"Be silent, vice-minister. I do not need foreign experts to tell me who
is the scoundrel - you or the Earthman! And if you dare show your tape even
to a frog in a road ditch, you will lose more than Assalah!"
Bemish picked the paper sheet with a lifeless hand, glanced at it and
noticed with astonishment that the order was dated with yesterday's date.
The papers asserted that Shavash had been fired before he signed the
contract with IC.
Pale with spite, Shavash silently stood up and left the room.
"Could you, kindly, leave me, gentlemen," the sovereign said smiling
sadly. "You tired me out. Kissur, visit me tomorrow morning."
X X X
Bemish was too shocked to think coherently. Having departed the
pavilion, he dragged himself to a rocky pond, where white-bellied seals
splashed, and slumped on a flower hill, probably breaking all the etiquette
rules. The question was - what should he do next? Next, Terence Bemish, the
Assalah state company director, will sell this company to Terence Bemish,
the ADO director. Dammit, Assalah has to be sold to ADO so that
intergalactic, instead of Weian, securities land on the market... What will
the business ethics committee say? Having watching the tape... A shadow
stood above his shoulder and Kissur slumped on the grass nearby.
"It's very clear," Kissur said, "that you haven't smelled shit. They
used to say that I had fish scales on my sides and my ears grew together at
the back of my head - big deal, a spliced tape."
"He was ready to submit the tape to any examination," Bemish said. "He
was not bluffing. Do you understand what it means? Where did he get the
hardware to bake a forgery that can withstand any examination? Do you
understand that this hardware was not acquired for a single usage, that this
hardware was not acquired for me, it was acquired for you, for Yanik, for
the other local officials..."
"Well," Kissur said, "we need to wash this deal down. Let's go to a
pub."
And they went to a pub.
X X X
It was dark when they left the pub, and large constellation bundles
shone in the sky faded like an old watercolor, so alien to Bemish, and a man
in a summer silk suit and white jacket dallied leaning on a long car shaped
like a water droplet.
"I will give Mr. Bemish a ride," the silky man said. He raised his head
and Bemish recognized the small official.
They sat silently on the back seat. The car started. Shavash dug a fat
package from under his feet and handed it over to Bemish.
"What is it?" Bemish said.
"This is the company documentation. You have seen most of it, new
director. This is the original tape; you can throw it in a brazier tonight."
And the small official handed the laser disk box to Bemish.
"Are you sure that it's really documentation," Bemish inquired, "and
not a remotely controlled bomb, two hundred thousand in Gera currency or a
drug load I will be arrested tonight for possession?"
The small official was silent.
"Damn you," Bemish said, "if, perchance, your Emperor had woken up in a
different mood today, I could have been hanged for real. I should hate you
for your tricks."
"And I should hate you."
"Me?"
"All of you, Earthmen."
"Why? What have we done to you?"
"What? Do you know what it means to be an official of the Empire that
owns the world, and suddenly this Empire appears to be a pebble on a beach,
crummy and penniless as well?"
"We, at least, left you free," Bemish noted, "but would you, Mr.
Shavash, like this country to be occupied by another empire and you being
turned into a slave who rubs his owner's back?"
"That's exactly right. You left us free. If I became a slave and rubbed
my owner's back, I would be a headman there in two years and I would be
manumitted and appointed to a minister position in two more years. But you
left us free and I can become the first minister on Weia with no problem
but, you have to agree, that even if I emigrate - what is the chance of me
becoming a Federation Assembly member?"
Bemish gaped. He had not met yet such an interpretation of the
fatherland independence concept. They drove in silence.
Parting with Bemish at the hotel cabin gate, Shavash suddenly grinned.
"You have a guest, don't you? I will not hinder your meeting."
Indeed, a white like goose down Volvo dallied next to trimmed bushes
and a man with a colorless face dressed in a cream colored suit - Richard
Giles - walked back and forth the terrace. Bemish drew himself together.
"Good day," Giles rendered, "I have been waiting for you for three
hours."
"Why did you come around?"
"I came," Giles said smiling, "to offer you a job in our company."
"Why is that?"
"Why not? We have a history of several projects that were carried out
quite successfully..."
"You are nuts," Bemish said, "three blown soap bubbles in countries
kicked out of UN..."
"Oh-oh," Giles interrupted him, "Nika and Sadun have joined UN a while
ago and the Lakhar situation has started to improve recently..."
"But at the time you were there, they were not UN members yet."
"Exactly," Giles said. "When we came here, they had nutcase governments
in charge. That's why I am saying, 'successfully carried out projects', in
spite of their evident financial bust."
"What do you do?"
Giles silently pulled a plastic card out of his pocket and handed it to
Bemish. It was an ID of a senior Federal Intelligence and
Counterintelligence Bureau officer.
"I can't believe it," Bemish said. "I had no clue that our spies made
billions on fake stocks. And afterwards they collect taxes from us for
democracy development!"
"Yes," Giles agreed. "We usually offer not exactly reputable financial
projects to our partners in the government of the country that makes us
nervous. And these officials, having pocketed several millions, find out
that if they want to have more millions and not to have a scandal, they
should push certain political decisions through."
"Why does this country make you nervous?"
"Weia? This country doesn't make anybody nervous. This country, Mr.
Bemish, is now located in the Galaxy backyard and it will be there for
another two hundred years... Whatever political adventures happen here, they
will not cause problems for anybody except the Weians themselves. It's Gera
that makes us nervous."
"Gera?"
"Yeah. Weia is located halfway between Gera and the Federation planets.
It is a strategically important Galaxy location - an ideal base for the
defense forces - and if it gets to a war between Gera and the Federation, it
would be better if..."
"If the war happened around a corrupted planet in the Galaxy's
backyard," Bemish completed.
Giles nodded.
"And how are you going to transform a financial gamble in a military
base?"
"Like a charm. We buy the company, we build as many bases as we can, we
do the construction behind barbed wire, we do not publish financial reports
and we arrange a leak claiming that the barbed wire is caused by the total
absence of any construction. The company's shares plummet; the defense
committee buys all the securities and announces that it has a military base
for a scrap of the price. "
"Are you serious?"
"Come on! You can build a business center on this planet calling it a
garbage processing facility. You can make narcotics using tax breaks
reserved for the production of medical drugs! A military spaceport instead
of a civil one - is nothing by local standards!"
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You upset our plans and became the company director. Now you are going
to build the base."
"Will you leave on your own," Bemish inquired, "or should I throw you
over the rails?"
"Don't you want to help your own country?"
"You are out of your mind," Bemish said. "You wanted to drown me in
shit! You made this mucky tape - now I understand why Shavash assured us it
would withstand any examination - and when they sent you to hell, you have a
gall to come to me with this talk."
"That's your personal aggravation. What about the good of the country?"
"The good of the country!" the raider exploded. "The good of the
country is when the state doesn't stick its nose in corporate business! I
guarantee you that, in half an hour, I will find in your project five
incorrect decisions and ten less-than-optimal ones! I haven't seen a state
project that was less than three times pricier than a private one! Why?
Because, the more expensive the project is, the more important the official
in charge of it feels! You can't save a penny and here you are, discussing
the good of the country. Save money on this construction and this will be
for the good of the country!"
"Is that all?" Giles queried.
"No, that's not all! This is only economics. As for the rest, what you
call "preventive actions" is what actually starts wars. You say, "We don't
want to fight but we should be able to defend ourselves!" Gerans say, "We
don't want to fight but they built a military base right under our nose!"
Before five years pass, both sides will be armed to their teeth, the taxes
that you collected from me will turn to vapor, and you'll raise your hands
on TV screens and catechize, "The Gerans wouldn't be so impudent if we
invested five billion more in defense!" And the citizens squawk and give you
five more billion!"
Having heard this, Giles, instead of leaving, sat in a low armchair,
trimmed to the floor with feathers, leaned all the way back and asked.
"So, do you think that there is no difference between the democracy
officials and the Weian ones?"
"There is a difference," Bemish said. "Here, the state is set up in
such a way that the officials' pickings go directly to their pockets.
Democracy doesn't give you this opportunity. You, however, have an
opportunity to push through the projects that will require tripling the
taxes I pay but will also enlarge your departments and demonstrate your
importance. If you simply embezzled, it would cause less harm."
"So, you won't work on our project."
"No. If Gera is dangerous, try to push this project through congress."
"One month before your arrival," Giles said imperturbably, "I talked to
Mr. Shavash. I found out that we could pay the state a billion and a half,
get the permit and build the military base ourselves. We could also pay the
state a billion and a half, get the permit and build the civil spaceport. We
could also pay seven million not to the state but rather to Shavash, and
then the state will take care of the above mentioned construction. A dummy
front company would get the spaceport, both sides would share the expenses
and, if the reporters on Gera or Earth ferreted out anything about the
construction, Earth would have nothing to do with it - see, the Weian
officials, known for their ingrained tendency to cheat their own people,
started quietly to make a military base out of a civil spaceport."
"Shavash doesn't believe his motherland is worth much," Bemish
muttered.
"It's even cheaper than you think. Since we found out that if we openly
start building the military base, the Weian people and the sovereign may
have issues with it. They may say for instance that we are clandestinely
occupying the country. Or that we are making Weia a pawn in a big game - if
the war with Gera starts, Weia will be attacked first as the closest to Gera
Federation military base. If however Weia was in charge of the spaceport
construction, all these issues would not arise."
"And did you," Bemish uttered through his teeth, "decide to save
money?"
"It's not the question of saving money. As you acutely remarked, the
state unlike private companies doesn't really care about savings. But you
know perfectly well that while the President has minority in the Assembly,
we will never obtain funding for one more military base - that's one
problem. All the peace lovers, free ones and the ones on Gera payroll, will
raise their hands with banners to the sky and take it to the streets to get
on the evening news - that's the second problem. The base is twice more
important if it's kept under wraps - that's the third problem."
Bemish was silent. Somehow the whole thing seemed especially
disgusting. Yes, everybody around traded in the sovereign's name, but, in
the end, it was the private agents and companies that gave bribes on Weia.
But, for a bribe and such a huge bribe to be given by the Federation of
Nineteen... Has it happened because parliament wouldn't approve of this
project?
"Out of this money," Giles said, "one half has already been paid and
quite a number of classified documents are in Shavash's hands. If Shavash
doesn't get the second half, to squeeze some profit he will find a way to
sell the papers to Gera. It won't hurt Shavash - such deeds are considered
to be valiant on Weia - but what a scandal will burst in the Federation."
Bemish could easily imagine this, jumbo titles everywhere.
"Bribes instead of bread!", "A little bit of war", "We are controlled
by the Intelligence Service."
"Shavash," Bemish said, "will not get what he deserves, because he is
an Empire official, and you will get everything you deserve because you are
democracy officials. If you have to build a base, you should be able to
explain it to the people. If you can't explain it to the people, than you
are lying about the construction being necessary. If the President considers
that he can't make certain things public but he has to do them, he should
change his occupation immediately. Why didn't you raise the question about
the base in public?"
"Because everybody thinks the way you do," Giles shrugged his
shoulders.
"Because nobody looks beyond his personal profit and, once the
government endeavors to do something about the common good, they all get
nervous about raising the taxes! Because thanks to the idiots like you,
Gera, while lagging great distance behind us economically, has already
surpassed us militarily."
"Get out."
"Not before we shake hands on it," the spy said, lying in the armchair.
The next moment, Bemish jerked him out of the armchair with one hand
and socked him on the jaw with all his heart. The punch was strong enough
for the Federation agent to flip over the armchair and to the floor. He
however somersaulted over his head, bounced softly in a fighting stance and
hissed.
"You are Geran slut."
Thence Giles attempted to land a right hand punch on Bemish's temple.
He shouldn't have done it. The bungling spy's hand was blocked and twisted
and Giles squeaked piteously and dropped on his knees facing away from
Bemish. He couldn't move - his hand would break.
"Your training isn't any good," Bemish commented, "if a financier can
wipe your mug!"
"I will wipe your mug; I will jail you for illegal parking for five
years... Ouch..."
At this moment, Kissur showed up on the terrace - behind their yells,
Bemish and Giles didn't even hear the rustle that the car made entering the
gate. Bemish freed the spy's wrist. Giles hissed something through his
teeth, picked the folder off the table, locked it in his black case and
said.
"I am sorry, but I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow noon as agreed,
Mr. Bemish."
"Did I get in your way?" Kissur inquired, looking over the recent
discussion participants with curiosity.
"Not at all," Giles said, "sorry, I am in hurry. I will not take your
time, Mr. Kissur."
He fixed the collar torn by Bemish and disappeared. The next moment, a
flyer whistled taking off in the backyard.
Bemish was chewing on his lips and tapping on a twined rail pole.
"Where have I seen his mug?" Kissur said. "Oh, yes, he was also at the
sovereign's. This is the jerk that bribed Shavash so that nobody except his
company could get the spaceport concession. IC. Yes, IC Company. What did he
want?"
Bemish paused.
"He let me know that the contract will be sabotaged. You know, the
workers will go on a strike, the officials will support the workers..."
"You don't have to tell me," Kissur said. "I know how it happens. I was
the first minister myself. What are you gonna do now?"
At this point, an idea came to Bemish's mind, simple and evident like a
soft beverage commercial. "I'll leave. I'll drop it all and leave. If
somebody has to be a bastard, at least, it won't be me. Let it be the day of
farewell."
"Let's go riding," Bemish said. They trotted for a while down yellow
roads amidst blue fields and they tied the horses afterwards and had a bare
knuckle fistfight and swam in a pond, round and green like a bottle bottom.
Bemish rode back, tired and reticent, looking at the road, with the
palm trees planted along it, and a fair spread beneath the white wall of a
capital suburb. The day was hot, the clouds boiled away, the sun bubbled
like an egg yolk on a frying pan. Kissur kept glancing at his friend.
Somebody really upset the Earthman. They had let him know that they would
foul the contract up. Well, construction is different from a duel. You can
go to a duel uncaring whether you win or die. You can't work on
construction, understanding that you will not obtain any profit. He will
leave. It's too bad. Kissur suddenly realized that he became attached to
this man. He lied much less than the local officials and he had some honesty
inside in spite of his occupation that didn't encourage honor.
"What was this parking thing that Giles was going to jail you for?"
Kissur asked suddenly.
"It's not here. It's on Earth," Bemish replied mechanically.
"No way!" Kissur was astonished. "Where did you park your auto to get
five years in prison? Did you drive on the Federation Assembly roof?"
Bemish wanted to explain that it wasn't about parking but Kissur
continued.
"What kind of laws are you guys making? They fine their citizens for
spitting on the streets and allow Gera more than we allow our bandits!
Though we, I have to admit, allow our bandits a lot."
"What has Gera got to do with this?" Bemish exclaimed in anger.
"Well, while you feed the homeless and make laws that protect green
parrot species from getting extinct, they finance military programs and they
will conquer you in five years! Even a donkey would get that, so I can."
"They won't conquer us," Bemish objected, "we are more powerful."
"You are not more powerful," Kissur said, "you are richer. The history
has it that the rich, but lacking in spirit, countries get conquered by the
poor and warlike countries. See, wealth makes a country stuffed and lazy
like a fat ram while poverty makes it sinewy and greedy like a wolf."
"In this case, Gera will conquer you first - you are weaker."
"Why would they conquer us? Nobody needs us even free of charge. Wolves
feed on sheep, not on northern moss."
Bemish puffed up and kept silence. It was nonsense. Barbarians have
indeed gobbled empires up because their citizens were lazier than the
barbarians while barbarian weapons were not any worse. While Gera - damn it,
Gera's weapons may be the same... Still, the analogy is stupid. History
doesn't gallop in a circle anymore. It's funny that the Federation
Intelligence thinks along the same lines as an educated barbarian...
They parted by midnight and Kissur returned to his palace. He sat in a
hall for a long while and, then, he called a servant to arrange a
sacrificial basket and walked to a small room, adjoining his bedroom, where
an Arfarra memorial altar stood. In front of the altar, a candle burned
fixed atop a tortoise shield and a fresh pine branch floated in a silver
water bowl. Kissur kneeled in front of the altar and sipped a bit from the
bowl.
"Arfarra," he said quietly, "what should I do? My gods are silent. They
have been silent for seven years. You had been next to me before that. You
made decisions for me everywhere except war and I was free at war because
there is nobody between a warrior and god. Can't I do anything for my
country or can I only muck things up? Send me somebody! I have nobody. What
are these Earthmen? The best of their best have credit cards, where their
hearts should be, and the others are god knows what! Khanadar is like a
goldfinch, who can only sing silly songs, and this man, Nan, that I could
ask for an advice, would advise me to break my neck because it will be most
useful for the country and most pleasing for Nan."
Kissur prayed like this for a while and called Arfarra. Suddenly he
felt a draught coming from the door. Kissur froze. The door slowly opened
and somebody's shadow stretched at the doorstep
"Great Wei!" Kissur cried out jumping on his feet and turning around.
"Oh, it's you."
The Earthman stood in the door frame - Terence Bemish.
"Have you been waiting for somebody?" Bemish was concerned. Kissur
looked at the altar with his head bowed.
"No," Kissur responded, "he will hardly come."
Bemish sat in the armchair.
"You were right, Kissur," he said. "IC did give Shavash six million
dollars for this contract. But it was not IC money. This money belonged to
Federation Intelligence. IC is just a front. They wanted to cram the
spaceport with surveillance hardware and then with military equipment. They
want to watch Gera first, and then..."
"But then Weia," Kissur said, "will become an Earth's military ally."
"It will become a military ally for those who don't want to fight. And
when it all comes out, Weia will become a target for Gera and the
Federation, the first point to attack in the case of war!"
"A military ally," Kissur repeated. His eyes lit, he looked over Bemish
to the altar.
"Don't sprout crap!" Bemish cried out. "If Gera is not going to fight,
why would the Federation need military allies? And if it is - imagine what
your planet will be turned into. You will be the grass that elephants
trample as they fight! Your planet's destruction will be, of course, a great
rallying cry for the Earth's people indignation - Earth will wake up at your
expense."
"Military ally," Kissur repeated for the third time. And he laughed.
"And did Shavash charge your government six million for such a gift?"
"And so they wanted to cover me in mud with this tape - you understand,
Kissur, it was our Intelligence that made the tape for Shavash - and after
that they have the gall to come to me and offer me a dance at their tune!"
"I hope you said, yes."
"I refused. I make money out of air but not out of shit."
At this moment, the door squeaked again and Shavash entered the room.
"Just as I thought," he declared, taking a look at disheveled enraged
Bemish and Kissur, coldly baring his teeth at the altar.
Kissur approached Shavash, embraced and kissed him.
"I am sorry," he said.
Shavash gently freed himself from his embrace and turned to the
Earthman.
"So? Has Kissur persuaded you yet?"
"No," Bemish shouted, "you are both blockheads! You, Shavash, are ready
to sell you motherland for a fried chicken and, when this guy hears the word
"war" he's jumping out of his pants with joy."
"I...," Shavash started with dignity.
Bemish threw the folder at him.
You can have it! The contract is here. I am leaving for Earth.
Shavash picked up scattered papers and suddenly he gawked at them
fixedly. His eyes gaped wide in astonishment and his face assumed such an
astounded look that Bemish couldn't help but ask.
"What are you reading there?"
"Tomorrow newspapers," Shavash said sweetly, "it's written here that
the zealots from the Marked by the Sky sect killed Terence P. Bemish who had
been appointed by the sovereign to the Assalah construction director
position. Or... no, not Marked by The Sky but Following the Way. Yes, of
course! This sect has a branch next to Assalah and they also learned of the
dishonest ways that Bemish used to obtain the shares... These ways will of
course be published, too..."
"How dare you?"
"Mr. Bemish! I dared much more than that. And I saved you from a
certain death twice when Giles was ready to pay for your head! If the
zealots kill you, it will cause wide spread abhorrence. If you suddenly
decline the sovereign's appointment, it will cause a lot of false rumors and
your silence is not guaranteed."
"He doesn't look like a man who will keep silent," Kissur said.
Bemish came to the table where a phone was, picked up the receiver and
dialed a number.
"Is it Ravadan? When is the next Earth passenger flight? Is it in
twenty hours? No I don't want a stopover. Yes, I would like to buy two
tickets, please. Terence Bemish... hmm... Inis Bemish. Yes, damn it, your
Weian name - Inis. No, just one way, I don't need round trip tickets.
During the conversation, Shavash was whispering something at Kissur's
ear. Bemish finished the phone call, pulled a table drawer out and took out
Kissur's small laser that he knew Kissur tended to keep there. He stuck the
gun under his belt and left.
Kissur rose to follow him but Shavash grabbed him by his hand.
"Don't do it - let everybody see that he left this house alive and
unhurt."
X X X
At the night's wane Bemish appeared at the finance vice-minister's
mansion. The small official sat in the office sleepily checking some
numbers.
"Why didn't you take off?" Shavash asked.
"Why didn't you kill me?" Bemish snapped back.
He sat in an armchair on bird legs and said.
"I agree on one condition."
The official raised his eyebrows.
Bemish silently handed him a paper sheet. Shavash looked the text over
- it was an act abolishing ishevik bills of credit."
"Do you understand," Shavash said, "that without ishevik bills we would
spend three times more in subsidies?"
"Why don't you abolish subsidies together with ishevik bills."
Shavash grinned.
"Do you know how much money you, Terence Bemish, could make on it?"
"I would make nothing. I would make this money for one, two, three
years. Then, the Galactic Bank, where like in any other large company where
only idiots are employed, will finally realize that ishevik bills are pseudo
money printed personally by Mr. Shavash, all this shit will turn to
hyperinflation, your insurance rating will keel over and I will lose five
times more on my stocks than I'll steal on ishevik bills.
Shavash raised his eyebrows just a bit.
People like you, Mr. Bemish, used to come to a bad end in the old
times. They handed the sovereign reports about the importance of integrity
and..."
"And they had their heads cut off," Bemish grinned.
"Yes, sometimes they had their heads cut off. And sometimes the
sovereign would turn his ear towards their reports and they started to cut
the other people's heads off."
The Seventh Chapter
Where all investors' difficulties are solved in the best way.
The full transfer didn't take much time - less than five days.
Everything worked out in the end. Bemish became the Assalah president and
CEO. Richard Giles, who believe it or not had resigned from IC, became the
first vice-president. Shavash kept his appointment at the Board of
Directors.
Trevis, naturally, started financing the whole project again. The
financing layout developed by Bemish was not changed. 51% of the company,
meaning the whole state stock block, was sold by the Assalah company
director Terence Bemish to the ADO director Terence Bemish and the observers
commented acidly that the shares were sold at not such a high price. The
same day, Ronald Trevis sent out a note that his bank assured - it would be
possible to raise the money necessary for the investment through ADO bonds.
In a month, ADO issued junk bonds for two million dinars that made up the
first-round financing and big-league investors fought for the bonds like
starving hyenas.
The second-round financing was made of convertible bonds. These bonds
had 8% coupons and could be converted in stocks within one year at the
present stock face value. This operation promised to be incredibly
profitable - if everything worked out, the Assalah stock price could
increase hundred fold. Even technically, the stocks were available only to a
very small investors' circle - to those who were allowed to invest money in
the derivatives of, accordingly to the Galaxy business world virtuous choice
of words, "the third reliability category markets." Bemish, Trevis and
Shavash narrowed this circle down even more, having sold the bonds mostly to
the people they needed.
Additionally, there were warrants - the stock warrants acquired at
three dinars per warrant. In two years, they enabled the buyer to acquire
Assalah stocks at their present cost. In the worst case, the buyer would
lose three dinars, in the best he would acquire a share at a price hundreds
times less than the current one. The project, submitted to the sovereign,
pointed out that warrants were needed to encourage the biggest investors,
necessary to attract their attention to a remote and dangerous market.
Mudslingers claimed that 50% of the warrants ware shared among Shavash,
Trevis and Bemish. The mudslingers were wrong. These three shared 75% of the
warrants.
The relationship between Bemish and the state proved to be mutually
profitable. For instance, it was great to have a spaceport, of course, but
how would you pass the loads and passengers further? The highway from
Assalah to the capital was built in sovereign Irshahchan times, and though
in sovereign Irshahchan times it was a miraculous highway enabling
government informers to reach Assalah in two days and the troops, sent to
pacify the rebels, in four days, it didn't really satisfy contemporary
requirements. From the north - from Liss, the region promising to become one
of the Galaxy's largest mining areas - a modern highway stretched. But it
was cut off forty kilometers away from the spaceport by Orkh River, one of
the largest rivers in the Empire. These forty kilometers also needed to be
connected somehow.
Bemish spent this month delivering popular presentations at all the
Federation financial centers. Two air flights a day and three space flights
a week were normal for the new director and his team. The success thundered.
Really, junk bonds and developing markets seemed to be created for each
other. A fringe market company acquired by a small Federation company that
had passed Galaxy exchange listing; and this company later financed the
production issuing junk bonds - it was beautiful. It was bold.
Neither Kissur nor Shavash attended the presentations. Kissur could
frighten a Swiss mutual fond representative or a London insurer to death
with his escapades. Shavash's position - a finance vice-minister of some
dinky empire, or even the first vice-minister - wouldn't mean much for an
uninformed man.
Shavash asked the Empire first minister, Yanik, however, to attend and
the investors rightfully concluded that Bemish had good relations with the
Empire authorities. Shavash also asked an Empire ex-first minister, Nan, or
more precisely, David N. Streighton, to attend.
Having resigned after his adversaries ran a smear campaign - that a man
from the stars shouldn't be in charge of the Empire - Nan resided on Earth
and he didn't try to hide that his Weian appointment made him not just a
millionaire, but a billionaire. His knowledge of Weian current events was
unsurpassed and his active buying of Assalah securities boosted their
trading to a great degree. It is should be pointed out that Nan obtained 20%
of the warrants out of remaining 25%.
The only dark spot blemishing Bemish's triumph was headman Adini's
fate. There was no doubt that he had been the culprit in the trick with the
paintings and that he had acted on Shavash's orders.
When Bemish, Khanadar and Kissur flew to the villa the next day, the
young headman was bustling around there as if nothing had happened. Bemish
was especially surprised that Shavash hadn't even tried to warn his spy,
though he knew perfectly well that Adini wouldn't get out of it unscathed.
Kissur, who had never been noted for exquisite manners, threw Adini to
the floor and kicked him a couple times and, then, having snatched his
throat with one hand and lifted him to the knees with the other, demanded
all of the truth from him, "So that I knew whom to hang on the same log with
you."
Adini blurted everything out and, accordingly to his tale, Shavash and
Giles should have hung on the same log with him.
Having gotten attached to the young headman, Bemish started to ask him
how he, Bemish, had maltreated him and Adini covered with blood, sweat and
tears confessed that, having been young and silly, he had taken part in
palace pilfering a year ago - just a little bit, two Iniss rugs, not
particularly old, were the only things that he had peddled. A powerful gang,
probably connected to Shavash, ratted on the competitor or they decided to
write the stolen stuff off using Adini. Thus, he found himself in Shavash's
personal jail and he was freed only after he had admitted of being guilty in
three hundred million dinars worth of palace thefts.
Bemish ordered Adini to beat it but Kissur snatched the young guy and
said that the cad should be hanged and that to let him go would mean to lose
face. Bemish said that hanging Adini would be like an official, castigated
by his superior, venting his anger at his wife.
Kissur agreed with this argument but he claimed that he would keep
Adini and have some words with him about his pilfering - it's kind of
doubtful that Adini had stolen only two rugs. Bemish agreed and he shouldn't
have - the next morning they found Adini hung on the gate of Shavash's
luxurious mansion.
Everybody thought that the Assalah company director himself had gave
this order and they respected Bemish mightily for adhering to local customs;
Kissur proved to Bemish that it was crystal clear - the guy was rotten all
the way through, complete as a water putrefied nut. Hanged Adini visited
Bemish's dreams for a week or two and then stopped. The painting with the
dragon and the princess Terence, of course, returned to the palace the same
day with apologies.
Five carts and priests dressed in heavy brocade pallias came for the
painting.
X X X
In a month, Bemish arrived at Assalah accompanied by a large retinue of
investors. Shavash organized a brilliant reception for them in a temple
complex located about twenty kilometers away from the spaceport - the Black
Valley.
About two and half thousand years ago, one would have found there a
wonderful Temple of Isii-ratouph, who was depicted then not as a squirrel
but rather as a webbed snake and was considered to be not a woman but a man.
Nothing was left from the old temple besides the huge columns - and right
around here, about a kilometer away, the sacred gardens began with chapels
strewn here and there.
The reception was wonderful. Blooming rhododendrons stood as if dressed
in multihued fur coats, brocade leg and jasmine fragrances rode over the
aroma from the delicacies and tame squirrel-ratouphs with gilded tails
jumped amidst the invited guests. Assuming a certain ignorance of Weian
history, the dishes served to the guests could be taken for the exact copy
of the delicacies present here ten years ago at the province governor's
appointment celebration.
The guests were served with a wondrous lamb, just lanced and grilled
for a god (the gods were fed smells and the guests would be fed meat) and
Shavash stood and made a short speech. Shavash said that he was happy to
inform the guests that the territory belonging to the company had obtained
immunity by a sovereign's bill - it was now exempt from the local officials'
jurisdiction and the company had revenue and judicial rights within its
territory.
"However," Shavash immediately reassured, "the company won't really
have to pay taxes since the sovereign's bill gives it extensive tax deferral
for the next two years.
Once the dumbfounded guests had digested the pleasant news, that
somewhat compromised the state sovereignty in the company's favor, Shavash
continued that poor communications was one of the main Assalah drawbacks,
considered at the examination of the project - the direct highway to the
capital had been built in sovereign Irshahchan times and the road to the
rich Liss region was cut off forty kilometers away from Assalah by the
second largest Empire river. Shavash was happy to inform the guests that the
state had already allocated funds for the road and the bridge construction.
Why, would you think though, should the government bustle about? If
Assalah needs it, let Assalah build it, Assalah has loads of dough, why
would you spend budget money in a starving country?
Large investors are an intelligent crowd and they all took a note of
Shavash's part at the presentation and the very polite attitude displayed by
the first minister Yanik towards him. Five people or so asked Bemish if he
was going to limit himself to Assalah or to create a Weian stocks investment
fund.
After Shavash's speech, Trevis, having met Shavash in person for the
first time, approached him trying to clarify the tax referral situation.
Shavash, however, avoided a direct answer.
"Don't worry, either way this company will not pay taxes," he said
imperturbably.
Here, a cute girl appeared in front of Trevis, the girl held a silver
tray, of ram grilled with plants and roots, in her hands. The girl bowed and
sang that an ancient custom commanded to meet a guest with a black
sacrificial ram.
Trevis took a piece with pleasure.
"A great custom," he noted, trying tender meat out, "so coming back to
tax exempts..."
"The custom is great," Shavash replied, "but it's not exactly like
this."
Trevis raised his eyebrows.
"The ancient custom says to meet a guest with a grilled black dog," the
official explained.
Trevis almost dropped the plate and, then, he burst in laughter.
"Why doesn't he want to become a first minister?" Trevis asked Bemish,
when Shavash stepped aside.
"The Emperor will never allow it."
"He is an amazing man."
"Yes. Once he expressed his regret about the Earthmen not having
conquered the Empire and enslaved him. He said that by today he would have
been the Earth Emperor's senior trusted personage..."
Trevis grinned.
"I would like to have slaves," he said suddenly, "especially people
like Shavash. Do you have slaves, Bemish?"
Bemish frowned slightly. Adini was his first slave.
"Yes. These three, cleaning up the tables - but I haven't bought them,
I have obtained them as gifts from different people."
"We are investing money in a funky business," Ronald Trevis muttered.
Bemish nodded heedlessly.
"By the way," Trevis said, "when we were driving by your villa, I
noticed a tall peasant standing in the crowd, he was missing his left ear. I
am sure that I saw him next to the hotel in the capital and he was not
dressed as a peasant then, he sat deep inside a Hurricane."
"You are as watchful as usual, Ronald," Bemish said. "He is not a
peasant, he is one of the best known Weian criminals."
"O