it will be in two weeks at the soonest.

Master Devlin: No. Just forget it. Mr. Boothe passes on the message to Konrad and ends the call.

Mr. Boothe: Well, sir, we will take our leave then. Good night!

Master Devlin: Hrmmph. Yes, yes… Good night…

The story continues in The Court Summons