financial term dictatorship.
One and a half tons of the equipment (out of the three tons ordered by
Bemish) arrived at the spaceport, and the Earthmen were spending days and
nights there.
On the third day, the precinct head herded the peasants to fix the road
with old concrete blocks so that the new White Villa master could drive his
iron barrel from the villa to the construction site.
The next week Bemish started to search for the missing equipment and
found it at Ravadan spaceport where it had been from the beginning. He had
to go to Ravadan.
Passing by the nearest village, Bemish noticed an unhitched wagon - the
peasants were gathering at the wagon and unloading the planks for the
assembling stage. It seemed to Bemish that the oldster in charge of the
construction was the same oldster, who played a god on the market in the
capital and tore apart the banknotes Bemish gave him.
An inspector in Ravadan claimed that the equipment containers were
emitting gamma radiation (it happened, rarely) and that they had to undergo
an expensive treatment. Bemish silently gave five thousand isheviks to the
inspector and, in half an hour, he was organizing the boxes being loaded in
a rented truck. The containers didn't emit any radiation whatsoever.
The boxes rode to Assalah, while Bemish stayed at the capital for a
reception given in the honor of the sovereign's ancestor, who had slept with
a mermaid three hundred and forty years ago.
There were very few women at the reception and Bemish's heart skipped a
beat when he saw Idari next to a lighted pool. She had a black dress with
sparkles and black shoes on. Two heavy braids entwining her head were held
by a butterfly shaped hairpin, strewn with the pink pearls, and a necklace
of the same pearls encircled her neck. She was talking to Shavash and
another man, unfamiliar to Bemish.
"Here you are, Bemish," Shavash turned around. "Let me introduce you -
the Empire's first minister, Mr. Yanik."
Bemish had been looking at Idari till then; he quickly turned to the
first minister. He was a neat senior man with a head, slightly flattened at
the temples, and grey eyes, more clever than intelligent. He was dressed
accordingly to Galactic fashion. Bemish didn't see anything striking in his
face and he immediately recalled the rumors about Yanik being a temporary
figurehead, a non-entity, put forth to the Emperor, till his patrons
couldn't settle on a compromise; the non-entity stuck to his position,
however, for a longer time, than the patrons had planned.
"Mr. Bemish would like to buy Assalah spaceport," Shavash said.
"Where will the money come from?"
"Mr. Bemish expects to collect the necessary money via the
high-interest bonds, underwritten on the world market by the well known LSV
bank."
At that point, a voice came from behind.
"It would be great, if Mr. Bemish explained where he will find the
money to pay the interest if the spaceport doesn't give two cents in the
first year."
Bemish turned around. Quite a number of people approached Yanik and the
words belonged to Giles.
"Mr. Giles' company," Shavash explained, "is also participating in the
auction,"
"The spaceport's owner," Bemish said, "will jump out of his pants to
find money. What will you do, however, besides buying the shares at one
price and offering them at the market at another? What will prevent you from
washing your hands?"
"That's right," another voice came in. "Your company's reputation is
not the best one."
"Mr. Rusby," Shavash introduced, "is another investment auction
participant."
Bemish and Giles turned around almost simultaneously.
"It's not for you to talk about reputation," Giles cried out.
"Who, exactly, is financing your offer?" Bemish was surprised.
Standing next to Rusby, the Gera envoy inclined his head slightly and
said.
"Several Gera banks support Mr. Rusby."
"Be careful," Giles grinned, "this man cheated the Galaxy investors out
of one and a half billion."
"The Securities Commission cheated them out of one and a half billion,"
Rusby objected. "Nobody can blame me in failing to pay what I promised, in
unsuccessful investments or in a pyramid scheme."
Giles went blue in the face.
"Is it true, Mr. Shavash," he said, "that the man who bankrupted two
hundred thousand investors, is participating in the Assalah auction?"
"Everybody is participating in the auction," the small official said.
"Including a rogue supported by the dictator's money?"
"I am not familiar with a financial term dictatorship," Shavash
replied.
Bemish looked around and noticed another witness of this ruckus -
Khanadar the Dried Date looked at him out of a corner. Bemish quietly came
to him and asked.
"So, how do you like the business world?"
Khanadar grinned.
"Once, twenty years ago," he said, "my comrades and I were coming back
from a not-so-successful trip. We had been going to pillage a town but when
we came in, the town had already been pillaged and the guys, who had
pillaged it, drove us away. We were famished since we didn't eat anything
for days. Even our horses croaked. Finally, we reached the coast and a town,
and the food and the loot in the town. Then, we got friendlier to each other
and began to hug and we had tried to keep a ten step distance, before, - to
avoid being eaten."
"I see. So, the Earthmen resemble you in this trip, before you found
this town."
"Eh, Terence-rey (Khanadar used a respectful Alom postfix.) We only
needed three rolls for a man not to worry about being eaten, but I still
haven't figured out how much an Earthman needs, not to eat another
Earthman."
The officials attended to Bemish extensively and soon the whole villa
was filled by their gifts - Bemish, however, had to make gifts of his own in
return.
Shavash send Bemish a painting as a gift. The painting was done in the
"thousand scales" style with spider web lines drawn on silk; a girl, feeding
from her hand a dragon that stuck its head out of the water, was depicted.
The girl with black hair and eyes, big like olives, resembled Idari and
Bemish hung it right above the table in his office. At their next meeting,
Shavash praised Bemish's taste and said that it was a fifth dynasty
painting, most probably, an excellent copy of a Koinna's masterpiece.
Bemish, somewhat galled that the gift was only a copy, inquired about the
original's location and Shavash, laughing, told him that the original was
stored in the palace and was fated to an eternal confinement, like the
Emperor's wives.
"However," Shavash added with a grin, "they now sell the palace
treasures left and right. I think that nobody reaps as much money as the
custodians of paintings and bowls; at least one third of everything that has
ever been painted and potted in by Eukemen is stored in the palace. Nobody
except the Emperor and the custodian in charge has access to the treasures,
there is absolutely no order there - steal as much as you want."
The headman heard this conversation and, arching his body in the usual
way, told Bemish that a far relative of his worked in the palace and would
love to meet the Earthman.
Bemish met him. The far relative appeared to be a small red nosed
official from the Department of Paintings, Tripods, and Bowls. The relative
showed Bemish color photographs of the astoundingly beautiful fifth dynasty
vessels and several paintings done in the "morning fog" style, most popular
at the Golden Sovereign times, and in the "thousand scales" style. The girl
and dragon painting was not there. Or, more precisely, it was there and not
one, but several of them - it was a popular sea prince tale - but none of
them belonged to Koinna's hand.
The official offered Bemish to sell anything the latter would like and
the price he asked for the fifth dynasty last survived silk paintings was
twice less than what any modern doodle, sold in Bonn's galleries, would
cost.
Bemish thanked the official and refused.
Kissur arranged for Bemish an audience in the Hundred Fields Hall.
Bemish left his car next to the Sky Palace wall and he was escorted
down the sanded paths and fragrant alleys.
In a light flooded hall, resembling a fragment from a fairy tale from
the sky, the officials whispered, dressed in ancient court clothes. In half
an hour, a silver curtain moved to the side - the Emperor Varnazd was
sitting on the amethyst throne. The Emperor was dressed in white, he had a
sad delicate face with strikingly made-up eyebrows, rising at the tips. It
looked like a silent single actor play. Bemish thought it to be a very sad
play.
The curtain soon moved back and the officials dispersed to attend their
own business.
Bemish crossed the fragrant gardens and exited the palace gate. The
square in front of the palace gasped with heat, two half-naked brats
explored a stinking street rut with their hands.
Bemish opened his car, foraged in the glove compartment and dished
several chocolate bars out to the brats. They tore the wrappers apart
sinking their rotting teeth into the chocolate.
"Hey," Bemish asked in his crappy Weian, "do you know what Earth is?"
"Of course. It's a place in the sky, where we'll go after we die, if we
behave ourselves and obey the Emperor."
Having turned the air conditioning on, Bemish sat in the car for a
while, looking at the silver beasts on the palace wall crest, remembering
the Hundred Fields Hall's immense luxury, the golden ceiling and jade
columns. "A very rich government of a very poor nation," he thought.
In two weeks, Bemish was at a party that the first minister threw to
celebrate his birthday. There was food and binge drinking and girls. There
was swimming in a night pond. There were various contracts made and papers
signed amidst the dishes with stuffed dates and the dishes with everything
that was raised in the sky and raised on the ground, these very papers would
normally involve huge bribes; the bribes, however, were still supposed be
paid later. There were also songs and poetry. A ministry of finance official
- was his name Tai? - took something resembling a lute and started playing
music and singing.
Then, a girl sang a song - it was a very lyrical song. Bemish was told
that an official named Andarz had written this song about twenty years ago.
He was the police minister and he had suppressed the Chakhar uprising,
having hung everybody who couldn't buy him off and letting off everybody who
could. Coming back to the capital, he wrote the cycle of his best poetry
about the four seasons. Bemish felt chills run down his spine, he leaned
over to Kissur and said.
"This is a great singer."
The girl finished the song and sat, by Kissur's order, on Bemish's
knees.
Afterwards, they started playing rhymes. Bemish, of course, didn't know
Weian good enough to compose a verse with a given rhyme or to finish a line.
But, somehow, he felt that he wouldn't do any better in English than in
Weian.
A street singer was brought in.
Bemish recalled how he was driving from the spaceport and asked his
interpreter - the guy had started as one of the Weians that washed dishes on
the ground - to stop the car. He wanted to look at the street puppeteer with
a crowd gathered around him on the curb. The interpreter answered that it
was "uncultured." Bemish asked what was "cultured," and he found out that it
was "cultured" for the whole neighborhood to attend trashy Hollywood and
Seilass movies.
Here, among the higher officials, nobody thought that listening to a
street singer was uncultured.
The street singer sang praise to the guests and they tossed money into
his hat and showed him to the kitchen. The officials started singing
themselves.
If only they hadn't sung! Then, everything would have been fine and it
would have just been corrupted bureaucrats' drunken debauchery. But they
sang so well! Bemish had a difficulty imagining state department officials
coming to their boss's party and singing so well - or signing such papers at
the same party.
Or was it all related? And will the poetry follow the corruption on its
way to extinction? Mr. Andars departed Chakhar, burned by him, for the
capital and composed his most beautiful poetry cycle about summer and fall.
He was probably very happy. He probably obtained a lot of booty on the
Chakhar trip.
Eight years later, Kissur and Andars found themselves on the different
sides of the same sword and Kissur had hung rebellious Andars and loved
listening to his poetry.
The next week, Bemish arranged a return feast at his villa.
During the dinner, Shavash kept glancing at Inis, who was serving the
guests. When she, having provided the guests with the sweets, walked by
Shavash with an empty tray, the official pulled her to himself suddenly and
seated her on his knees. Inis jumped off hurriedly, upsetting Shavash's cup
with her sleeve. Fortunately, there was no wine left in the cup.
Excusing himself, Shavash left earlier than the others. Bemish walked
him down.
Getting in his car, Shavash said.
"Inis is charming, Terence. They say you made her your secretary? She
is as smart as she is attractive, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"I will never believe it! Would you like a bet - I will take your
secretary in for two weeks, and if I am satisfied, I owe you fifty
thousand."
Bemish was silent.
"Mr. Bemish!"
"I can't do you this favor, vice-minister."
"Let me have her for one night, then. She can choose afterwards."
"Look, Shavash, have you asked Kissur to let you have Idari for a
night?"
"How can you compare it?" Shavash was offended. "Idari is a highborn
lady and what do you have here? A small briber's daughter that you bought
for thirty thousand - they cheated you by charging twice more than the
regular price."
"Get out of here, vice-minister," Bemish said, "before you hurt
yourself over my fist."
In the evening, after all the guests had left, Bemish walked upstairs
to the bedroom. Inis lay in the bed. Bemish sat on the blanket's edge and
the woman, propping herself up, started to unbutton his jacket and shirt.
"This official, Shavash, asked me to hand you over to him," Bemish
said. "At first, he hoped that I would offer you myself and, then, he
couldn't hold it any longer and just blurted it out. I almost trounced him."
Inis shuddered.
"Don't give me away to Shavash," she said. "He is a nasty man. He has
five wives and a whip for each one. He hangs out in red light streets at
night and locks himself with his secretaries during the daytime - a week ago
a secretary of his hanged himself - they said he embezzled too much. And how
he entertains himself in bawdy houses!"
Bemish reddened. His knowledge of Shavash's behavior in bawdy houses
was based on personal observations. And he doubted his behavior was much
better.
The next day, when Bemish walked upstairs, Inis's room was empty. A
pale note lay lonely on the table. "I hate him. But he called me and said
that he would hang my father."
Bemish was at the ministry of finance in an hour. He threw a frightened
secretary away and appeared at Shavash's office door.
"You scoundrel," Bemish said. "I'll tell Kissur everything. I'll tell
the sovereign..."
"And the human rights committee," the official nodded. "I don't want to
place you in an uncomfortable position, director. I assure you that Inis's
father deserves a rope - I have his dossier here. It's pretty horrible - all
these dirty tricks that a small, stupid, and greedy briber can commit, the
dirty tricks that ended with deaths and dishonor. Can you believe that - for
a bribe, he switched some names on the arraignment orders after the Chakhar
rebellion, he accepted as completed a water dam that burst in a month and
destroyed a whole village. I assure you - if you complain to the sovereign,
her father will certainly be executed."
"Give me back my wife," Bemish screamed.
The official stood up unhurriedly from his armchair, walked around the
table and stopped right next to the Earthman. Bemish stared right into his
attentive golden eyes and long lightly mascara coated eyelashes.
"What do you want from me?" Bemish said. "Deals? Bribes?"
Shavash smiled at the Earthman without answering. Shavash was still
very beautiful, maybe slight overweight for his height, and Bemish was
surprised to notice some grey strands in his hair.
Shavash raised his hand slowly and suddenly started to unbutton
Terence's jacket. Bemish was confounded and he closed his eyes. The hot
hands slipped under his shirt and a soft voice sounded right next to him.
"If you want to quench your thirst, don't quarrel with a spring,
Earthman."
Bemish didn't feel repulsion. But he definitely felt horror. Shavash's
lips appeared next to his and, at least a minute passed, till Bemish
realized that they were kissing. Then, a phone rang far away.
Bemish came back to his senses.
His jacket was unbuttoned, the shirt stood out above the pants in a
funny way and something jutted in the pants. The small official stood in
front of him and looked at the Earthman with laughing eyes.
Bemish raised his hand lifelessly and wiped his mouth with the palm.
"Beat it," Shavash said. "Take your concubine and beat it. She bores
me. She mewled in bed all night."
Bemish retreated crabwise to the door, turned around and rushed out.
"Button yourself, at least!" the official sarcastically shouted after
him.
Having torn out the office door handle, Bemish jumped out into the
foyer. Something flapped in the air and a plastic folder fell at Bemish's
feet with multicolored pages standing out. It was the folder with the Inis'
father dossier. Bemish snatched it and kept running.
Nobody believed that Kissur would make friends with the Earthman.
Greenmailer, par venue, gobbler that has recently swallowed a small
automated door
company with LSV help and used it as a step to swallow something
bigger; one of the youngsters, that Trevis made his money with - a nobody
without Trevis. This man had the crappiest reputation on Wall Street. "The
hungriest of Trevis's scoundrels," the director of the automated door
company said about him after he had been fired. How could Kissur, who
considered a well-behaved president of, say, Morgan James to be an usurer
fit for the gallows, be friends with this financial horse thief?
The friendship between the Earthman and Kissur caused a bit of harmless
gossip - everybody expected that either the Earthman calls Kissur a
pedigreed bandit or Kissur reproaches Bemish with the latter's passionate
avarice. However, Kissur's presenting Bemish with his manor, caused thoughts
and glances in the five main precincts.
Bemish visited the capital police prefect to sign a paper with a blue
line. The prefect congratulated him with the manor, sighed and said.
"You shouldn't be so close to Kissur. Do you know how he launched his
career? He and his seven friends robbed a state caravan. They killed thirty
six guards and Kissur put the caravan master's head on a stake, thought the
man was not guilty of anything except having children and an old mother that
he needed to support. Then, Kissur quarreled with the robbers because their
leader didn't want to step aside for him and he baked the leader in an earth
oven."
"But now," Bemish quipped, "Kissur doesn't have to rob caravans."
The prefect passed his hand over his cheek.
"There are, alas, dozens of people around Kissur. These people can
handle weapons, despise bribers and traders and think robbery to be the only
respectable profit source. Do you think that our country is poor due to
bribers and large taxes? Alas, our businessmen don't pay money to the
government, they, instead, pay money to the bandits who protect them from
the other bandits."
"Nobody," Bemish said, "asked me for the protection money."
"Exactly," the police prefect said.
Bemish wanted to grab the damn official by his neck and ask him whether
he was hinting that Kissur was in charge of the capital criminals. He,
however, thanked him for the signature and left. Although, Kissur did take
him to one of the city's most famous thief's taverns and he was welcome
there - Bemish learned later that if he ambled in this tavern without a
pass, he wouldn't have just been killed there - the tavern's guests would
have been fed his body in a soup - that was their cute way of getting rid of
the corpses.
That day, Bemish was in the finance ministry, at Shavash's. Entering
his office, he stumbled upon a pale upset man, dressed in standard clothing
but having soft Weian manners.
Shavash led him into the garden, where fountains and birds chirped, and
ordered a table with appetizers. Somehow the conversation unnoticeably
drifted to Idari, Kissur's wife. Shavash said that if not for Idari, Kissur
would have smashed his head long time ago.
"He loves her a lot," Shavash said, sighing. Three months ago, he
feasted the people at her naming day, and he spent three million."
He paused and added.
"Where do you think Kissur gets so much money if he doesn't take bribes
and doesn't do any business?"
"It's the tax police business and not mine, to know where he gets the
money," Bemish said. "And it's the sovereign's business, since he bequests
him an oil well or a manor every month."
Shavash waved his hand and started drinking tea. In five minutes, he
suddenly said.
"Do you know the man who left just before you came in? He is the Damass
insurance company director. It was robbed yesterday. They took twenty
million dinars in cash."
Bemish was surprised - newspapers published nothing about the robbery.
"Why did they have so much money in cash?" Bemish inquired.
"That's exactly the problem," Shavash sighed. "That's the question, who
is the company going to pay such a sum of money to - on a holiday evening?"
He paused.
"It will not appear in the newspapers. But the company was indeed
robbed."
"Will it appear to the police?"
"Yes," Shavash said, "since our police - if asked - will not inquire
why the company needed this money."
Bemish finished his coffee and asked.
"Listen, Shavash, are you trying to tell me that Kissur robs banks at
nights or that you, at least, will do your best to convince the sovereign of
it?"
"Come on, Mr. Bemish," the official was taken aback, "why did you..."
And suddenly he tousled his hair. "He is a madman! If he is passing a house
on fire, he will rush inside to get a child out and, if he is passing a
house that's not burning, he will set it aflame."
Bemish bit his lip. The official was lying gently and consciously but
he was correct on one point - Kissur despised bankers unflappably and he
would approve of a bank robber. The words "order," "debt," and "commitment
to the sovereign" were never far from his lips but Bemish knew perfectly
well, that this adherent of order lived his life in such a way that he far
outperformed any anarchist and rebel buff. Kissur wouldn't rob a bank for
money but the sovereign's favorite could easily take the money for fun and
throw it in the next canal.
In the evening, when Bemish dropped by the hotel, yearning for the food
of his childhood and hoping to get something other than a marinated
jellyfish or a guinea pig burger, somebody called him. Bemish turned around
and recognized Richard Giles and another Richard - MacFarlein - the IC
people.
"Drop it," Giles said.
"What?"
"Drop this project. You won't get anything out of it, anyway. Do
something else - build the business center instead of Kaminsky."
Bemish felt his face paling with rage. It looked like Giles has already
picked up the local officials' manners.
"I," Bemish said, "have invested too much in this business to just drop
it."
"How much have you invested," Giles smiled. "IC will pay your
expenses."
"How is that? Since when do the private companies pay the competitors'
expenses?"
"You will not win this auction," Giles said.
Here, McFarlein spoke softly.
"Mr. Bemish," he said, "why do you need this planet? Bribers,
criminals, heretics, zealots, and now, terrorists. Have you heard that
yesterday an Earthman was shot in Chakhar - he owned several plants. By the
way, the Chakhar governor's son did the shooting - a Sorbonne graduate, an
anarcho-communist or something like that. Another lad, an Earthman, was with
him... "We will instigate a full-scale terror against the Earth
exploitators, weed the bribers out and build the Crystal Palace on Weia
afterwards, and erect two monuments in front of the palace - for Karl Marx
and for the sovereign Irshahchan."
Bemish stared at him dumbfounded. "Uh-huh," a thought passed his mind,
"isn't it the same lad who came with Ashidan?"
And Giles cast a transparent eye and delivered.
"Yeah. Aren't you afraid to be shot by a heretic, a local or an
imported one?"
Bemish took Giles by a button and said.
"Listen, Giles, have you seen how Kissur casts a spear?"
"What does a spear have to do with it?" Giles was astonished.
"Kissur just casts a spear and the spear runs through a hefty birch all
the way. And today one guy told me that I should keep away from Kissur since
he robbed caravans and another hinted that I should keep away from Kissur
since he robbed banks. And though Kissur doesn't rob banks - I am sure, you
know, that if I pass our conversation to Kissur, and I'll do it, and I am
killed afterwards - then Kissur will kill you, Mr. Giles and you, Mr.
McFarlein. And he will assuredly kill you - nobody has heard yet about
Kissur wanting to kill somebody and failing."
Giles stepped back. Clearly, he didn't like all that much the words
about the spear and the birch.
Richard Giles walked upstairs to his room still under the impression
from the conversation in the hall. Whistling through his teeth, he dialed
the personal Shavash's line number - no secretaries - and, in two seconds,
he said in the receiver.
"This son of a bitch, Bemish - are you still going to admit him to the
auction?"
"I guarantee you," Shavash replied, "that this man is absolutely
harmless. Everything will happen accordingly to our plan."
"Harmless?" Giles screamed. "Do you know that half of his inquires on
Earth deal with IC? Do you know what he told Kissur?"
"I know," Shavash said ironically, "if I am not mistaken, you got the
taped conversation from me."
"Damn it! Yes, that was you. Anyway, do you think that's fine? What if
Kissur repeats these words to the sovereign? Where will we be then?"
"What do you want?"
"Take action."
"I will not take any action," Shavash said, "causing your newspapers to
write that the Empire is an unsafe place for foreign investors. If you take
such an action, you will not get even the tiniest piece of Assalah, not even
the size of a melon seed. Have I made myself clear?"
"Very clear," Giles muttered.
"You have no reasons to be nervous," Shavash said.
"No reasons? What if he just buys the damn company?"
"You will have to offer a bit more for the shares. Nine point one
dinar, at least. You have to agree that I just can't give the company away
to an investor that paid twice less for it. Everything has a limit."
"Son of a bitch," Giles said, slamming the receiver down. "He is just
using this Bemish to squeeze more money out of us. Nine point one! How can I
get a clearance for this money?"
"No problem," his companion said. "We can use an alternative approach
and deflate his ego meanwhile."
"Have you heard, what he said?"
"I heard it. I said - a totally alternative approach. Who finances this
Bemish guy? Trevis..."
Bemish left the hotel for the city. He spent some time in the temple
that he had visited with Kissur and descended to the tavern. A young man met
him in the tavern.
The young man offered to sell him twenty thousand Assalah shares at six
hundred a piece.
They bargained a bit and Bemish bought the shares for five hundred
eighty.
Bemish silently pulled the checkbook out and tore of a check that was
already filled with the correct number. The young man looked at him
respectfully and said.
"How did you know what price we would agree on?"
Bemish grinned. He had three checkbooks in his pockets and all of them
had the first check filled out - the other two checks Bemish would feed to
the garbage burner in an hour.
Bemish signed the check and gave it to the youth.
"Would you like to eat?" Bemish asked.
"I'd rather go."
"Hold on. How did you get the shares?"
"They are not mine, they belong to my uncle."
"How did your uncle get them?"
"He bought them."
"Why did he buy these shares in particular?"
"He bought a lot of securities."
"Why did he decide to sell them?"
"He needs money urgently. He got sent to prison."
"Why?"
The youth pointed at his basket.
"Because of the Assalah shares?"
"The investigator was asking him about these shares at the
interrogation. He hinted my uncle that he would let him go if my uncle gives
the shares to a higher official that would like to acquire them."
"Shavash?"
"Don't say it out loud. It works this way, Mr. Earthman - while a word
is in your mouth - you are its master, and when the word is out of your
mouth - it is your master."
"Why didn't your uncle give the shares to the official?"
"He went nuts, when he heard it," the youth said. "He said that he
would give these shares to a man that can kick the official in the butt."
"He could sell them cheaper, then."
"No. The jailers take too much. Good food in the jail costs more than
in the best restaurant, you know. Also, very strict orders concerning my
uncle have been given and the jailers charge him a higher price for being
benevolent."
"Oh, well," Bemish said. "It could be worse, two million for half a
percent."
The youth hesitated.
"It's actually," he said, "no more than twenty five hundredth of a
percent."
"Whaaat?!"
"Don't you know that? Half a year ago, when the share price was lower
than the moon in a well, Shavash secretly issued additional shares and
distributed them among his friends."
"Secret shares?!!"
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, this is first time in my life when I stumbled upon this
particular type of securities manipulation. And how many shares have been
issued?"
"I don't know. Some people say that it was a million and a half, some
people say that it was two million."
"Who says that? Where could I find this out?"
"Promise not to refer to my uncle's name."
"I don't know his name, how can I refer to it?"
"Still, promise it."
"Ok."
"I think that the Assalah district chief judge has these shares and
knows a lot."
Bemish returned to Kissur's villa late at night. He almost always
stopped there now when he visited the capital. He wanted to see Idari more
often.
A phone call woke Bemish in the middle of the night.
"Yes?"
"Terence?"
Bemish almost jumped up. The LSV director was talking to him from
Earth.
"We have a great offer for you," Trevis said, "the Union Disk company.
They make laser disks. Get here. It can be bought."
"I am working on Assalah."
"It's not a promising deal. We will not finance it."
Bemish fell apart inside.
"Ronald! You guaranteed it..."
"We will pay you the forfeit."
"I don't need the forfeit, I need Assalah."
"Get back to Earth," Trevis said, "and we will talk about Union Disk."
"What should I do with the Assalah shares? I bought 17%!!!"
"Sell them. It's your profession."
"If you don't finance this deal, I will find another company."
"You will not find another company, Terence, because no other company
lets you on their doorstep. You are nothing, Terence. You are a greenmailer
with twenty million dollars in your pocket. We made you. Nobody else needs
you. You are a financial pirate. I will be waiting for you tomorrow in my
office, at fifteen thirty. If you don't get stuck in traffic, you will make
it."
And Ronald Trevis put the receiver down.
Bemish turned the light on, put the clothes on and sat at the table. He
sat there for a while, till he heard the door creaking. Bemish turned around
- Kissur and Khanadar the Dried Date walked in. Khanadar looked quite
dashing in black laced pants and a brocade barbarian jacket. Kissur had a
grey suit and a tie on.
"Hey," Kissur said, "it's fantastic that you are not asleep. We decided
to get some kicks in a pub. Let's go."
Bemish was silent.
"What has happened to you, Terence? You look like a fly in insect
spray!"
"I am screwed," Bemish said. "Trevis refuses to finance the deal."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I don't know where Shavash got such powerful
connections."
"I see. What are you going to do?"
"I am going to sell the shares. I don't have any other choice."
"Are you going to sell them at the higher price than you bought them
at?"
"Naturally... I hold a large block. I can make IC's life hard if it
doesn't buy it at the price I want. If I, for instance, appeal IC's actions
in an international arbiter court, it will get into one hell of a
trouble..."
"It's called greenmail, right?" Kissur specified.
"Yes."
"Shavash was right, then," Kissur said.
"How dare you!" Bemish shouted, leaping up - and he saw Kissur's
contorted face in front of him and the white knuckles on his fist. Bemish
managed to duck the first punch. The second one threw him off the chair and
to the floor. Bemish somersaulted and bounced back on his feet, the Kissur's
boot square tip missed his ear by a centimeter.
Bemish had a chance of holding his own against Kissur but Khanadar the
Dried Date was also in the office.
"Dumb jerk," Bemish screamed getting in a fighting stance but here
Khanadar grabbed him by the elbows. At the next moment, Kissur's knee
collided with Bemish's groin; Kissur turned and kicked Bemish in the ear
with the same leg. The Earthman collapsed to the floor. Kissur sat atride
him and started to choke him.
"Haven't I told you," Kissur hissed sitting astride the expiring
Earthman, "that I would kill you?"
Bemish grunted and hissed striving to say something. Khanadar
approached and stood next to them.
"Let him go for a second," Khanadar said, "let him admit that he wanted
to cheat us from the very beginning. He thinks it's a planet he can take a
good crap at."
Kissur grinned and loosened up the clench. Bemish lay like a worm on a
garden path.
"Idiot," the financier coughed, "I wanted to buy Assalah."
An atrocious kick with a boot in the ribs silenced him.
"Again."
"I wanted to buy Assalah. Trevis was ready to finance the deal. I don't
know why he refused. He was browbeaten."
Another kick followed, this time it was the groin.
"Liar! Trevis didn't refuse anything. You were playing your favorite
game! You took us for worms, didn't you?"
"I wanted to buy Assalah. Trevis was browbeaten."
"Who?"
"Shavash."
"Yeah? Why wasn't it IC?"
"IC has headquarters in an Arkansas dog's kernel. Their balls are too
small to push Trevis around. They should buy a new fax machine first."
"Why is Shavash afraid of you?"
"Shavash wants a buyer who will blink at all his frauds. It was not a
company - they were just pumping the budget money into private pockets! Last
year Shavash secretly issued more bonds! I think that this goes against even
the bizarre local securities regulations."
"What is "secret bond issue?"
"I don't know. I have never stumbled upon such a financial product as a
secretly issued bond in all my life. But, basically, it means that Shavash
re-divided the company accordingly to his wishes - he gave his friends more
and he devalued the stocks belonging to his enemies or bystanders."
"What about the state's share?"
"It depends on how many additional shares the state obtained."
"He is lying through his teeth," Khanadar said. "They would have
arranged it with Shavash about thieving. He was going to cheat us from the
very beginning."
"No!"
"All right," Kissur said. "I will believe you but only with one
condition. You will sell the company shares at the same price you bought
them."
"No."
Kissur grinned and took one of the swords hanging in the room from a
prop. He got it out of the sheath and pushed its triangular tip in Bemish's
throat.
"Yes, or I will kill you."
Bemish licked his lips. He didn't doubt that Kissur would kill him.
It's stupid. Terence Bemish, a successful financier, half-crook half-genius,
had never considered ending his life in a huge city manor of an Empire
ex-minister - in the manor, where not a single servant would ever blurt out
anything about his fate or, to the opposite, all the servants would swear
that Bemish left the manor gate whole and unhurt... Nobody would ever prove
anything. Even Shavash would not kill him. Not because he minded killing,
but because he was a rational man and he clearly would not want Weia to be
declared a place where foreign investors were found with their throats
cut... Nothing is cheaper than hiring a killer. But Shavash didn't kill
Bemish, he went for Trevis instead - it was an order of magnitude more
difficult and expensive...
"If I don't sell the shares with a rake-off," Bemish said, "I'll go
bankrupt. They will point their fingers at me. I will not do what you want."
"Take your knife, Kissur, and cut his balls off, " Khanadar said, "it
doesn't befit you to dirty your noble sword by a money-grubber."
"You wanted that from the very beginning, didn't you?"
"No, I wanted to buy Assalah."
"How much do you need to buy Assalah?"
"If only half of my potential creditors fulfill their promises without
Trevis, I'll need five million."
"I will find this money," Kissur said, throwing the sword back in the
sheath and he left.
The Sixth Chapter
Where company AC declares its real name while Mr. Shavash mentions
several unexpected thoughts about democracy's drawbacks.
The announcement of the investment auction for the acquisition of the
state-owned block of shares was published in the government's White Herald a
day before the application deadline. The announcement mandated that the
auction participants should turn in a deposit of 6% of projected investment
and should demonstrate reliable proof of being able to fulfill the assumed
financial obligations.
Trevis hadn't called Bemish since - it was below his dignity. On the
other hand, the corporate financing department head called and told Bemish
that he didn't need to hurry back to Trevis' headquarters since he wouldn't
be received anyway.
The next day, Bemish stepped out of a luxurious limo that arrived at
the ministry of finance, formerly first minister Rush's palace. A crowd was
already there, including the local financiers who, having heard about the
Assalah fray, were willing to risk taking part in the auction. Kissur
appeared in the registration hall at almost the same time as Bemish.
Shavash, the director of the company offered for tender, ignored Bemish
utterly. He was talking to an Earth journalist. The subject of the talk was
the importance of foreign investors - only they were able to force Weian
companies to correspond to international audit standards and raise Empire
finances to a new level.
Bemish silently watched the official registering his application and
entering the necessary financial contrivances into the computer. What if
this bastard makes an error and Bemish won't be allowed to participate on
technical grounds.
The official finished the registration, shoved an embossed sheet with
the application in the printer and, having printed everything, carried it to
Shavash for a signature. Shavash, without being distracted from the
progressive interview, signed everything.
Bemish moved away to a small table where, by Weian custom, fruits and a
special bowl constantly filled with peach juice stood. The juice filled the
bowl through a special tube and symbolized the everlasting plenty. Bemish
poured some juice in a cup and here Giles approached him.
"Can I ask you where you got the money?" Giles enquired.
"The investment company Plana offered me credit."
"What kind of company is it?"
"It's a company located on Gera," Bemish replied gloating.
"A company located on Gera? Why not a company located in a devil's
arse? When did it come to being, yesterday?"
Bemish looked at his watch.
"To be precise, it came to being today, three hours ago."
Meanwhile, Shavash finished his enlightened interview and led Kissur
aside.
"Did you," he asked, "loan Bemish money?"
"Am I a usurer?" Kissur was offended, "to loan money? It was a gift."
"You were born of a Barsharg goat!" Shavash swore. "This is the last
you'll see of it."
"Let's see," Kissur said, "who wins the auction."
Here, another Earth journalist approached Shavash and the company
director started repeating how only a scrupulous foreign investor could save
Weian economics.
By the evening, the bored journalists, hanging out at the cafe, could
record in their notebooks that three companies were interested in the
state's offer - Bemish's ADO, IC Corporation, and Rusby and C - were
offering to buy the shares out first and to finance the construction out of
the galactic company resources afterwards. Five or six large investment
banks were also interested. They were not going to buy Assalah shares
themselves. They mostly offered to the government various alternatives of
convertible bonds that these banks would distribute to the Galactic
investors - the bonds would be converted, at some date, to Assalah shares
now belonging to the state. Such a large number of investment bank aspirants
had surprised Bemish at first but he was told later that actually his modest
person was the source. The players on the fund market ferreted out that
Terence Bemish was going to buy some blip-blop limited in some banana
republic, decided that it had to be a swell deal and followed him like the
honey gatherers follow a bee.
A phone call from Kissur woke Bemish up at 3am.
"Hello, Terence. The investment auction is cancelled. Two hours, after
the applications had been submitted, Shavash sold 51% of state-owned Assalah
shares to IC Company at five and a half dinars per share."
"What do you mean sold?" Bemish choked.
The line went off.
Fifteen minutes later, a car stopped under the hotel windows and Kissur
jumped out of it.
"Dress," Kissur said. "We are going to the sovereign."
"Why?"
At this point, the phone rang again. Bemish picked up the receiver.
"Terence, this is Shavash. Call your complaint off."
"What complaint?"
"Don't pretend. Call off the complaint that you wrote to the sovereign
requesting to arrest me for bribery."
"Have you lost your mind? I've never written this crap!"
"Terence, if you go to the sovereign you will be squashed flat. You can
forget about working in a bank - they won't hire you as a cashier in a
supermarket. Got it?"
"I haven't..."
Shavash slammed the receiver.
"I signed the complaint for you, Bemish," Kissur said. "The sovereign
will examine it at this morning audience."
Bemish grabbed his head.
"Oh, my God, Kissur are you nuts? If you don't have mercy for me, have
mercy for your own country!"
"I have mercy for my country," Kissur said. "You explained to me, what
IC is yourself. They will just rob us and that's it. Or, were you bulling
One and a half tons of the equipment (out of the three tons ordered by
Bemish) arrived at the spaceport, and the Earthmen were spending days and
nights there.
On the third day, the precinct head herded the peasants to fix the road
with old concrete blocks so that the new White Villa master could drive his
iron barrel from the villa to the construction site.
The next week Bemish started to search for the missing equipment and
found it at Ravadan spaceport where it had been from the beginning. He had
to go to Ravadan.
Passing by the nearest village, Bemish noticed an unhitched wagon - the
peasants were gathering at the wagon and unloading the planks for the
assembling stage. It seemed to Bemish that the oldster in charge of the
construction was the same oldster, who played a god on the market in the
capital and tore apart the banknotes Bemish gave him.
An inspector in Ravadan claimed that the equipment containers were
emitting gamma radiation (it happened, rarely) and that they had to undergo
an expensive treatment. Bemish silently gave five thousand isheviks to the
inspector and, in half an hour, he was organizing the boxes being loaded in
a rented truck. The containers didn't emit any radiation whatsoever.
The boxes rode to Assalah, while Bemish stayed at the capital for a
reception given in the honor of the sovereign's ancestor, who had slept with
a mermaid three hundred and forty years ago.
There were very few women at the reception and Bemish's heart skipped a
beat when he saw Idari next to a lighted pool. She had a black dress with
sparkles and black shoes on. Two heavy braids entwining her head were held
by a butterfly shaped hairpin, strewn with the pink pearls, and a necklace
of the same pearls encircled her neck. She was talking to Shavash and
another man, unfamiliar to Bemish.
"Here you are, Bemish," Shavash turned around. "Let me introduce you -
the Empire's first minister, Mr. Yanik."
Bemish had been looking at Idari till then; he quickly turned to the
first minister. He was a neat senior man with a head, slightly flattened at
the temples, and grey eyes, more clever than intelligent. He was dressed
accordingly to Galactic fashion. Bemish didn't see anything striking in his
face and he immediately recalled the rumors about Yanik being a temporary
figurehead, a non-entity, put forth to the Emperor, till his patrons
couldn't settle on a compromise; the non-entity stuck to his position,
however, for a longer time, than the patrons had planned.
"Mr. Bemish would like to buy Assalah spaceport," Shavash said.
"Where will the money come from?"
"Mr. Bemish expects to collect the necessary money via the
high-interest bonds, underwritten on the world market by the well known LSV
bank."
At that point, a voice came from behind.
"It would be great, if Mr. Bemish explained where he will find the
money to pay the interest if the spaceport doesn't give two cents in the
first year."
Bemish turned around. Quite a number of people approached Yanik and the
words belonged to Giles.
"Mr. Giles' company," Shavash explained, "is also participating in the
auction,"
"The spaceport's owner," Bemish said, "will jump out of his pants to
find money. What will you do, however, besides buying the shares at one
price and offering them at the market at another? What will prevent you from
washing your hands?"
"That's right," another voice came in. "Your company's reputation is
not the best one."
"Mr. Rusby," Shavash introduced, "is another investment auction
participant."
Bemish and Giles turned around almost simultaneously.
"It's not for you to talk about reputation," Giles cried out.
"Who, exactly, is financing your offer?" Bemish was surprised.
Standing next to Rusby, the Gera envoy inclined his head slightly and
said.
"Several Gera banks support Mr. Rusby."
"Be careful," Giles grinned, "this man cheated the Galaxy investors out
of one and a half billion."
"The Securities Commission cheated them out of one and a half billion,"
Rusby objected. "Nobody can blame me in failing to pay what I promised, in
unsuccessful investments or in a pyramid scheme."
Giles went blue in the face.
"Is it true, Mr. Shavash," he said, "that the man who bankrupted two
hundred thousand investors, is participating in the Assalah auction?"
"Everybody is participating in the auction," the small official said.
"Including a rogue supported by the dictator's money?"
"I am not familiar with a financial term dictatorship," Shavash
replied.
Bemish looked around and noticed another witness of this ruckus -
Khanadar the Dried Date looked at him out of a corner. Bemish quietly came
to him and asked.
"So, how do you like the business world?"
Khanadar grinned.
"Once, twenty years ago," he said, "my comrades and I were coming back
from a not-so-successful trip. We had been going to pillage a town but when
we came in, the town had already been pillaged and the guys, who had
pillaged it, drove us away. We were famished since we didn't eat anything
for days. Even our horses croaked. Finally, we reached the coast and a town,
and the food and the loot in the town. Then, we got friendlier to each other
and began to hug and we had tried to keep a ten step distance, before, - to
avoid being eaten."
"I see. So, the Earthmen resemble you in this trip, before you found
this town."
"Eh, Terence-rey (Khanadar used a respectful Alom postfix.) We only
needed three rolls for a man not to worry about being eaten, but I still
haven't figured out how much an Earthman needs, not to eat another
Earthman."
The officials attended to Bemish extensively and soon the whole villa
was filled by their gifts - Bemish, however, had to make gifts of his own in
return.
Shavash send Bemish a painting as a gift. The painting was done in the
"thousand scales" style with spider web lines drawn on silk; a girl, feeding
from her hand a dragon that stuck its head out of the water, was depicted.
The girl with black hair and eyes, big like olives, resembled Idari and
Bemish hung it right above the table in his office. At their next meeting,
Shavash praised Bemish's taste and said that it was a fifth dynasty
painting, most probably, an excellent copy of a Koinna's masterpiece.
Bemish, somewhat galled that the gift was only a copy, inquired about the
original's location and Shavash, laughing, told him that the original was
stored in the palace and was fated to an eternal confinement, like the
Emperor's wives.
"However," Shavash added with a grin, "they now sell the palace
treasures left and right. I think that nobody reaps as much money as the
custodians of paintings and bowls; at least one third of everything that has
ever been painted and potted in by Eukemen is stored in the palace. Nobody
except the Emperor and the custodian in charge has access to the treasures,
there is absolutely no order there - steal as much as you want."
The headman heard this conversation and, arching his body in the usual
way, told Bemish that a far relative of his worked in the palace and would
love to meet the Earthman.
Bemish met him. The far relative appeared to be a small red nosed
official from the Department of Paintings, Tripods, and Bowls. The relative
showed Bemish color photographs of the astoundingly beautiful fifth dynasty
vessels and several paintings done in the "morning fog" style, most popular
at the Golden Sovereign times, and in the "thousand scales" style. The girl
and dragon painting was not there. Or, more precisely, it was there and not
one, but several of them - it was a popular sea prince tale - but none of
them belonged to Koinna's hand.
The official offered Bemish to sell anything the latter would like and
the price he asked for the fifth dynasty last survived silk paintings was
twice less than what any modern doodle, sold in Bonn's galleries, would
cost.
Bemish thanked the official and refused.
Kissur arranged for Bemish an audience in the Hundred Fields Hall.
Bemish left his car next to the Sky Palace wall and he was escorted
down the sanded paths and fragrant alleys.
In a light flooded hall, resembling a fragment from a fairy tale from
the sky, the officials whispered, dressed in ancient court clothes. In half
an hour, a silver curtain moved to the side - the Emperor Varnazd was
sitting on the amethyst throne. The Emperor was dressed in white, he had a
sad delicate face with strikingly made-up eyebrows, rising at the tips. It
looked like a silent single actor play. Bemish thought it to be a very sad
play.
The curtain soon moved back and the officials dispersed to attend their
own business.
Bemish crossed the fragrant gardens and exited the palace gate. The
square in front of the palace gasped with heat, two half-naked brats
explored a stinking street rut with their hands.
Bemish opened his car, foraged in the glove compartment and dished
several chocolate bars out to the brats. They tore the wrappers apart
sinking their rotting teeth into the chocolate.
"Hey," Bemish asked in his crappy Weian, "do you know what Earth is?"
"Of course. It's a place in the sky, where we'll go after we die, if we
behave ourselves and obey the Emperor."
Having turned the air conditioning on, Bemish sat in the car for a
while, looking at the silver beasts on the palace wall crest, remembering
the Hundred Fields Hall's immense luxury, the golden ceiling and jade
columns. "A very rich government of a very poor nation," he thought.
In two weeks, Bemish was at a party that the first minister threw to
celebrate his birthday. There was food and binge drinking and girls. There
was swimming in a night pond. There were various contracts made and papers
signed amidst the dishes with stuffed dates and the dishes with everything
that was raised in the sky and raised on the ground, these very papers would
normally involve huge bribes; the bribes, however, were still supposed be
paid later. There were also songs and poetry. A ministry of finance official
- was his name Tai? - took something resembling a lute and started playing
music and singing.
Then, a girl sang a song - it was a very lyrical song. Bemish was told
that an official named Andarz had written this song about twenty years ago.
He was the police minister and he had suppressed the Chakhar uprising,
having hung everybody who couldn't buy him off and letting off everybody who
could. Coming back to the capital, he wrote the cycle of his best poetry
about the four seasons. Bemish felt chills run down his spine, he leaned
over to Kissur and said.
"This is a great singer."
The girl finished the song and sat, by Kissur's order, on Bemish's
knees.
Afterwards, they started playing rhymes. Bemish, of course, didn't know
Weian good enough to compose a verse with a given rhyme or to finish a line.
But, somehow, he felt that he wouldn't do any better in English than in
Weian.
A street singer was brought in.
Bemish recalled how he was driving from the spaceport and asked his
interpreter - the guy had started as one of the Weians that washed dishes on
the ground - to stop the car. He wanted to look at the street puppeteer with
a crowd gathered around him on the curb. The interpreter answered that it
was "uncultured." Bemish asked what was "cultured," and he found out that it
was "cultured" for the whole neighborhood to attend trashy Hollywood and
Seilass movies.
Here, among the higher officials, nobody thought that listening to a
street singer was uncultured.
The street singer sang praise to the guests and they tossed money into
his hat and showed him to the kitchen. The officials started singing
themselves.
If only they hadn't sung! Then, everything would have been fine and it
would have just been corrupted bureaucrats' drunken debauchery. But they
sang so well! Bemish had a difficulty imagining state department officials
coming to their boss's party and singing so well - or signing such papers at
the same party.
Or was it all related? And will the poetry follow the corruption on its
way to extinction? Mr. Andars departed Chakhar, burned by him, for the
capital and composed his most beautiful poetry cycle about summer and fall.
He was probably very happy. He probably obtained a lot of booty on the
Chakhar trip.
Eight years later, Kissur and Andars found themselves on the different
sides of the same sword and Kissur had hung rebellious Andars and loved
listening to his poetry.
The next week, Bemish arranged a return feast at his villa.
During the dinner, Shavash kept glancing at Inis, who was serving the
guests. When she, having provided the guests with the sweets, walked by
Shavash with an empty tray, the official pulled her to himself suddenly and
seated her on his knees. Inis jumped off hurriedly, upsetting Shavash's cup
with her sleeve. Fortunately, there was no wine left in the cup.
Excusing himself, Shavash left earlier than the others. Bemish walked
him down.
Getting in his car, Shavash said.
"Inis is charming, Terence. They say you made her your secretary? She
is as smart as she is attractive, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"I will never believe it! Would you like a bet - I will take your
secretary in for two weeks, and if I am satisfied, I owe you fifty
thousand."
Bemish was silent.
"Mr. Bemish!"
"I can't do you this favor, vice-minister."
"Let me have her for one night, then. She can choose afterwards."
"Look, Shavash, have you asked Kissur to let you have Idari for a
night?"
"How can you compare it?" Shavash was offended. "Idari is a highborn
lady and what do you have here? A small briber's daughter that you bought
for thirty thousand - they cheated you by charging twice more than the
regular price."
"Get out of here, vice-minister," Bemish said, "before you hurt
yourself over my fist."
In the evening, after all the guests had left, Bemish walked upstairs
to the bedroom. Inis lay in the bed. Bemish sat on the blanket's edge and
the woman, propping herself up, started to unbutton his jacket and shirt.
"This official, Shavash, asked me to hand you over to him," Bemish
said. "At first, he hoped that I would offer you myself and, then, he
couldn't hold it any longer and just blurted it out. I almost trounced him."
Inis shuddered.
"Don't give me away to Shavash," she said. "He is a nasty man. He has
five wives and a whip for each one. He hangs out in red light streets at
night and locks himself with his secretaries during the daytime - a week ago
a secretary of his hanged himself - they said he embezzled too much. And how
he entertains himself in bawdy houses!"
Bemish reddened. His knowledge of Shavash's behavior in bawdy houses
was based on personal observations. And he doubted his behavior was much
better.
The next day, when Bemish walked upstairs, Inis's room was empty. A
pale note lay lonely on the table. "I hate him. But he called me and said
that he would hang my father."
Bemish was at the ministry of finance in an hour. He threw a frightened
secretary away and appeared at Shavash's office door.
"You scoundrel," Bemish said. "I'll tell Kissur everything. I'll tell
the sovereign..."
"And the human rights committee," the official nodded. "I don't want to
place you in an uncomfortable position, director. I assure you that Inis's
father deserves a rope - I have his dossier here. It's pretty horrible - all
these dirty tricks that a small, stupid, and greedy briber can commit, the
dirty tricks that ended with deaths and dishonor. Can you believe that - for
a bribe, he switched some names on the arraignment orders after the Chakhar
rebellion, he accepted as completed a water dam that burst in a month and
destroyed a whole village. I assure you - if you complain to the sovereign,
her father will certainly be executed."
"Give me back my wife," Bemish screamed.
The official stood up unhurriedly from his armchair, walked around the
table and stopped right next to the Earthman. Bemish stared right into his
attentive golden eyes and long lightly mascara coated eyelashes.
"What do you want from me?" Bemish said. "Deals? Bribes?"
Shavash smiled at the Earthman without answering. Shavash was still
very beautiful, maybe slight overweight for his height, and Bemish was
surprised to notice some grey strands in his hair.
Shavash raised his hand slowly and suddenly started to unbutton
Terence's jacket. Bemish was confounded and he closed his eyes. The hot
hands slipped under his shirt and a soft voice sounded right next to him.
"If you want to quench your thirst, don't quarrel with a spring,
Earthman."
Bemish didn't feel repulsion. But he definitely felt horror. Shavash's
lips appeared next to his and, at least a minute passed, till Bemish
realized that they were kissing. Then, a phone rang far away.
Bemish came back to his senses.
His jacket was unbuttoned, the shirt stood out above the pants in a
funny way and something jutted in the pants. The small official stood in
front of him and looked at the Earthman with laughing eyes.
Bemish raised his hand lifelessly and wiped his mouth with the palm.
"Beat it," Shavash said. "Take your concubine and beat it. She bores
me. She mewled in bed all night."
Bemish retreated crabwise to the door, turned around and rushed out.
"Button yourself, at least!" the official sarcastically shouted after
him.
Having torn out the office door handle, Bemish jumped out into the
foyer. Something flapped in the air and a plastic folder fell at Bemish's
feet with multicolored pages standing out. It was the folder with the Inis'
father dossier. Bemish snatched it and kept running.
Nobody believed that Kissur would make friends with the Earthman.
Greenmailer, par venue, gobbler that has recently swallowed a small
automated door
company with LSV help and used it as a step to swallow something
bigger; one of the youngsters, that Trevis made his money with - a nobody
without Trevis. This man had the crappiest reputation on Wall Street. "The
hungriest of Trevis's scoundrels," the director of the automated door
company said about him after he had been fired. How could Kissur, who
considered a well-behaved president of, say, Morgan James to be an usurer
fit for the gallows, be friends with this financial horse thief?
The friendship between the Earthman and Kissur caused a bit of harmless
gossip - everybody expected that either the Earthman calls Kissur a
pedigreed bandit or Kissur reproaches Bemish with the latter's passionate
avarice. However, Kissur's presenting Bemish with his manor, caused thoughts
and glances in the five main precincts.
Bemish visited the capital police prefect to sign a paper with a blue
line. The prefect congratulated him with the manor, sighed and said.
"You shouldn't be so close to Kissur. Do you know how he launched his
career? He and his seven friends robbed a state caravan. They killed thirty
six guards and Kissur put the caravan master's head on a stake, thought the
man was not guilty of anything except having children and an old mother that
he needed to support. Then, Kissur quarreled with the robbers because their
leader didn't want to step aside for him and he baked the leader in an earth
oven."
"But now," Bemish quipped, "Kissur doesn't have to rob caravans."
The prefect passed his hand over his cheek.
"There are, alas, dozens of people around Kissur. These people can
handle weapons, despise bribers and traders and think robbery to be the only
respectable profit source. Do you think that our country is poor due to
bribers and large taxes? Alas, our businessmen don't pay money to the
government, they, instead, pay money to the bandits who protect them from
the other bandits."
"Nobody," Bemish said, "asked me for the protection money."
"Exactly," the police prefect said.
Bemish wanted to grab the damn official by his neck and ask him whether
he was hinting that Kissur was in charge of the capital criminals. He,
however, thanked him for the signature and left. Although, Kissur did take
him to one of the city's most famous thief's taverns and he was welcome
there - Bemish learned later that if he ambled in this tavern without a
pass, he wouldn't have just been killed there - the tavern's guests would
have been fed his body in a soup - that was their cute way of getting rid of
the corpses.
That day, Bemish was in the finance ministry, at Shavash's. Entering
his office, he stumbled upon a pale upset man, dressed in standard clothing
but having soft Weian manners.
Shavash led him into the garden, where fountains and birds chirped, and
ordered a table with appetizers. Somehow the conversation unnoticeably
drifted to Idari, Kissur's wife. Shavash said that if not for Idari, Kissur
would have smashed his head long time ago.
"He loves her a lot," Shavash said, sighing. Three months ago, he
feasted the people at her naming day, and he spent three million."
He paused and added.
"Where do you think Kissur gets so much money if he doesn't take bribes
and doesn't do any business?"
"It's the tax police business and not mine, to know where he gets the
money," Bemish said. "And it's the sovereign's business, since he bequests
him an oil well or a manor every month."
Shavash waved his hand and started drinking tea. In five minutes, he
suddenly said.
"Do you know the man who left just before you came in? He is the Damass
insurance company director. It was robbed yesterday. They took twenty
million dinars in cash."
Bemish was surprised - newspapers published nothing about the robbery.
"Why did they have so much money in cash?" Bemish inquired.
"That's exactly the problem," Shavash sighed. "That's the question, who
is the company going to pay such a sum of money to - on a holiday evening?"
He paused.
"It will not appear in the newspapers. But the company was indeed
robbed."
"Will it appear to the police?"
"Yes," Shavash said, "since our police - if asked - will not inquire
why the company needed this money."
Bemish finished his coffee and asked.
"Listen, Shavash, are you trying to tell me that Kissur robs banks at
nights or that you, at least, will do your best to convince the sovereign of
it?"
"Come on, Mr. Bemish," the official was taken aback, "why did you..."
And suddenly he tousled his hair. "He is a madman! If he is passing a house
on fire, he will rush inside to get a child out and, if he is passing a
house that's not burning, he will set it aflame."
Bemish bit his lip. The official was lying gently and consciously but
he was correct on one point - Kissur despised bankers unflappably and he
would approve of a bank robber. The words "order," "debt," and "commitment
to the sovereign" were never far from his lips but Bemish knew perfectly
well, that this adherent of order lived his life in such a way that he far
outperformed any anarchist and rebel buff. Kissur wouldn't rob a bank for
money but the sovereign's favorite could easily take the money for fun and
throw it in the next canal.
In the evening, when Bemish dropped by the hotel, yearning for the food
of his childhood and hoping to get something other than a marinated
jellyfish or a guinea pig burger, somebody called him. Bemish turned around
and recognized Richard Giles and another Richard - MacFarlein - the IC
people.
"Drop it," Giles said.
"What?"
"Drop this project. You won't get anything out of it, anyway. Do
something else - build the business center instead of Kaminsky."
Bemish felt his face paling with rage. It looked like Giles has already
picked up the local officials' manners.
"I," Bemish said, "have invested too much in this business to just drop
it."
"How much have you invested," Giles smiled. "IC will pay your
expenses."
"How is that? Since when do the private companies pay the competitors'
expenses?"
"You will not win this auction," Giles said.
Here, McFarlein spoke softly.
"Mr. Bemish," he said, "why do you need this planet? Bribers,
criminals, heretics, zealots, and now, terrorists. Have you heard that
yesterday an Earthman was shot in Chakhar - he owned several plants. By the
way, the Chakhar governor's son did the shooting - a Sorbonne graduate, an
anarcho-communist or something like that. Another lad, an Earthman, was with
him... "We will instigate a full-scale terror against the Earth
exploitators, weed the bribers out and build the Crystal Palace on Weia
afterwards, and erect two monuments in front of the palace - for Karl Marx
and for the sovereign Irshahchan."
Bemish stared at him dumbfounded. "Uh-huh," a thought passed his mind,
"isn't it the same lad who came with Ashidan?"
And Giles cast a transparent eye and delivered.
"Yeah. Aren't you afraid to be shot by a heretic, a local or an
imported one?"
Bemish took Giles by a button and said.
"Listen, Giles, have you seen how Kissur casts a spear?"
"What does a spear have to do with it?" Giles was astonished.
"Kissur just casts a spear and the spear runs through a hefty birch all
the way. And today one guy told me that I should keep away from Kissur since
he robbed caravans and another hinted that I should keep away from Kissur
since he robbed banks. And though Kissur doesn't rob banks - I am sure, you
know, that if I pass our conversation to Kissur, and I'll do it, and I am
killed afterwards - then Kissur will kill you, Mr. Giles and you, Mr.
McFarlein. And he will assuredly kill you - nobody has heard yet about
Kissur wanting to kill somebody and failing."
Giles stepped back. Clearly, he didn't like all that much the words
about the spear and the birch.
Richard Giles walked upstairs to his room still under the impression
from the conversation in the hall. Whistling through his teeth, he dialed
the personal Shavash's line number - no secretaries - and, in two seconds,
he said in the receiver.
"This son of a bitch, Bemish - are you still going to admit him to the
auction?"
"I guarantee you," Shavash replied, "that this man is absolutely
harmless. Everything will happen accordingly to our plan."
"Harmless?" Giles screamed. "Do you know that half of his inquires on
Earth deal with IC? Do you know what he told Kissur?"
"I know," Shavash said ironically, "if I am not mistaken, you got the
taped conversation from me."
"Damn it! Yes, that was you. Anyway, do you think that's fine? What if
Kissur repeats these words to the sovereign? Where will we be then?"
"What do you want?"
"Take action."
"I will not take any action," Shavash said, "causing your newspapers to
write that the Empire is an unsafe place for foreign investors. If you take
such an action, you will not get even the tiniest piece of Assalah, not even
the size of a melon seed. Have I made myself clear?"
"Very clear," Giles muttered.
"You have no reasons to be nervous," Shavash said.
"No reasons? What if he just buys the damn company?"
"You will have to offer a bit more for the shares. Nine point one
dinar, at least. You have to agree that I just can't give the company away
to an investor that paid twice less for it. Everything has a limit."
"Son of a bitch," Giles said, slamming the receiver down. "He is just
using this Bemish to squeeze more money out of us. Nine point one! How can I
get a clearance for this money?"
"No problem," his companion said. "We can use an alternative approach
and deflate his ego meanwhile."
"Have you heard, what he said?"
"I heard it. I said - a totally alternative approach. Who finances this
Bemish guy? Trevis..."
Bemish left the hotel for the city. He spent some time in the temple
that he had visited with Kissur and descended to the tavern. A young man met
him in the tavern.
The young man offered to sell him twenty thousand Assalah shares at six
hundred a piece.
They bargained a bit and Bemish bought the shares for five hundred
eighty.
Bemish silently pulled the checkbook out and tore of a check that was
already filled with the correct number. The young man looked at him
respectfully and said.
"How did you know what price we would agree on?"
Bemish grinned. He had three checkbooks in his pockets and all of them
had the first check filled out - the other two checks Bemish would feed to
the garbage burner in an hour.
Bemish signed the check and gave it to the youth.
"Would you like to eat?" Bemish asked.
"I'd rather go."
"Hold on. How did you get the shares?"
"They are not mine, they belong to my uncle."
"How did your uncle get them?"
"He bought them."
"Why did he buy these shares in particular?"
"He bought a lot of securities."
"Why did he decide to sell them?"
"He needs money urgently. He got sent to prison."
"Why?"
The youth pointed at his basket.
"Because of the Assalah shares?"
"The investigator was asking him about these shares at the
interrogation. He hinted my uncle that he would let him go if my uncle gives
the shares to a higher official that would like to acquire them."
"Shavash?"
"Don't say it out loud. It works this way, Mr. Earthman - while a word
is in your mouth - you are its master, and when the word is out of your
mouth - it is your master."
"Why didn't your uncle give the shares to the official?"
"He went nuts, when he heard it," the youth said. "He said that he
would give these shares to a man that can kick the official in the butt."
"He could sell them cheaper, then."
"No. The jailers take too much. Good food in the jail costs more than
in the best restaurant, you know. Also, very strict orders concerning my
uncle have been given and the jailers charge him a higher price for being
benevolent."
"Oh, well," Bemish said. "It could be worse, two million for half a
percent."
The youth hesitated.
"It's actually," he said, "no more than twenty five hundredth of a
percent."
"Whaaat?!"
"Don't you know that? Half a year ago, when the share price was lower
than the moon in a well, Shavash secretly issued additional shares and
distributed them among his friends."
"Secret shares?!!"
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, this is first time in my life when I stumbled upon this
particular type of securities manipulation. And how many shares have been
issued?"
"I don't know. Some people say that it was a million and a half, some
people say that it was two million."
"Who says that? Where could I find this out?"
"Promise not to refer to my uncle's name."
"I don't know his name, how can I refer to it?"
"Still, promise it."
"Ok."
"I think that the Assalah district chief judge has these shares and
knows a lot."
Bemish returned to Kissur's villa late at night. He almost always
stopped there now when he visited the capital. He wanted to see Idari more
often.
A phone call woke Bemish in the middle of the night.
"Yes?"
"Terence?"
Bemish almost jumped up. The LSV director was talking to him from
Earth.
"We have a great offer for you," Trevis said, "the Union Disk company.
They make laser disks. Get here. It can be bought."
"I am working on Assalah."
"It's not a promising deal. We will not finance it."
Bemish fell apart inside.
"Ronald! You guaranteed it..."
"We will pay you the forfeit."
"I don't need the forfeit, I need Assalah."
"Get back to Earth," Trevis said, "and we will talk about Union Disk."
"What should I do with the Assalah shares? I bought 17%!!!"
"Sell them. It's your profession."
"If you don't finance this deal, I will find another company."
"You will not find another company, Terence, because no other company
lets you on their doorstep. You are nothing, Terence. You are a greenmailer
with twenty million dollars in your pocket. We made you. Nobody else needs
you. You are a financial pirate. I will be waiting for you tomorrow in my
office, at fifteen thirty. If you don't get stuck in traffic, you will make
it."
And Ronald Trevis put the receiver down.
Bemish turned the light on, put the clothes on and sat at the table. He
sat there for a while, till he heard the door creaking. Bemish turned around
- Kissur and Khanadar the Dried Date walked in. Khanadar looked quite
dashing in black laced pants and a brocade barbarian jacket. Kissur had a
grey suit and a tie on.
"Hey," Kissur said, "it's fantastic that you are not asleep. We decided
to get some kicks in a pub. Let's go."
Bemish was silent.
"What has happened to you, Terence? You look like a fly in insect
spray!"
"I am screwed," Bemish said. "Trevis refuses to finance the deal."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I don't know where Shavash got such powerful
connections."
"I see. What are you going to do?"
"I am going to sell the shares. I don't have any other choice."
"Are you going to sell them at the higher price than you bought them
at?"
"Naturally... I hold a large block. I can make IC's life hard if it
doesn't buy it at the price I want. If I, for instance, appeal IC's actions
in an international arbiter court, it will get into one hell of a
trouble..."
"It's called greenmail, right?" Kissur specified.
"Yes."
"Shavash was right, then," Kissur said.
"How dare you!" Bemish shouted, leaping up - and he saw Kissur's
contorted face in front of him and the white knuckles on his fist. Bemish
managed to duck the first punch. The second one threw him off the chair and
to the floor. Bemish somersaulted and bounced back on his feet, the Kissur's
boot square tip missed his ear by a centimeter.
Bemish had a chance of holding his own against Kissur but Khanadar the
Dried Date was also in the office.
"Dumb jerk," Bemish screamed getting in a fighting stance but here
Khanadar grabbed him by the elbows. At the next moment, Kissur's knee
collided with Bemish's groin; Kissur turned and kicked Bemish in the ear
with the same leg. The Earthman collapsed to the floor. Kissur sat atride
him and started to choke him.
"Haven't I told you," Kissur hissed sitting astride the expiring
Earthman, "that I would kill you?"
Bemish grunted and hissed striving to say something. Khanadar
approached and stood next to them.
"Let him go for a second," Khanadar said, "let him admit that he wanted
to cheat us from the very beginning. He thinks it's a planet he can take a
good crap at."
Kissur grinned and loosened up the clench. Bemish lay like a worm on a
garden path.
"Idiot," the financier coughed, "I wanted to buy Assalah."
An atrocious kick with a boot in the ribs silenced him.
"Again."
"I wanted to buy Assalah. Trevis was ready to finance the deal. I don't
know why he refused. He was browbeaten."
Another kick followed, this time it was the groin.
"Liar! Trevis didn't refuse anything. You were playing your favorite
game! You took us for worms, didn't you?"
"I wanted to buy Assalah. Trevis was browbeaten."
"Who?"
"Shavash."
"Yeah? Why wasn't it IC?"
"IC has headquarters in an Arkansas dog's kernel. Their balls are too
small to push Trevis around. They should buy a new fax machine first."
"Why is Shavash afraid of you?"
"Shavash wants a buyer who will blink at all his frauds. It was not a
company - they were just pumping the budget money into private pockets! Last
year Shavash secretly issued more bonds! I think that this goes against even
the bizarre local securities regulations."
"What is "secret bond issue?"
"I don't know. I have never stumbled upon such a financial product as a
secretly issued bond in all my life. But, basically, it means that Shavash
re-divided the company accordingly to his wishes - he gave his friends more
and he devalued the stocks belonging to his enemies or bystanders."
"What about the state's share?"
"It depends on how many additional shares the state obtained."
"He is lying through his teeth," Khanadar said. "They would have
arranged it with Shavash about thieving. He was going to cheat us from the
very beginning."
"No!"
"All right," Kissur said. "I will believe you but only with one
condition. You will sell the company shares at the same price you bought
them."
"No."
Kissur grinned and took one of the swords hanging in the room from a
prop. He got it out of the sheath and pushed its triangular tip in Bemish's
throat.
"Yes, or I will kill you."
Bemish licked his lips. He didn't doubt that Kissur would kill him.
It's stupid. Terence Bemish, a successful financier, half-crook half-genius,
had never considered ending his life in a huge city manor of an Empire
ex-minister - in the manor, where not a single servant would ever blurt out
anything about his fate or, to the opposite, all the servants would swear
that Bemish left the manor gate whole and unhurt... Nobody would ever prove
anything. Even Shavash would not kill him. Not because he minded killing,
but because he was a rational man and he clearly would not want Weia to be
declared a place where foreign investors were found with their throats
cut... Nothing is cheaper than hiring a killer. But Shavash didn't kill
Bemish, he went for Trevis instead - it was an order of magnitude more
difficult and expensive...
"If I don't sell the shares with a rake-off," Bemish said, "I'll go
bankrupt. They will point their fingers at me. I will not do what you want."
"Take your knife, Kissur, and cut his balls off, " Khanadar said, "it
doesn't befit you to dirty your noble sword by a money-grubber."
"You wanted that from the very beginning, didn't you?"
"No, I wanted to buy Assalah."
"How much do you need to buy Assalah?"
"If only half of my potential creditors fulfill their promises without
Trevis, I'll need five million."
"I will find this money," Kissur said, throwing the sword back in the
sheath and he left.
The Sixth Chapter
Where company AC declares its real name while Mr. Shavash mentions
several unexpected thoughts about democracy's drawbacks.
The announcement of the investment auction for the acquisition of the
state-owned block of shares was published in the government's White Herald a
day before the application deadline. The announcement mandated that the
auction participants should turn in a deposit of 6% of projected investment
and should demonstrate reliable proof of being able to fulfill the assumed
financial obligations.
Trevis hadn't called Bemish since - it was below his dignity. On the
other hand, the corporate financing department head called and told Bemish
that he didn't need to hurry back to Trevis' headquarters since he wouldn't
be received anyway.
The next day, Bemish stepped out of a luxurious limo that arrived at
the ministry of finance, formerly first minister Rush's palace. A crowd was
already there, including the local financiers who, having heard about the
Assalah fray, were willing to risk taking part in the auction. Kissur
appeared in the registration hall at almost the same time as Bemish.
Shavash, the director of the company offered for tender, ignored Bemish
utterly. He was talking to an Earth journalist. The subject of the talk was
the importance of foreign investors - only they were able to force Weian
companies to correspond to international audit standards and raise Empire
finances to a new level.
Bemish silently watched the official registering his application and
entering the necessary financial contrivances into the computer. What if
this bastard makes an error and Bemish won't be allowed to participate on
technical grounds.
The official finished the registration, shoved an embossed sheet with
the application in the printer and, having printed everything, carried it to
Shavash for a signature. Shavash, without being distracted from the
progressive interview, signed everything.
Bemish moved away to a small table where, by Weian custom, fruits and a
special bowl constantly filled with peach juice stood. The juice filled the
bowl through a special tube and symbolized the everlasting plenty. Bemish
poured some juice in a cup and here Giles approached him.
"Can I ask you where you got the money?" Giles enquired.
"The investment company Plana offered me credit."
"What kind of company is it?"
"It's a company located on Gera," Bemish replied gloating.
"A company located on Gera? Why not a company located in a devil's
arse? When did it come to being, yesterday?"
Bemish looked at his watch.
"To be precise, it came to being today, three hours ago."
Meanwhile, Shavash finished his enlightened interview and led Kissur
aside.
"Did you," he asked, "loan Bemish money?"
"Am I a usurer?" Kissur was offended, "to loan money? It was a gift."
"You were born of a Barsharg goat!" Shavash swore. "This is the last
you'll see of it."
"Let's see," Kissur said, "who wins the auction."
Here, another Earth journalist approached Shavash and the company
director started repeating how only a scrupulous foreign investor could save
Weian economics.
By the evening, the bored journalists, hanging out at the cafe, could
record in their notebooks that three companies were interested in the
state's offer - Bemish's ADO, IC Corporation, and Rusby and C - were
offering to buy the shares out first and to finance the construction out of
the galactic company resources afterwards. Five or six large investment
banks were also interested. They were not going to buy Assalah shares
themselves. They mostly offered to the government various alternatives of
convertible bonds that these banks would distribute to the Galactic
investors - the bonds would be converted, at some date, to Assalah shares
now belonging to the state. Such a large number of investment bank aspirants
had surprised Bemish at first but he was told later that actually his modest
person was the source. The players on the fund market ferreted out that
Terence Bemish was going to buy some blip-blop limited in some banana
republic, decided that it had to be a swell deal and followed him like the
honey gatherers follow a bee.
A phone call from Kissur woke Bemish up at 3am.
"Hello, Terence. The investment auction is cancelled. Two hours, after
the applications had been submitted, Shavash sold 51% of state-owned Assalah
shares to IC Company at five and a half dinars per share."
"What do you mean sold?" Bemish choked.
The line went off.
Fifteen minutes later, a car stopped under the hotel windows and Kissur
jumped out of it.
"Dress," Kissur said. "We are going to the sovereign."
"Why?"
At this point, the phone rang again. Bemish picked up the receiver.
"Terence, this is Shavash. Call your complaint off."
"What complaint?"
"Don't pretend. Call off the complaint that you wrote to the sovereign
requesting to arrest me for bribery."
"Have you lost your mind? I've never written this crap!"
"Terence, if you go to the sovereign you will be squashed flat. You can
forget about working in a bank - they won't hire you as a cashier in a
supermarket. Got it?"
"I haven't..."
Shavash slammed the receiver.
"I signed the complaint for you, Bemish," Kissur said. "The sovereign
will examine it at this morning audience."
Bemish grabbed his head.
"Oh, my God, Kissur are you nuts? If you don't have mercy for me, have
mercy for your own country!"
"I have mercy for my country," Kissur said. "You explained to me, what
IC is yourself. They will just rob us and that's it. Or, were you bulling