THE LAWYER'S CONTRACT

The man stood there in the doorway, a slight smile on his face. He seemed amused with the situation. He was tall, thin, the corpse-like pallor of his skin in stark contrast with his dark clothes and dark hair – he seemed to exude an aura of darkness. A touch of beard, and a slight hint of sulphur in the air. Dark-tinted glasses at the end of his nose - a glimpse of pale reptilian eyes over the top of the lenses.

‘Are you my contact?’ asked Ericsson.

‘Could be,’ replied the stranger. ‘Are you Ericsson?’

‘That’s right. Your name?’

‘Not important. It’s better that way, don’t you agree?’

‘Perhaps. Do you have what I asked for?’

The smile increased, now with a hint of contempt. ‘Perhaps. Do you have what I want in return?’

‘I could hardly be here without it, could I?’

‘True, true.’

‘Well, can you give me what I want?’

‘Perhaps.’ The smile had turned into a broad grin. ‘With the usual caveats.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know. A bargain with me – with us – needs to be very specific. We are past masters at interpreting contracts to please ourselves, not those we contract with. It may turn out very differently from what you expect. My Master is, after all, known as the Father of Lies.’

‘I don’t care. I’m a lawyer – I can write my own unbreakable contract – I defy anybody to find a way around it.’

‘You’re a lawyer? How come we don’t have you already?’

‘I keep my nose clean. Defence only, and only if I really believe the defendant is innocent.’

‘But your intention is to do something that will give you to us. I’m a bit surprised. I’d have thought that would have made you ours automatically.’

‘You have to remember I’m a lawyer. I know the wording of these things, and I’m good at finding loopholes.’

‘Evidently. I begin to have a little more respect for you. You’re not just the usual Faust-wannabe. You’ve thought this through.’

The other man smirked at the compliment – for a moment - then his smile faded. He was not so sure that this was really a compliment. Or was it simply a ploy to lead him into underestimating his opposite number?

‘So, can you give me what I want? The only answer you’ve given me so far is perhaps. Not good enough, considering what I’m giving in return.’

‘You’ve already written out your contract?’

‘Yes. Here it is. Have a look at it if you like. See if there’s any way you could break it or pervert it so I don’t get what I want.’

‘Do you really expect me to tell you if I do? That’s really not the way we operate where I come from.’

‘No, I suppose not. Unless you want to make the game a little more interesting.’

‘Oh, it’s already interesting. Particularly considering what your side of the contract will be. Eternity is a long time and we are quite inventive. We’ve had a long time to perfect our ideas – and our equipment.’

‘Well, given my profession, I probably would have had that anyway. If I hadn’t kept my nose clean. So I don’t have much to lose, do I?’

‘Hmm. Matter of opinion. But I’ll have a look at your contract if I may.’ He stood for quite a while, looking over the paper, occasionally flipping one of the flimsy pages, occasionally making a sotto voce comment to himself.

‘Well, you certainly seem to have thought it out very carefully. It might even work out. But you must remember we have just about every lawyer that ever lived on our team. If the thing can be broken, we’ll break it. You can depend on that.’

He smiled, his thin lips opening slightly to give a glimpse of the tips of his canine teeth – rather longer and sharper than expected. ‘But I don’t see why I should be telling you all this. It’s hardly in my job description, is it? But somehow, I find myself admiring your absolute gall. I almost hope we don’t manage to break the contract.’ He smiled again, more broadly, showing that all his teeth were sharp.

‘Well, shall we get on with it? Are you ready to sign?’

‘Yes. Do you require blood?’

‘Of course. It’s traditional, I’m afraid. Not legal without being signed in your own blood.’

‘I have a small pocket-knife. It’s very sharp. I’m just a bit concerned the blade might not be completely sterile – it’s been in my pocket for awhile.’

‘Oh, blood poisoning is going to be the least of your worries, I can assure you. At least in the long term. Though it might be an interesting addition to the torment. I think I’ll make a note of that for our people.’ The smile was so broad now that Ericsson was reminded of old cartoon pictures of Batman’s enemy, the Joker.

‘So do you sign as well?’

‘Oh, yes. But in my circumstances, blood doesn’t seem appropriate, does it? Not having any, and all. But I’ll use the traditional methods we always use. The contract will be binding, you can be sure of that.’

‘Well, no point in delaying,’ said Ericsson. ‘Here goes.’ And he slit his skin with the knife, causing the blood to flow. The other handed him the pen and he carefully wrote his signature on the contract. When he looked up, he was surprised to see the other was looking away.

‘Sorry. I hate the sight of blood. Not what you’d expect in my profession, but there it is. Are you going to put a band-aid or something on that? It’s giving me the shivers.’

‘Sorry. Yes.’ Ericsson took a dressing from his pocket, opened and placed it on the wound. ‘That better?’

The other shuddered a bit. ‘Yes. Thank you. The others laugh at me about it, but you can’t help the way you’re made, can you?’

‘No, I suppose not. What happens now?’

‘My signature.' A thin flame came from his index finger, forming a charred line on the paper. Ericsson could see the beginning of the name - Azath . . . before the paper was taken away.

‘And now? Do I get what I want straight away?’

‘Oh, no. I have to take it to our legal people. But it doesn’t take long. Time is, after all meaningless where I come from.’ He turned, there was a flash of light and he was back.

‘Well, that all seems to be in order. You’ll get what you want. And an eternity of pain afterwards. I hope it’s worth it.’

‘Um . . . did you look at the small print?’

Yes, of course.’ He looked baffled for a moment. ‘What small print? I don’t remember any in what you showed me!’

‘Oh, it was very small. Microscopic, in fact. But I’m sure one of your abilities should be able to read it if you try. It’s in a microdot just above the signatures. The last dot in the last sentence.’

‘One moment. Let me look.’ He peered carefully at the document, then looked up. ‘Oh. Well. My congratulations. You get everything you want, and no penalty. You’re cleverer than I thought. Let me shake you by the hand. This creates a precedent. We’ll have to re-write the rules for future contracts. Nicely done.’

He extended his hand – long sharp fingernails, almost claws. Ericsson clasped it in his own, then went to let go.

‘Oh, no. Not so fast. I told you we had just about every lawyer who’s ever lived on our team, didn’t I? Had it occurred to you that one of them just might have tried this trick before? You’re ours, friend. Starting now!’

‘But what about getting what I want?’

‘Oh, didn’t I mention that? No, our people found a loophole, so no – no world domination, no most beautiful woman in the world, no untold riches.’

‘But you said . . .’

‘Oh yes. I lied. We do that, you know. Now you come with me.’

His hands became thicker, stronger, rugged and hard, his expensive stylish suit jacket split down the back, exposing a ridged backbone and leathery wings, claws at the ends, his ripped trousers showing thick, fibrous leg muscles. His wings flapped as he rose into the air, still holding Ericsson, now hanging by one wrist.

Over Ericsson’s screaming as they flew away could be heard the voice of Azathrael, Duke of Hell. ‘But it was the most fascinating negotiation I’ve had in some centuries. I’ll tell the boys to give you special treatment. You're going to have a very interesting eternity.’