life and death power over money in this country.
"Who was the man who visited the manor with Ashidan?" Shavash asked
suddenly. "Did you recognize him?"
"No," Bemish came to his senses.
Shavash silently opened the folder he had with him and extracted a
newspaper article. The article showed the late Ashidan's companion and the
title announced, "The main suspect in the Menszel trading exchange center
escapes in an unknown direction."
Bemish hadn't heard about the explosion and he leafed through the text
quickly. The explosion was indeed a small one - two or three doors cracked
and a computer had its brains blown out. The blast was small because only
one explosive device performed - a non-fragmentation demolition shell with
ten grams of trinex. A case with the equivalent of three kilograms of
dynamite was next to it but, miraculously, it didn't detonated. If the case
had exploded, the victim count would have been in tens or, even hundreds.
"They left the villa," Bemish said, "the same day."
"Ashidan has nasty companions, " Shavash said. "Though this guy is a
friend of Kissur's."
"Pardon my curiosity, Mr. Shavash - it's surprising how you know
everything. You know even what happens at a villa two hundred kilometers
away from the capital. Are you a vice-minister of finance or of police?"
"I am simply a rich man," the small official said. "And a rich man is
not the man who owns a personal villa or a personal spaceship. It is a man
who owns a personal jail."
"A personal jail? Is that a joke?"
Shavash smiled.
"Would you like to see it? I can organize a trip."
"One way?"
"Never joke about jail, Mr. Bemish," calmly and coldly the Empire
official said. They were silent for a moment and, then, Bemish said,
"How much is IC going to pay for the stocks? I can pay more?"
"It doesn't matter, Terence, whether you pay more or less for the
stocks," Shavash grinned. "Imagine, that you pay for the stocks more but
your application is not set up correctly."
"How much does a correct application cost?"
In the uneven light by the lamps outside the window, the small
official's raised eyebrows were easy to see.
"Come on," Shavash smiled.
"Listen," Bemish said quietly and clearly, "a fantastic sum given to
you by IC was mentioned to me. I don't know whether or not it's true. I am
not going to offer you this kind of money. If, however, I buy the company
and you buy the stock options, in three years, your shares will be worth
eighteen times more than any of IC's pitches."
Shavash only smiled.
"You know perfectly well what IC is, Shavash. And you know that it will
bankrupt Assalah, and you know why it will do it."
Shavash had a perfect composure but Bemish noticed surprise or, even,
horror passing in his eyes.
Here, the Gera envoy with another man entered the hall and Bemish bowed
and walked away to the balcony.
Giles sat at a corner table on the balcony. A glass of palm vodka,
mixed with mango juice, stood next to him and an open magazine, that Giles
was probably reading, was under the glass.
"Good day, Mr. Bemish! They say that you already own half the Assalah
with a cute villa on top?"
Giles was drunk. He lamented probably that half the Assalah didn't
belong to him.
"I haven't asked for this gift," Bemish said, "and, anyway, I found
myself in an idiotic position."
"Especially, since you are not going to buy the company anyway, are
you?"
Bemish was tempted to empty the glass of vodka in the Giles face.
"Let me introduce you to our executive director," Giles said lazily,
"James McFergson."
Bemish turned around - behind him, a stout short man with unusually
lively eyes and a mole on a pug nose was smiling and extending amicably his
hand.
"Overjoyed to meet you," MacFergson declared, shaking Bemish's hand. It
really looked, as if he was overjoyed to meet Bemish, and, as if no Bemish
existed in this world, he would fall dead with sorrow.
Here, the stage in the garden under the balcony was lightened, the
harmonious sounds of flutes and lute-shells poured forth and a performance
started below - in not too prudish dresses, four beauties were dancing a
complex dance with swords. Quite a crowd surrounded the stage quickly and,
when the performance finished, a guest -likely drunk- climbed the boards to
kiss the dancing girls.
"Who is this bloke?" Bemish enquired.
"The Adana envoy, " McFergson answered. "The envoy fits the country."
"An Earthman?" Bemish said with surprise.
"They are no longer Earthmen," McFergson smirked, "the planet Adana,
for your information, was settled by SD Warheim. So, Warheim brought there
several dozen thousand unemployed people - subsidizing their one-way
tickets. In just a short while, the unemployed realized that there were a
lot of jobs on Adana and no unemployment benefits. So, they all screamed
that it was slavery in disguise and demanded that the company transport them
back to Earth. When the company offered the opportunity to earn money for
the transportation fees on their own, they called it Earth imperialism and
declared independence. However, I heard that their current President makes
them work way harder than the company did and in concentration camps rather
than free."
"Mr. Bemish knows that," Giles interrupted his colleague. "Just when
the trouble started, he bought United Ferrous shares and sold them later at
triple fold price when the new Adana government transferred all of Warheim's
concessions to United."
Several people from the group of Weian officials noiselessly approached
the conversing Earthmen. Among them, Bemish noticed Jonathan Rusby with the
smiling Gera envoy.
"Mr. Bemish has also provided a great assistance to Andjey Gerst. In my
opinion, your decision to create a Gera-oriented portfolio investment fund
made many financiers pay attention to Gera economics."
"What's so bad about it?" Bemish enquired irritably.
"Gerst is a dictator."
"And how exactly does it show?"
"So far, it shows, " Giles said, "in him attracting high level
scientists and advancing huge loans to local companies for the newest
technologies development - our government is forced to spend this money on
social expenses. And Gera banks are reputed to be the most reliable in the
Galaxy, though not due to the government protection but rather due to the
very strict laws specifying the total personal responsibility of the
management."
"Whose nails do they pull out?"
"Nobody's."
"And where is the dictatorship?
"Eh," Giles said, "in your opinion, a dictatorship is when they pull
the people's nails out and talk stupidly... Only a weak dictatorship pulls
the people's nails out, it's not a dangerous dictatorship, it will expire of
its own accord, it's doomed because when they pull the people's nails out,
the people don't work as much and the less they work, the more nails they
have to pull out."
"Do I understand you correctly," Bemish inquired, "that any state,
where they don't pull your nails out, is a strong dictatorship? I think you
just envy that Gera is better off than your own eh...?"
"Australia," Giles said, "I am an Australian. I understand you, though.
You have better opinion of Gera than of your own country because Gera's Dow
index grows faster."
He stood up.
"It's a stupid argument," he said, "I've been to Gera and I could give
you hundred proofs that its Leader is thousand times more dangerous than all
the psychopaths... Why don't you think about this - the Gera army's total
military capabilities are approaching those of Earth and all the other
Federation of Nineteen members' armies combined, and every time, when
somebody in the Federation Assembly proposes to boost the defense spending,
the owners of the accounts in the stable Gera banks start screaming that we
should not spend money on war, we should spend the money on social
assistance."
Kissur came in after midnight - by his looks, he spent the evening in a
more interesting way - in a pub. He ran into Bemish on a garden path, next
to a grotto that, due to an evident reason, Bemish needed to visit in
private.
Kissur slapped Bemish on the shoulder and noted.
"I haven't expected to meet you at this zoo! So, trader, haven't you
yet changed your mind about buying Assalah?"
"I will buy Assalah," Bemish said, "no matter what. At least, so that
Giles wouldn't get it."
"What's the difference between Giles or you buying it?" Bemish was
silent for a moment. Kissur was clearly drunk and Bemish wasn't a picture of
sobriety either.
"The difference? I guess, I will explain to you, Kissur, what Giles is
doing. Giles represents a company that nobody knows anything about. He says
that a private financier stays hidden behind the IC initials and he is ready
to invest ten billion in this business. That's bullshit. There are no such
investors."
"Why is he doing that?"
This is chicanery. Whoever is behind Giles gets Assalah and issues the
new shares. Your planet desperately lacks the space infrastructure, it's
generally a state property, and private spaceport investments should be
fantastically profitable. The stocks prices rise through the ceiling, IC
makes billions on the price differential and gets out. Shavash gets
millions, IC gets billions and the Federation investors with the Empire
nationals get a fly speck. I spent this week making enquires about IC. It is
a phantom. This is a trickster company that had a couple of projects on some
planets that nobody has heard anything about, - and these planets had been
expelled from the United Nations. A planet that's not a UN member - from a
financial viewpoint - Kissur, is a planet where the public companies'
accounting doesn't have to follow the Federal financial committee standards.
They have a well developed system - they bribe an official, issue the
stocks, advertising their "connections to the government", peddle these
stocks to fools through a phony company, the stocks grow, the company cleans
the cream off, and then - kabloom! Got it?
"Got it," Kissur said. "I got it, that our companies have a merry
choice - they can choose between a disreputable greenmailer and a company
like IC."
Kissur left soon, having loud-mouthed the Federation envoy and publicly
promised some official to set the dogs at him, "If you, bastard, demonstrate
your disdain to the sovereign again by parking your ill-gotten with bribes
Rolls-Royce next to the Nut Pavilion."
He did, however, invite Bemish for a dinner at Red Dog restaurant the
day after tomorrow.
The next day, Bemish returned to the city and went, first thing, to DJ
securities. The flower pot with summer hyacinths, right in front of the
office entrance, was bent in by bulky jeep tires and people bustled through
the wide open office doors like ants in a smashed anthill.
"What's going on?" Bemish inquired from Krasnov coming out to meet him.
"Tax police visited us," Krasnov said. "They locked up all the
paperwork."
"What laws did you break?"
"You should better ask what laws we didn't break! What laws can you
avoid breaking in a country where the regulations are made not with the goal
of paying the taxes to the state but with the goal of paying the hush money
to the tax collectors!"
"Haven't you tamed the tax collectors?"
"We? Come on, Bemish, every month... They apologized - we wouldn't do
it but we were ordered to..."
"Who exactly signed the order?"
"A man named Danisha. He is a proticle?"
Krasnov took a battered yellowish newspaper from a desk drawer and gave
it to Bemish. The newspaper was local and Bemish was only able to make out
Shavash's picture and he was barely able to get the paper's name - Red Star.
On the picture, Shavash appeared from the waist up, presenting an outrageous
sight with a girl, dressed only in a band, coquettishly tied around her
neck.
"What is it about?"
"It is about the Assalah company investment auction, where a corrupted
and lewd official Shavash settled with a foreign shark Bemish to sell him
Assalah for the price of a rotten melon."
Bemish took the newspaper with him and, in half an hour, he drove
through Kissur's mansion gate. The majordomo wordlessly walked him to the
living room; excited voices were coming from it. Bemish entered. The voices
stopped. A very beautiful thirty-year-old woman, with the eyes, black as
boysenberries, and a black braid tied around her head, rose to meet him. On
the coach, dismayed Shavash pressed himself against the pillows. Shavash
hurled the bundle of papers, he held in his hands, to the floor and said,
"Let me introduce you - Terence Bemish - the house mistress." Bemish
realized that Mrs. Idari, Kissur's wife, was in front of him and he bowed
awkwardly. The woman laughed. Her laughter was akin to a silver bell.
"Where is Kissur?" Bemish asked stupidly.
"Kissur is not here," the official answered. "He will fly in tomorrow."
Bemish suddenly felt himself blushing furiously.
"I ... I will go... I didn't know..."
"Please stay," Idari said politely, "I will leave. It is not befitting
for a woman to stay too long with a man her husband hasn't introduced to
her."
She bowed and left - only the black braid tied around her head
glistened in the door. Bemish was looking after her and blinking piteously.
Then, he turned to the official.
"Sit down, " Shavash waved his hand, "sit down and eat. Every time this
obnoxious majordomo sees me with his mistress, he would even bring a peddler
to the room."
The peddler comparison didn't please Bemish.
Shavash took him by his hand and walked him to a veranda where a round
table covered for two people stood next to the gold-gilded rails. A plump
maid was already standing next to a silver hand washing jar. Bemish washed
his hands and dried them carefully with an embroidered towel and, when he
turned around, the servants were already loading on the table a flat leather
dish with an aromatic mound of chopped steaming meat.
Having propped himself on the pillows, Shavash watched the Earthman.
"What is, "Shavash asked, "sticking out of your pocket?
"The Red Star article."
"Ahh," Shavash drawled. "These nutcases... Where did you get it, by the
way?"
"My broker showed it to me. Tax police busted him. A man named
Danisha."
Bemish got used to Shavash enough to be ready now for an ugly snub from
him. He could easily imagine Shavash smiling and saying, "Oh, Terence, what
should we do! The Earthmen allow themselves so much on Weia, it's scary!
These people had three different sets of books and didn't pay any taxes this
year. They can loose the license."
But Bemish didn't expect to see what happened next.
Shavash's eyebrows levitated in astonishment.
"What are you saying!" the small official said. "Verily, if you send an
idiot to bring you water, he will revert a spring to your house!"
He grabbed a T-phone off his belt.
"Danisha," Shavash started speaking in the receiver in several seconds,
"what happened to DJ securities?"
The receiver quacked.
"I'll show you three sets of books," Shavash screamed. "I'll show you
taking the license away! You will bring me the fine, they paid you,
personally. And you will bring me, what Giles paid you! You will bring it in
an hour or you can go away to Inissa as a cheese inspector in two hours."
Shavash threw the receiver down.
"Not convincing," Bemish said.
"I have nothing to do with it," Shavash snorted. "I just introduced
Danisha to this scoundrel of Giles."
"And the Red Sun article is not yours."
"Come on!" Shavash drawled. "That's disgusting sleaze. I would sue them
but I don't want to get my hands dirty."
"Well, this article came out just right for you. Now, you can refer to
the article to say, 'if I sell this company to Bemish, I will lose my
reputation."
Shavash shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't even want to listen to you, Terence. Red Star is the zealots'
newspaper. They tried to assassinate me twice."
"What zealots?"
"You saw them yourself while walking with Kissur - remember the iron
people show?"
Bemish shuddered slightly. As if it's not enough, that Shavash already
knew who and when anyone visited Kissur's villa in Assalah! What's he doing
- does he follow Bemish's every step?
"Where did this iron men story come from?"
"It was an old book," the finance vice-minister smiled, "with an iron
braggart story. There was a prophecy at the end of the book, that at the
world's end, plagues, hail and dishonest officials will come, and the iron
men will crawl out from the underground. I have to say that every time
rebellions or barbarian invasions happened in the Empire, the rebels were
thought to be the iron men. However, once the rebels took power, everybody
would immediately realize that they were not the iron men. As for the
Earthmen - you don't grab the power and don't hang your enemies. Can't you
be anybody else but the iron men?"
"The ones that crawl out from underground?"
"The ones that crawl out from the underground, eat children's brains,
and carry nar bewitched
halls, to inflict visions on them."
"And how many people believe it?"
"A lot of people," Shavash said, "peasants, officials, artisans. Hey, I
fired my secretary, Akhhar, because of that, right after our US tour."
Bemish finally realized that Shavash was making fun of him.
"Well," he said, smiling, "you secretary, having flown to Earth, is
unlikely to think that we crawled out of hell."
"My friend," Shavash said, "Akhhar just considers it to be an allegory,
the wisdom of our ancestors who possessed the hidden knowledge and warned us
about the danger. You see, when you talk about science, you either
understand how a nuclear reactor works, or you don't. A myth, meanwhile, is
capable of joining together the most different people's groups and minds. A
simple peasant understands the prophecy literally, while an educated man
interprets it metaphorically."
"And how," Bemish asked, "do the preachers understand the prophecy?"
"Oh, while talking to the authorities, they claim it is an allegory!
Are they idiots to admit that they know the real truth about the iron men?"
"It's incredible," Bemish muttered. "Can't you explain to your crazies
what's really going on?"
"It's impossible to explain to them, it's only possible to hang them. I
think, however, that if we start hanging people for believing Earthmen to be
demons, than you, the demons, will raise a horrible buzz."
Bemish lowered his head.
"Don't feel bad. These people have a special gift of quarrelling not
only with the state but also with each other. Take cars, for instance. One
sect will believes that cars don't exist, that they are demonic phantoms,
and that you are not moving in a car but rather are moved by a demonic
force. Another one believes that the ancestors themselves sent us the cars,
but the iron demons grabbed the gift on the way and used it illegally."
Shavash picked the newspaper up, waved it at Bemish's nose and said.
"I am explaining all this to you, Bemish, so that you understand how
difficult it would be for me to get an article published in Red Star, where,
on the top of it, they christen me," Shavash squinted slightly and started
translating the text, "a foul dung beetle, "a cockroach with a sack of gold
instead of the heart," and "the foam of sacrilege..."
Shavash paused for a moment and unexpectedly added.
"You know, what my conclusion from the article is?"
Bemish couldn't help but glance. The dirty article, as it has been
mentioned, was accompanied by the picture of Shavash naked and Bemish
imagined for a moment, what he would feel if he appeared on a newspaper page
in such a saucy way.
"My conclusion is that I should lose some weight. It's a shame of a
picture, don't you think so?"
Bemish was leaving the mansion when a dark skinned servant reported to
him, bowing.
"The mistress is expecting you in the Blooming Plums Gazebo."
Bemish walked into the garden. The woman that had withdrawn from the
room before the dinner was now walking on a white garden path, overcast with
sideways moon shadows, and the lace decorating her dress sleeves resembled
moon rays coiling around her wrists.
Bemish bowed shyly and said.
"Believe me, I am very sorry that you didn't dine with us."
"Men and women do not eat together," Idari objected. "Are you the
Earthman that has been buying Assalah via DJ securities?"
"You are informed surprisingly well," Bemish muttered abashedly,
realizing that the Idari's husband is unlikely to even know that DJ
securities exist.
"Well, if women eat separately from men," Idari smiled, "it doesn't
really mean that they don't know anything. Are you married?"
"I am divorced."
"Did your wife love you?"
"She loved my bank account."
Idari sat down on a bench in a fluid catlike motion and Bemish heard a
hydrangea bush rustle against her skirt. Idari gestured Bemish to sit next
to her.
"I appreciate everything you have done for my husband," Idari said.
"I haven't done anything for him," the Earthman objected, "while he has
done a lot for me."
"You are the first man from the stars that he made friends with. It's
so strange that this man belongs to Ronald Travis' circle."
And Bemish was again quite surprised by Idari's awareness.
"I thought he had Earthmen friends."
"Yes. People who throw bombs at the supermarkets and use drugs to
liberate themselves from the corrupting influence of the civilization."
Idari and Bemish sat very close to each other. The night had descended
already but the two moons shone powerfully like beacons and Bemish could
clearly see Idari's profile, a small head with the black braid wrapped
around the head and the hairpins glistening in the moonlight.
"My husband exerts a great influence on the Emperor," Idari continued,
"and you may exert a great influence on my husband. It would have been very
bad for my country, if Kissur had befriended, instead of you, the people he
had met two years ago on Earth."
Idari paused.
"What do you know of our history?"
Bemish flushed. His ignorance of everything related to Weian history
was practically absolute, it could only compare to his ignorance of Earth
history. If anything was of interest to him on this planet - it was the
budget deficit size or the central bank interest rate. The central bank
interest rate did not depend on history in any way.
"Is the name Arfarra familiar to you?"
Bemish faltered.
"He was the first minister..."
"He was the first minister twice. Once, before Earthmen. Second time,
after them. Once the Earthmen came to Weia, the Emperor appointed a man
named Nan as the first minister. Then, Nan was removed - with my husband's
help."
Bemish vaguely remembered the five-year-old scandal - since the scandal
took place on Earth, not on Weia. There was something about Kissur - the
Weian ex-first minister, hanging out on Earth. Or was it on Lann? Amidst
terrorists and drug abusers. A stolen car, drugs, a beaten policeman, the
arrest of a terrorist activity suspect, a scandal diligently stirred up by
somebody, and finally Kissur's statement that Nan was the main culprit in
the tragedy that happened after the hijacking of a military plane. This
statement played a part in the Earthman-minister resignation.
"Afterwards, a different premier and a different program of state
investment policy were instated. The taxes were high and the budget expenses
were huge. The only money left in the country was that in the state treasury
and in the banks with the highest officials as the stock holders. The
workers were not allowed to leave the companies they worked for and to
testify against their owners."
Idari grinned and added.
Shavash was, at that time, one of the most active supporters of the
state investments. He needed to clean his reputation up after his friendship
with Nan and he invented all the programs for the government, where money
just sank in the sand. Three tons of concrete were claimed where one ton of
concrete was used; five kilos of paint were reported where one kilo was
applied.
Concerning the laws that enslaved the workers, he wrote a memorandum
where he claimed, that the Weian way is different from the Galactic one,
since an owner doesn't exploit the workers as a hired cattle, but rather
takes fatherly life-long care of them. It should have ended with the
destruction of the country but it ended with a rebellion and the
government's resignation.
Then, Arfarra came in. He cut the state expenses down and rescinded the
employment laws. Meanwhile, my husband crushed the rebellions in the places
where the governors missed the old times.
Bemish almost didn't hear, what the woman was saying. The crossed light
bands from the two full breasted moons gleamed on the marble garden path and
silver bracelets like many-winged snakes entwined Idari's wrists, as thin as
ivy twigs.
"A bit later, Arfarra said to a man, named Van Leyven, that used to
invest a lot of money in Weia, "we are selling state constructions now, why
don't you buy Assalah?" - "I won't do that," Van Leyven said, "it's the most
disgusting of all Shavash's feeding troughs." - "Weian economics improved a
lot this year," Arfarra said, "but you used this year to freeze the
constructions, sell them to the state or get rid of the stocks via dummy
fronts. Why?" - Van Leyven thought for a bit and said. "I invested a lot of
money in Weia and incurred big losses. I staked it all and I lost. You let
the time slip by. The people lost their trust to the officials, the Earthmen
and the sovereign. You are old and sick, what will happen when you die?" -
"I've been dying for six years," Arfarra got angry, "will you buy Assalah or
not?" - "No." They parted then. Arfarra died the next day.
Bemish was now listening and holding his breath.
"My husband idolized Arfarra," Idari continued, "and it was extremely
difficult for me to persuade him not to take vengeance on Van Leyven outside
of Weia. He still had to leave Weia, since his death here would have been
certain, and he lost much more money than he had expected. I am saying this,
Mr. Bemish, so that you realized that profit and death walk closer to each
other on Weia, than they do on Earth. Especially if you buy Assalah and make
friends with Kissur."
Bemish returned to the hotel late at night. Dogs yapped far away in the
city, stars hung above the white temple and, in the next block, a sad
woman's voice was singing something accompanied by a flute.
Falling asleep, Bemish thought about the woman, with the black eyes and
the black braid wrapped around her head, and about the two people who had
lost their heads over that woman - Kissur and Shavash. He also thought about
Clyde Van Leyven; he knew a lot about this man, unlike the other actors of
the Idari's story. Since, Van Leyven was a billionaire and the financial
community watched his each step holding its breath. Unlike Idari, Bemish
knew that Van Leyven almost died half a year after the Weian events - the
brakes on his air cushioned seven-meter-long limo failed, the car broke
through the rail and dived in water from a twenty-meter-high bridge, the
driver drowned, the bodyguard broke his head on the front panel, and Van
Leyven miraculously survived. This story didn't hit the newspapers thanks to
Van Leyven's connections. And now Bemish was not sure that Kissur had held
on to his promise not to retaliate outside of Weia.
The Red Dog tavern was located in a less than prominent neighborhood.
Its entrance was gated by two snake gods entwining around two brass door
poles, brass lamps with sparkles swung under the planked ceiling, and the
wooden walls were decorated by a couple dozen signatures and crosses. The
signatures have been collected for the last twenty years and they belonged
to the most famous literate thieves of the current sovereign's rule. The
crosses belonged to the most famous illiterate thieves.
At least two people from this respectable circle sat in a corner
discussing their
crooked dealings and, upon Kissur's arrival, approached to greet him.
Kissur introduced them to Bemish. The first thief, a glum
golden-toothed middle aged handsome man extracted a business card out of his
pocket, where he was presented as some company's director, and assured
Bemish, that he would be happy to be of any service if Bemish ever needed
him.
Hence, both thieves, accompanied by their bodyguards, left in an
unknown direction. Kissur glumly mentioned that they were going to a meeting
with their competitors and, if they were apprehended, there would be one
less shoot out in the city.
"Apprehend them, then," Bemish suggested.
"Why? Let the spiders devour themselves."
Kissur and Bemish had just started on a suckling piglet, rising like a
soft white mountain from a savory sauce sea, when Kissur suddenly raised his
head - Kaminsky stood in front of him. The businessman had a somewhat
down-hearted look to him. He had a huge blue spot under his eye - like a
shaman painting himself before a divination- and his hand hung in a silk
sling.
"I came to say good-bye," Kaminsky said. "I am flying to Earth
tomorrow."
Kissur was looking at him silently.
Kaminski pushed a chair away and sat down.
"I was wrong," he said. "Out of all the Weian officials you are indeed
the only honest one. You didn't want a penny from me. Having returned, I'll
certainly tell all my friends, that there are two types of the Weian
officials - the officials who demand bribes from the Earthmen and use them
as pawns in their feuds and the one honest official who bathed me in a
swimming pool."
"You will also," Kissur said, "tell them that you are an innocent
victim of the dark machinations; that you wanted to buy land for twelve
millions but the officials persuaded you to buy it for a million and a half
with a knife at your throat."
"No," Kaminsky said.
I will not tell them what exactly has happened. But I wouldn't mind
telling you about it, ex-minister, to improve your economics education. I
arrive here and go to Khanida, "I would like to build a business center."
Khanida is politeness personified. He pours lavish praise all over me. He
has the utmost desire for future collaboration. He praises my unselfishness
and is so overwhelmed with it that he offers me the land not for twelve
million but for a million and a half. Reluctant to engage in doubtful
dealings, I refuse. Well! Twelve million it will be. Mr. Khanida is so
happy. He says that a base man cares about profit and an honorable man cares
about fairness. He sees both of us belonging to the honorable people ranks.
I start the construction and invest the money. Meanwhile, the land is still
not bought yet - they assure me - it's a pure formality. On a nice day, I
visit Mr. Khanida and he starts the million and a half talk again. I refuse
politely. Khanida shrugs his shoulders and becomes as cold as a frog. He
says that he is breaking the contract off. I lose it - come on, I've already
sunk big money in! For an answer, Khanida utters through clenched teeth
something about exploitators sucking on Weia's blood and liver. Then, I go
to Shavash, your dearest friend. He offers me... it's enough to say, Mr.
Kissur, that he offers me something similar but he wants twice more than
Khanida. I made a mistake here. I should've turned away and left. Screw the
expenses. But I felt bad about the lost money. I've already inhaled enough
of your stink. I saw that Khanida would do what he promised and I signed the
contract. My mistake was that I forgot about Shavash, who offered me the
same deal as Khanida. Shavash was irritated that Khanida didn't share the
loot with him. Naturally, the local customs code didn't allow him to rat on
me directly. And so, having chosen a right moment, he tells you the story
and you raise the buzz! And this buzz reverberates in Shavash's soul with
coins jingling pleasantly. And the Empire is left empty-handed again, and
Shavash is left in the full confidence that Khanida will give him half the
money next time, just to avoid the problems!
Kissur got the checkbook out of his pocket and asked.
"How much money did you give to Khanida?"
Kaminsky was astounded, and then, laughed.
"I don't need your money."
"Money is the only thing the Earthmen need. That's why the Earthmen's
destiny is suffering, since money not spent for friends and alms brings
trouble."
"Where do you get money, Kissur, eh? You don't trade, you don't take
bribes and you don't rob passers-by! Where does the money come from? The
Emperor just gives it to you, doesn't he? And it doesn't cost anything to
the Emperor - when the treasury runs out of money, he invents another tax.
You call a man who sells and buys a criminal, and a man who collects the
taxes for you, the cornerstone of the state! That's why you won't like it if
a parliament forms and only parliament can authorize the taxes collected in
this country."
"Do you want to swim again?"
Kaminsky took heed.
"No," he said bitterly, "I don't want to swim. You almost killed me
that time. Since you don't have any arguments other than swimming, I would
rather be silent. But I will advise all my friends on Earth and, by the way,
Terence Bemish, sitting next to you, never, under no circumstances, do any
business on Weia since nothing will come out of it besides debasement and
shame. Believe me, Mr. Kissur - I could still patch everything together. But
I am grateful to you that I lost this money; I recalled again that I have
honor and self-respect."
He turned and walked away.
Kissur looked at Bemish.
"Well," Kissur asked, "is he correct?"
"Yes," Bemish said.
"Will you leave?"
"No," Bemish shook his head "I won't leave. You, however, should."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
"Too late," Kissur replied. "I applied to the Federation Military
Academy. They didn't accept me. I am not interested in any other place in
your Galaxy, full of worms like a year-old fig."
The next day, Bemish flew to the villa, where several members of his
team and two LSV employees arrived. They had a simple task - to develop the
contract's financial shell by the week's end.
The bankers worked day and night. In two days, a helicopter arrived,
carrying a cheerful and slightly drunk Kissur and a much more sober Shavash.
Kissur barged in the central hall where the bankers, having pulled an
all-nighter, were finishing the IPO prospectus.
"You are not asleep, too!" Kissur heartened. "Where did you ditch the
girls? Let's drink!"
And he banged a jar of expensive Inissa wine on the table next to the
printer, spitting out the financial projections. At this point, generally
phlegmatic Welsey, scared to hell by Kissur, demonstrated a true greatness
of the spirit.
"Kissur," he said, "I will drink with you only after you help me to
calculate the cash flow in the company if the embargo on the Gera trade is
enacted and the cargo flow decreases correspondingly."
Kissur was astounded. He was not able to calculate cash flows.
"C-cads!" he muttered drunkenly.
Bemish found him a girl in the village and returned to the office,
where Shavash was waiting for him. Shavash sat in the armchair next to a
window looking thoughtfully at the neglected garden.
"What's your price," Shavash asked.
"Eight fifty five for a share."
"Thirty four million total," Shavash noted. "What are your investment
obligations?"
"Sixty million. I am going to land the first ships in six months after
the construction starts."
"You don't have any experience building spaceports, do you?"
"I have experience involving professionals and setting up financial
contracts, Mr. Shavash. This company should start bringing in cash flow in
less than a year, otherwise it will go bankrupt."
"How are you going to finance the deal?"
"The banks provide ten million out of ninety four. This is a ten
percent loan, with the company property as collateral. Eighty four million
are financed through the high interest bonds issued by my company ADO and
placed by LSV on the intergalactic exchange market. Approximately four
million belong to me and my friends."
"So, you risk only four million of your money out of ninety four."
"I risk the other people's money and my own head." Shavash reclined in
the armchair.
"As far as I know, it's a standard way for buying the companies with
existing cash flow used to pay interest. While you are buying a hole that
you need to fill with piles of money."
"We will try to construct the contract's financial shell in such a way
that we won't pay anything this year. We are planning to issue some
zero-coupon bonds with a two year maturity time. It means," Bemish
explained, "that the bonds will be sold at a discount to their face value
and the difference between the selling bond price and the maturity price,
equal to the face value, will make a profit."
"Don't take me for Kissur, Terence," Shavash pointed out. "I know what
zero-coupon bonds are."
Bemish quacked in exasperation.
"We are also considering securities with the alternative coupon
payments - they can be paid with money or with the new bonds."
Shavash paused. Trumpet sounds suddenly entered the room through the
window - the shepherd was herding the cows back to the village.
"That's a risky affair, Mr. Bemish. I am not sure if your bond price
will get to 70% of its face value on the market. What will remain then, from
your so-called eight and a half dinars per share?"
Bemish swallowed. He knew that the official was all too correct.
"The securities will cost dinar for a dinar," Bemish said. "The IPO
prospectus has a condition, that the bond interest will be re-evaluated a
year after the issue so that the securities cost will be equal to their face
value."
Shavash paused.
"It's quite an unusual decision," he said finally.
"This decision will allow me to lower the cost of financing the deal by
three percent."
"What if, to the contrary, your securities price falls?"
"The price will only rise," Bemish said.
Terence Bemish was so sure of himself that he was not going to frighten
the investors by a predetermined ceiling of the adjustable rate. As it came
out afterwards, he had signed the death verdict to Assalah project.
Then, however, Shavash seemed to be positively impressed with Bemish's
words.
"There are Weian banks," he said, "that would be glad to take part in
this affair and buy your bonds on a big scale. However, the affair is quite
risky and you need to sweeten it up a bit. I suppose that the large
investors could have an opportunity to buy, besides the bonds, the stock
warrants for three years - ten shares for a dinar. You could reserve 20% of
the shares for this purpose."
Bemish raised his eyebrows slightly. Shavash's idea meant that the
warrant's buyer will be able to acquire the Assalah stocks at their current
price in three years. Bemish hoped that, in three years, the Assalah shares
will cost hundred times more.
"So, who will buy the warrants?" Bemish asked.
"The Weian banks which will acquire the bonds."
"Can you be more precise?"
"It will be I and my friends."
In an hour, Welsey and Shavash descended to the central hall. Bemish
stayed on the upper floor to take a shower and change his shirt - he had
broken a sweat. When he walked down, Kissur was sitting in the hall and
instructing two young Trevis' aides how to train a highwayman's horse, so
that it could find the road in the dark and didn't neigh in an ambush. The
bankers listened attentively. Their young and honest faces expressed a
sincere interest. The bankers were used to express a sincere interest to any
client. One could suppose that setting up ambushes among rocky gorges was
their primary occupation.
"If the path is rocky, you should wrap the hoofs with felt," Kissur
said.
He turned around to the sound of steps.
"Why are you so glum, Terence," he said in Weian, "and why is it all so
dirty?"
Kissur trailed his fingers in disgust down an expensive pink wood table
- a banker dropped pizza on the table, hurriedly eating it.
"You don't have a woman - that's the problem," Kissur noted. "Idari
says the same."
The headman, having noiselessly approached on the side, bowed and
quickly popped in.
"If the lord needs a maid, I have a good candidate - a small official's
daughter, a seventeen-year-old maiden, gentle as jasmine petals. Her father
was caught stealing and he is currently under an investigation. To collect
the money to butter the judges up and secure his daughter's future, he could
sell her for fifty thousand."
Bemish glanced quickly towards his colleagues - the conversation was in
Weian and they clearly didn't understand it.
"I'll think about it," Bemish said.
"There is nothing to think about," Kissur stated. "I'll check the girl
out and, if she is as good as this scoundrel claims, she is yours."
A printer rattled at the table nearby and the last financial
projections crawled out of it.
When the next night, deathly tired, Bemish walked up to his bedroom at
two o'clock, he found that he was not the only one there. In the bed, coiled
like a doughnut, a cute girl of about seventeen years age was sleeping
tranquilly. Bemish pulled the blanket off her and found her to be quite
naked - Adani probably brought her in the evening and he was afraid of
bothering the master, busy with calculations - the girl waited and waited
some more and fell asleep.
Once Bemish raised the blanket, the girl got cold - she woke up and
stared at Bemish with her eyes, large and round like the moon. She had small
budding breasts with tiny nipples, heavy thighs and long white legs. Her
pubic hair was shaved off. The girl looked at Bemish unabashedly, as if
unknown foreigners inspected her, naked, every day.
"What's your name," Bemish asked, mangling Weian words.
"Inis."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Are you a maiden?"
"Of course, master. Mr. Kissur has chosen me himself."
Bemish jerked his eyebrows irritated.
"How did Kissur choose you?"
"He took me to Mrs. Idari," Inis said, "and the mistress said that you
needed a woman for your body and your house. She checked that I was a virgin
and that I cooked well, and she was satisfied."
When Idari's name was mentioned, Bemish's hands perspired suddenly. The
girl smiled and added teasingly.
"She was afraid of leaving me to Kissur. She is a very good wife. Do
you have a wife?"
Not answering her, Bemish released the blanket and it covered the girl
again. The thought about Jane destroyed all the pleasure. And also Idari! He
knew that, while caressing the Idari's gift, he would always think only
about the gift bearer.
"Put your clothes on. Ask Adini to find a bedroom for you."
"Won't we make love?" the frightened girl asked.
"No."
"Why did you buy me?"
"So, that somebody else wouldn't buy you."
It could be a sixty-year-old sadist in the district head rank, who
makes love to his secretaries in his office.
The girl was upset.
"If you made love to me," she said, "you would give me a new skirt and
earrings but you won't give me anything now."
"What skirt do you want?"
"I've just seen one at a fair - a long blue silk skirt, with a "dancing
flowers" embroidering and with three bands along the lap with pictures of
fishes, animals, and birds."
Bemish grinned. "All they want is money for the skirts," he thought
about Jane. "Blessed is the world, where they just ask openly for it."
He lay silently on the bed, in the pants and the jacket.
"Undress me," he ordered Inis.
The Fifth Chapter
Where Terence Bemish is being persuaded to drop out of Assalah stocks
auction while Shavash reminds the visitors that he is not familiar with the
"Who was the man who visited the manor with Ashidan?" Shavash asked
suddenly. "Did you recognize him?"
"No," Bemish came to his senses.
Shavash silently opened the folder he had with him and extracted a
newspaper article. The article showed the late Ashidan's companion and the
title announced, "The main suspect in the Menszel trading exchange center
escapes in an unknown direction."
Bemish hadn't heard about the explosion and he leafed through the text
quickly. The explosion was indeed a small one - two or three doors cracked
and a computer had its brains blown out. The blast was small because only
one explosive device performed - a non-fragmentation demolition shell with
ten grams of trinex. A case with the equivalent of three kilograms of
dynamite was next to it but, miraculously, it didn't detonated. If the case
had exploded, the victim count would have been in tens or, even hundreds.
"They left the villa," Bemish said, "the same day."
"Ashidan has nasty companions, " Shavash said. "Though this guy is a
friend of Kissur's."
"Pardon my curiosity, Mr. Shavash - it's surprising how you know
everything. You know even what happens at a villa two hundred kilometers
away from the capital. Are you a vice-minister of finance or of police?"
"I am simply a rich man," the small official said. "And a rich man is
not the man who owns a personal villa or a personal spaceship. It is a man
who owns a personal jail."
"A personal jail? Is that a joke?"
Shavash smiled.
"Would you like to see it? I can organize a trip."
"One way?"
"Never joke about jail, Mr. Bemish," calmly and coldly the Empire
official said. They were silent for a moment and, then, Bemish said,
"How much is IC going to pay for the stocks? I can pay more?"
"It doesn't matter, Terence, whether you pay more or less for the
stocks," Shavash grinned. "Imagine, that you pay for the stocks more but
your application is not set up correctly."
"How much does a correct application cost?"
In the uneven light by the lamps outside the window, the small
official's raised eyebrows were easy to see.
"Come on," Shavash smiled.
"Listen," Bemish said quietly and clearly, "a fantastic sum given to
you by IC was mentioned to me. I don't know whether or not it's true. I am
not going to offer you this kind of money. If, however, I buy the company
and you buy the stock options, in three years, your shares will be worth
eighteen times more than any of IC's pitches."
Shavash only smiled.
"You know perfectly well what IC is, Shavash. And you know that it will
bankrupt Assalah, and you know why it will do it."
Shavash had a perfect composure but Bemish noticed surprise or, even,
horror passing in his eyes.
Here, the Gera envoy with another man entered the hall and Bemish bowed
and walked away to the balcony.
Giles sat at a corner table on the balcony. A glass of palm vodka,
mixed with mango juice, stood next to him and an open magazine, that Giles
was probably reading, was under the glass.
"Good day, Mr. Bemish! They say that you already own half the Assalah
with a cute villa on top?"
Giles was drunk. He lamented probably that half the Assalah didn't
belong to him.
"I haven't asked for this gift," Bemish said, "and, anyway, I found
myself in an idiotic position."
"Especially, since you are not going to buy the company anyway, are
you?"
Bemish was tempted to empty the glass of vodka in the Giles face.
"Let me introduce you to our executive director," Giles said lazily,
"James McFergson."
Bemish turned around - behind him, a stout short man with unusually
lively eyes and a mole on a pug nose was smiling and extending amicably his
hand.
"Overjoyed to meet you," MacFergson declared, shaking Bemish's hand. It
really looked, as if he was overjoyed to meet Bemish, and, as if no Bemish
existed in this world, he would fall dead with sorrow.
Here, the stage in the garden under the balcony was lightened, the
harmonious sounds of flutes and lute-shells poured forth and a performance
started below - in not too prudish dresses, four beauties were dancing a
complex dance with swords. Quite a crowd surrounded the stage quickly and,
when the performance finished, a guest -likely drunk- climbed the boards to
kiss the dancing girls.
"Who is this bloke?" Bemish enquired.
"The Adana envoy, " McFergson answered. "The envoy fits the country."
"An Earthman?" Bemish said with surprise.
"They are no longer Earthmen," McFergson smirked, "the planet Adana,
for your information, was settled by SD Warheim. So, Warheim brought there
several dozen thousand unemployed people - subsidizing their one-way
tickets. In just a short while, the unemployed realized that there were a
lot of jobs on Adana and no unemployment benefits. So, they all screamed
that it was slavery in disguise and demanded that the company transport them
back to Earth. When the company offered the opportunity to earn money for
the transportation fees on their own, they called it Earth imperialism and
declared independence. However, I heard that their current President makes
them work way harder than the company did and in concentration camps rather
than free."
"Mr. Bemish knows that," Giles interrupted his colleague. "Just when
the trouble started, he bought United Ferrous shares and sold them later at
triple fold price when the new Adana government transferred all of Warheim's
concessions to United."
Several people from the group of Weian officials noiselessly approached
the conversing Earthmen. Among them, Bemish noticed Jonathan Rusby with the
smiling Gera envoy.
"Mr. Bemish has also provided a great assistance to Andjey Gerst. In my
opinion, your decision to create a Gera-oriented portfolio investment fund
made many financiers pay attention to Gera economics."
"What's so bad about it?" Bemish enquired irritably.
"Gerst is a dictator."
"And how exactly does it show?"
"So far, it shows, " Giles said, "in him attracting high level
scientists and advancing huge loans to local companies for the newest
technologies development - our government is forced to spend this money on
social expenses. And Gera banks are reputed to be the most reliable in the
Galaxy, though not due to the government protection but rather due to the
very strict laws specifying the total personal responsibility of the
management."
"Whose nails do they pull out?"
"Nobody's."
"And where is the dictatorship?
"Eh," Giles said, "in your opinion, a dictatorship is when they pull
the people's nails out and talk stupidly... Only a weak dictatorship pulls
the people's nails out, it's not a dangerous dictatorship, it will expire of
its own accord, it's doomed because when they pull the people's nails out,
the people don't work as much and the less they work, the more nails they
have to pull out."
"Do I understand you correctly," Bemish inquired, "that any state,
where they don't pull your nails out, is a strong dictatorship? I think you
just envy that Gera is better off than your own eh...?"
"Australia," Giles said, "I am an Australian. I understand you, though.
You have better opinion of Gera than of your own country because Gera's Dow
index grows faster."
He stood up.
"It's a stupid argument," he said, "I've been to Gera and I could give
you hundred proofs that its Leader is thousand times more dangerous than all
the psychopaths... Why don't you think about this - the Gera army's total
military capabilities are approaching those of Earth and all the other
Federation of Nineteen members' armies combined, and every time, when
somebody in the Federation Assembly proposes to boost the defense spending,
the owners of the accounts in the stable Gera banks start screaming that we
should not spend money on war, we should spend the money on social
assistance."
Kissur came in after midnight - by his looks, he spent the evening in a
more interesting way - in a pub. He ran into Bemish on a garden path, next
to a grotto that, due to an evident reason, Bemish needed to visit in
private.
Kissur slapped Bemish on the shoulder and noted.
"I haven't expected to meet you at this zoo! So, trader, haven't you
yet changed your mind about buying Assalah?"
"I will buy Assalah," Bemish said, "no matter what. At least, so that
Giles wouldn't get it."
"What's the difference between Giles or you buying it?" Bemish was
silent for a moment. Kissur was clearly drunk and Bemish wasn't a picture of
sobriety either.
"The difference? I guess, I will explain to you, Kissur, what Giles is
doing. Giles represents a company that nobody knows anything about. He says
that a private financier stays hidden behind the IC initials and he is ready
to invest ten billion in this business. That's bullshit. There are no such
investors."
"Why is he doing that?"
This is chicanery. Whoever is behind Giles gets Assalah and issues the
new shares. Your planet desperately lacks the space infrastructure, it's
generally a state property, and private spaceport investments should be
fantastically profitable. The stocks prices rise through the ceiling, IC
makes billions on the price differential and gets out. Shavash gets
millions, IC gets billions and the Federation investors with the Empire
nationals get a fly speck. I spent this week making enquires about IC. It is
a phantom. This is a trickster company that had a couple of projects on some
planets that nobody has heard anything about, - and these planets had been
expelled from the United Nations. A planet that's not a UN member - from a
financial viewpoint - Kissur, is a planet where the public companies'
accounting doesn't have to follow the Federal financial committee standards.
They have a well developed system - they bribe an official, issue the
stocks, advertising their "connections to the government", peddle these
stocks to fools through a phony company, the stocks grow, the company cleans
the cream off, and then - kabloom! Got it?
"Got it," Kissur said. "I got it, that our companies have a merry
choice - they can choose between a disreputable greenmailer and a company
like IC."
Kissur left soon, having loud-mouthed the Federation envoy and publicly
promised some official to set the dogs at him, "If you, bastard, demonstrate
your disdain to the sovereign again by parking your ill-gotten with bribes
Rolls-Royce next to the Nut Pavilion."
He did, however, invite Bemish for a dinner at Red Dog restaurant the
day after tomorrow.
The next day, Bemish returned to the city and went, first thing, to DJ
securities. The flower pot with summer hyacinths, right in front of the
office entrance, was bent in by bulky jeep tires and people bustled through
the wide open office doors like ants in a smashed anthill.
"What's going on?" Bemish inquired from Krasnov coming out to meet him.
"Tax police visited us," Krasnov said. "They locked up all the
paperwork."
"What laws did you break?"
"You should better ask what laws we didn't break! What laws can you
avoid breaking in a country where the regulations are made not with the goal
of paying the taxes to the state but with the goal of paying the hush money
to the tax collectors!"
"Haven't you tamed the tax collectors?"
"We? Come on, Bemish, every month... They apologized - we wouldn't do
it but we were ordered to..."
"Who exactly signed the order?"
"A man named Danisha. He is a proticle?"
Krasnov took a battered yellowish newspaper from a desk drawer and gave
it to Bemish. The newspaper was local and Bemish was only able to make out
Shavash's picture and he was barely able to get the paper's name - Red Star.
On the picture, Shavash appeared from the waist up, presenting an outrageous
sight with a girl, dressed only in a band, coquettishly tied around her
neck.
"What is it about?"
"It is about the Assalah company investment auction, where a corrupted
and lewd official Shavash settled with a foreign shark Bemish to sell him
Assalah for the price of a rotten melon."
Bemish took the newspaper with him and, in half an hour, he drove
through Kissur's mansion gate. The majordomo wordlessly walked him to the
living room; excited voices were coming from it. Bemish entered. The voices
stopped. A very beautiful thirty-year-old woman, with the eyes, black as
boysenberries, and a black braid tied around her head, rose to meet him. On
the coach, dismayed Shavash pressed himself against the pillows. Shavash
hurled the bundle of papers, he held in his hands, to the floor and said,
"Let me introduce you - Terence Bemish - the house mistress." Bemish
realized that Mrs. Idari, Kissur's wife, was in front of him and he bowed
awkwardly. The woman laughed. Her laughter was akin to a silver bell.
"Where is Kissur?" Bemish asked stupidly.
"Kissur is not here," the official answered. "He will fly in tomorrow."
Bemish suddenly felt himself blushing furiously.
"I ... I will go... I didn't know..."
"Please stay," Idari said politely, "I will leave. It is not befitting
for a woman to stay too long with a man her husband hasn't introduced to
her."
She bowed and left - only the black braid tied around her head
glistened in the door. Bemish was looking after her and blinking piteously.
Then, he turned to the official.
"Sit down, " Shavash waved his hand, "sit down and eat. Every time this
obnoxious majordomo sees me with his mistress, he would even bring a peddler
to the room."
The peddler comparison didn't please Bemish.
Shavash took him by his hand and walked him to a veranda where a round
table covered for two people stood next to the gold-gilded rails. A plump
maid was already standing next to a silver hand washing jar. Bemish washed
his hands and dried them carefully with an embroidered towel and, when he
turned around, the servants were already loading on the table a flat leather
dish with an aromatic mound of chopped steaming meat.
Having propped himself on the pillows, Shavash watched the Earthman.
"What is, "Shavash asked, "sticking out of your pocket?
"The Red Star article."
"Ahh," Shavash drawled. "These nutcases... Where did you get it, by the
way?"
"My broker showed it to me. Tax police busted him. A man named
Danisha."
Bemish got used to Shavash enough to be ready now for an ugly snub from
him. He could easily imagine Shavash smiling and saying, "Oh, Terence, what
should we do! The Earthmen allow themselves so much on Weia, it's scary!
These people had three different sets of books and didn't pay any taxes this
year. They can loose the license."
But Bemish didn't expect to see what happened next.
Shavash's eyebrows levitated in astonishment.
"What are you saying!" the small official said. "Verily, if you send an
idiot to bring you water, he will revert a spring to your house!"
He grabbed a T-phone off his belt.
"Danisha," Shavash started speaking in the receiver in several seconds,
"what happened to DJ securities?"
The receiver quacked.
"I'll show you three sets of books," Shavash screamed. "I'll show you
taking the license away! You will bring me the fine, they paid you,
personally. And you will bring me, what Giles paid you! You will bring it in
an hour or you can go away to Inissa as a cheese inspector in two hours."
Shavash threw the receiver down.
"Not convincing," Bemish said.
"I have nothing to do with it," Shavash snorted. "I just introduced
Danisha to this scoundrel of Giles."
"And the Red Sun article is not yours."
"Come on!" Shavash drawled. "That's disgusting sleaze. I would sue them
but I don't want to get my hands dirty."
"Well, this article came out just right for you. Now, you can refer to
the article to say, 'if I sell this company to Bemish, I will lose my
reputation."
Shavash shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't even want to listen to you, Terence. Red Star is the zealots'
newspaper. They tried to assassinate me twice."
"What zealots?"
"You saw them yourself while walking with Kissur - remember the iron
people show?"
Bemish shuddered slightly. As if it's not enough, that Shavash already
knew who and when anyone visited Kissur's villa in Assalah! What's he doing
- does he follow Bemish's every step?
"Where did this iron men story come from?"
"It was an old book," the finance vice-minister smiled, "with an iron
braggart story. There was a prophecy at the end of the book, that at the
world's end, plagues, hail and dishonest officials will come, and the iron
men will crawl out from the underground. I have to say that every time
rebellions or barbarian invasions happened in the Empire, the rebels were
thought to be the iron men. However, once the rebels took power, everybody
would immediately realize that they were not the iron men. As for the
Earthmen - you don't grab the power and don't hang your enemies. Can't you
be anybody else but the iron men?"
"The ones that crawl out from underground?"
"The ones that crawl out from the underground, eat children's brains,
and carry nar bewitched
halls, to inflict visions on them."
"And how many people believe it?"
"A lot of people," Shavash said, "peasants, officials, artisans. Hey, I
fired my secretary, Akhhar, because of that, right after our US tour."
Bemish finally realized that Shavash was making fun of him.
"Well," he said, smiling, "you secretary, having flown to Earth, is
unlikely to think that we crawled out of hell."
"My friend," Shavash said, "Akhhar just considers it to be an allegory,
the wisdom of our ancestors who possessed the hidden knowledge and warned us
about the danger. You see, when you talk about science, you either
understand how a nuclear reactor works, or you don't. A myth, meanwhile, is
capable of joining together the most different people's groups and minds. A
simple peasant understands the prophecy literally, while an educated man
interprets it metaphorically."
"And how," Bemish asked, "do the preachers understand the prophecy?"
"Oh, while talking to the authorities, they claim it is an allegory!
Are they idiots to admit that they know the real truth about the iron men?"
"It's incredible," Bemish muttered. "Can't you explain to your crazies
what's really going on?"
"It's impossible to explain to them, it's only possible to hang them. I
think, however, that if we start hanging people for believing Earthmen to be
demons, than you, the demons, will raise a horrible buzz."
Bemish lowered his head.
"Don't feel bad. These people have a special gift of quarrelling not
only with the state but also with each other. Take cars, for instance. One
sect will believes that cars don't exist, that they are demonic phantoms,
and that you are not moving in a car but rather are moved by a demonic
force. Another one believes that the ancestors themselves sent us the cars,
but the iron demons grabbed the gift on the way and used it illegally."
Shavash picked the newspaper up, waved it at Bemish's nose and said.
"I am explaining all this to you, Bemish, so that you understand how
difficult it would be for me to get an article published in Red Star, where,
on the top of it, they christen me," Shavash squinted slightly and started
translating the text, "a foul dung beetle, "a cockroach with a sack of gold
instead of the heart," and "the foam of sacrilege..."
Shavash paused for a moment and unexpectedly added.
"You know, what my conclusion from the article is?"
Bemish couldn't help but glance. The dirty article, as it has been
mentioned, was accompanied by the picture of Shavash naked and Bemish
imagined for a moment, what he would feel if he appeared on a newspaper page
in such a saucy way.
"My conclusion is that I should lose some weight. It's a shame of a
picture, don't you think so?"
Bemish was leaving the mansion when a dark skinned servant reported to
him, bowing.
"The mistress is expecting you in the Blooming Plums Gazebo."
Bemish walked into the garden. The woman that had withdrawn from the
room before the dinner was now walking on a white garden path, overcast with
sideways moon shadows, and the lace decorating her dress sleeves resembled
moon rays coiling around her wrists.
Bemish bowed shyly and said.
"Believe me, I am very sorry that you didn't dine with us."
"Men and women do not eat together," Idari objected. "Are you the
Earthman that has been buying Assalah via DJ securities?"
"You are informed surprisingly well," Bemish muttered abashedly,
realizing that the Idari's husband is unlikely to even know that DJ
securities exist.
"Well, if women eat separately from men," Idari smiled, "it doesn't
really mean that they don't know anything. Are you married?"
"I am divorced."
"Did your wife love you?"
"She loved my bank account."
Idari sat down on a bench in a fluid catlike motion and Bemish heard a
hydrangea bush rustle against her skirt. Idari gestured Bemish to sit next
to her.
"I appreciate everything you have done for my husband," Idari said.
"I haven't done anything for him," the Earthman objected, "while he has
done a lot for me."
"You are the first man from the stars that he made friends with. It's
so strange that this man belongs to Ronald Travis' circle."
And Bemish was again quite surprised by Idari's awareness.
"I thought he had Earthmen friends."
"Yes. People who throw bombs at the supermarkets and use drugs to
liberate themselves from the corrupting influence of the civilization."
Idari and Bemish sat very close to each other. The night had descended
already but the two moons shone powerfully like beacons and Bemish could
clearly see Idari's profile, a small head with the black braid wrapped
around the head and the hairpins glistening in the moonlight.
"My husband exerts a great influence on the Emperor," Idari continued,
"and you may exert a great influence on my husband. It would have been very
bad for my country, if Kissur had befriended, instead of you, the people he
had met two years ago on Earth."
Idari paused.
"What do you know of our history?"
Bemish flushed. His ignorance of everything related to Weian history
was practically absolute, it could only compare to his ignorance of Earth
history. If anything was of interest to him on this planet - it was the
budget deficit size or the central bank interest rate. The central bank
interest rate did not depend on history in any way.
"Is the name Arfarra familiar to you?"
Bemish faltered.
"He was the first minister..."
"He was the first minister twice. Once, before Earthmen. Second time,
after them. Once the Earthmen came to Weia, the Emperor appointed a man
named Nan as the first minister. Then, Nan was removed - with my husband's
help."
Bemish vaguely remembered the five-year-old scandal - since the scandal
took place on Earth, not on Weia. There was something about Kissur - the
Weian ex-first minister, hanging out on Earth. Or was it on Lann? Amidst
terrorists and drug abusers. A stolen car, drugs, a beaten policeman, the
arrest of a terrorist activity suspect, a scandal diligently stirred up by
somebody, and finally Kissur's statement that Nan was the main culprit in
the tragedy that happened after the hijacking of a military plane. This
statement played a part in the Earthman-minister resignation.
"Afterwards, a different premier and a different program of state
investment policy were instated. The taxes were high and the budget expenses
were huge. The only money left in the country was that in the state treasury
and in the banks with the highest officials as the stock holders. The
workers were not allowed to leave the companies they worked for and to
testify against their owners."
Idari grinned and added.
Shavash was, at that time, one of the most active supporters of the
state investments. He needed to clean his reputation up after his friendship
with Nan and he invented all the programs for the government, where money
just sank in the sand. Three tons of concrete were claimed where one ton of
concrete was used; five kilos of paint were reported where one kilo was
applied.
Concerning the laws that enslaved the workers, he wrote a memorandum
where he claimed, that the Weian way is different from the Galactic one,
since an owner doesn't exploit the workers as a hired cattle, but rather
takes fatherly life-long care of them. It should have ended with the
destruction of the country but it ended with a rebellion and the
government's resignation.
Then, Arfarra came in. He cut the state expenses down and rescinded the
employment laws. Meanwhile, my husband crushed the rebellions in the places
where the governors missed the old times.
Bemish almost didn't hear, what the woman was saying. The crossed light
bands from the two full breasted moons gleamed on the marble garden path and
silver bracelets like many-winged snakes entwined Idari's wrists, as thin as
ivy twigs.
"A bit later, Arfarra said to a man, named Van Leyven, that used to
invest a lot of money in Weia, "we are selling state constructions now, why
don't you buy Assalah?" - "I won't do that," Van Leyven said, "it's the most
disgusting of all Shavash's feeding troughs." - "Weian economics improved a
lot this year," Arfarra said, "but you used this year to freeze the
constructions, sell them to the state or get rid of the stocks via dummy
fronts. Why?" - Van Leyven thought for a bit and said. "I invested a lot of
money in Weia and incurred big losses. I staked it all and I lost. You let
the time slip by. The people lost their trust to the officials, the Earthmen
and the sovereign. You are old and sick, what will happen when you die?" -
"I've been dying for six years," Arfarra got angry, "will you buy Assalah or
not?" - "No." They parted then. Arfarra died the next day.
Bemish was now listening and holding his breath.
"My husband idolized Arfarra," Idari continued, "and it was extremely
difficult for me to persuade him not to take vengeance on Van Leyven outside
of Weia. He still had to leave Weia, since his death here would have been
certain, and he lost much more money than he had expected. I am saying this,
Mr. Bemish, so that you realized that profit and death walk closer to each
other on Weia, than they do on Earth. Especially if you buy Assalah and make
friends with Kissur."
Bemish returned to the hotel late at night. Dogs yapped far away in the
city, stars hung above the white temple and, in the next block, a sad
woman's voice was singing something accompanied by a flute.
Falling asleep, Bemish thought about the woman, with the black eyes and
the black braid wrapped around her head, and about the two people who had
lost their heads over that woman - Kissur and Shavash. He also thought about
Clyde Van Leyven; he knew a lot about this man, unlike the other actors of
the Idari's story. Since, Van Leyven was a billionaire and the financial
community watched his each step holding its breath. Unlike Idari, Bemish
knew that Van Leyven almost died half a year after the Weian events - the
brakes on his air cushioned seven-meter-long limo failed, the car broke
through the rail and dived in water from a twenty-meter-high bridge, the
driver drowned, the bodyguard broke his head on the front panel, and Van
Leyven miraculously survived. This story didn't hit the newspapers thanks to
Van Leyven's connections. And now Bemish was not sure that Kissur had held
on to his promise not to retaliate outside of Weia.
The Red Dog tavern was located in a less than prominent neighborhood.
Its entrance was gated by two snake gods entwining around two brass door
poles, brass lamps with sparkles swung under the planked ceiling, and the
wooden walls were decorated by a couple dozen signatures and crosses. The
signatures have been collected for the last twenty years and they belonged
to the most famous literate thieves of the current sovereign's rule. The
crosses belonged to the most famous illiterate thieves.
At least two people from this respectable circle sat in a corner
discussing their
crooked dealings and, upon Kissur's arrival, approached to greet him.
Kissur introduced them to Bemish. The first thief, a glum
golden-toothed middle aged handsome man extracted a business card out of his
pocket, where he was presented as some company's director, and assured
Bemish, that he would be happy to be of any service if Bemish ever needed
him.
Hence, both thieves, accompanied by their bodyguards, left in an
unknown direction. Kissur glumly mentioned that they were going to a meeting
with their competitors and, if they were apprehended, there would be one
less shoot out in the city.
"Apprehend them, then," Bemish suggested.
"Why? Let the spiders devour themselves."
Kissur and Bemish had just started on a suckling piglet, rising like a
soft white mountain from a savory sauce sea, when Kissur suddenly raised his
head - Kaminsky stood in front of him. The businessman had a somewhat
down-hearted look to him. He had a huge blue spot under his eye - like a
shaman painting himself before a divination- and his hand hung in a silk
sling.
"I came to say good-bye," Kaminsky said. "I am flying to Earth
tomorrow."
Kissur was looking at him silently.
Kaminski pushed a chair away and sat down.
"I was wrong," he said. "Out of all the Weian officials you are indeed
the only honest one. You didn't want a penny from me. Having returned, I'll
certainly tell all my friends, that there are two types of the Weian
officials - the officials who demand bribes from the Earthmen and use them
as pawns in their feuds and the one honest official who bathed me in a
swimming pool."
"You will also," Kissur said, "tell them that you are an innocent
victim of the dark machinations; that you wanted to buy land for twelve
millions but the officials persuaded you to buy it for a million and a half
with a knife at your throat."
"No," Kaminsky said.
I will not tell them what exactly has happened. But I wouldn't mind
telling you about it, ex-minister, to improve your economics education. I
arrive here and go to Khanida, "I would like to build a business center."
Khanida is politeness personified. He pours lavish praise all over me. He
has the utmost desire for future collaboration. He praises my unselfishness
and is so overwhelmed with it that he offers me the land not for twelve
million but for a million and a half. Reluctant to engage in doubtful
dealings, I refuse. Well! Twelve million it will be. Mr. Khanida is so
happy. He says that a base man cares about profit and an honorable man cares
about fairness. He sees both of us belonging to the honorable people ranks.
I start the construction and invest the money. Meanwhile, the land is still
not bought yet - they assure me - it's a pure formality. On a nice day, I
visit Mr. Khanida and he starts the million and a half talk again. I refuse
politely. Khanida shrugs his shoulders and becomes as cold as a frog. He
says that he is breaking the contract off. I lose it - come on, I've already
sunk big money in! For an answer, Khanida utters through clenched teeth
something about exploitators sucking on Weia's blood and liver. Then, I go
to Shavash, your dearest friend. He offers me... it's enough to say, Mr.
Kissur, that he offers me something similar but he wants twice more than
Khanida. I made a mistake here. I should've turned away and left. Screw the
expenses. But I felt bad about the lost money. I've already inhaled enough
of your stink. I saw that Khanida would do what he promised and I signed the
contract. My mistake was that I forgot about Shavash, who offered me the
same deal as Khanida. Shavash was irritated that Khanida didn't share the
loot with him. Naturally, the local customs code didn't allow him to rat on
me directly. And so, having chosen a right moment, he tells you the story
and you raise the buzz! And this buzz reverberates in Shavash's soul with
coins jingling pleasantly. And the Empire is left empty-handed again, and
Shavash is left in the full confidence that Khanida will give him half the
money next time, just to avoid the problems!
Kissur got the checkbook out of his pocket and asked.
"How much money did you give to Khanida?"
Kaminsky was astounded, and then, laughed.
"I don't need your money."
"Money is the only thing the Earthmen need. That's why the Earthmen's
destiny is suffering, since money not spent for friends and alms brings
trouble."
"Where do you get money, Kissur, eh? You don't trade, you don't take
bribes and you don't rob passers-by! Where does the money come from? The
Emperor just gives it to you, doesn't he? And it doesn't cost anything to
the Emperor - when the treasury runs out of money, he invents another tax.
You call a man who sells and buys a criminal, and a man who collects the
taxes for you, the cornerstone of the state! That's why you won't like it if
a parliament forms and only parliament can authorize the taxes collected in
this country."
"Do you want to swim again?"
Kaminsky took heed.
"No," he said bitterly, "I don't want to swim. You almost killed me
that time. Since you don't have any arguments other than swimming, I would
rather be silent. But I will advise all my friends on Earth and, by the way,
Terence Bemish, sitting next to you, never, under no circumstances, do any
business on Weia since nothing will come out of it besides debasement and
shame. Believe me, Mr. Kissur - I could still patch everything together. But
I am grateful to you that I lost this money; I recalled again that I have
honor and self-respect."
He turned and walked away.
Kissur looked at Bemish.
"Well," Kissur asked, "is he correct?"
"Yes," Bemish said.
"Will you leave?"
"No," Bemish shook his head "I won't leave. You, however, should."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
"Too late," Kissur replied. "I applied to the Federation Military
Academy. They didn't accept me. I am not interested in any other place in
your Galaxy, full of worms like a year-old fig."
The next day, Bemish flew to the villa, where several members of his
team and two LSV employees arrived. They had a simple task - to develop the
contract's financial shell by the week's end.
The bankers worked day and night. In two days, a helicopter arrived,
carrying a cheerful and slightly drunk Kissur and a much more sober Shavash.
Kissur barged in the central hall where the bankers, having pulled an
all-nighter, were finishing the IPO prospectus.
"You are not asleep, too!" Kissur heartened. "Where did you ditch the
girls? Let's drink!"
And he banged a jar of expensive Inissa wine on the table next to the
printer, spitting out the financial projections. At this point, generally
phlegmatic Welsey, scared to hell by Kissur, demonstrated a true greatness
of the spirit.
"Kissur," he said, "I will drink with you only after you help me to
calculate the cash flow in the company if the embargo on the Gera trade is
enacted and the cargo flow decreases correspondingly."
Kissur was astounded. He was not able to calculate cash flows.
"C-cads!" he muttered drunkenly.
Bemish found him a girl in the village and returned to the office,
where Shavash was waiting for him. Shavash sat in the armchair next to a
window looking thoughtfully at the neglected garden.
"What's your price," Shavash asked.
"Eight fifty five for a share."
"Thirty four million total," Shavash noted. "What are your investment
obligations?"
"Sixty million. I am going to land the first ships in six months after
the construction starts."
"You don't have any experience building spaceports, do you?"
"I have experience involving professionals and setting up financial
contracts, Mr. Shavash. This company should start bringing in cash flow in
less than a year, otherwise it will go bankrupt."
"How are you going to finance the deal?"
"The banks provide ten million out of ninety four. This is a ten
percent loan, with the company property as collateral. Eighty four million
are financed through the high interest bonds issued by my company ADO and
placed by LSV on the intergalactic exchange market. Approximately four
million belong to me and my friends."
"So, you risk only four million of your money out of ninety four."
"I risk the other people's money and my own head." Shavash reclined in
the armchair.
"As far as I know, it's a standard way for buying the companies with
existing cash flow used to pay interest. While you are buying a hole that
you need to fill with piles of money."
"We will try to construct the contract's financial shell in such a way
that we won't pay anything this year. We are planning to issue some
zero-coupon bonds with a two year maturity time. It means," Bemish
explained, "that the bonds will be sold at a discount to their face value
and the difference between the selling bond price and the maturity price,
equal to the face value, will make a profit."
"Don't take me for Kissur, Terence," Shavash pointed out. "I know what
zero-coupon bonds are."
Bemish quacked in exasperation.
"We are also considering securities with the alternative coupon
payments - they can be paid with money or with the new bonds."
Shavash paused. Trumpet sounds suddenly entered the room through the
window - the shepherd was herding the cows back to the village.
"That's a risky affair, Mr. Bemish. I am not sure if your bond price
will get to 70% of its face value on the market. What will remain then, from
your so-called eight and a half dinars per share?"
Bemish swallowed. He knew that the official was all too correct.
"The securities will cost dinar for a dinar," Bemish said. "The IPO
prospectus has a condition, that the bond interest will be re-evaluated a
year after the issue so that the securities cost will be equal to their face
value."
Shavash paused.
"It's quite an unusual decision," he said finally.
"This decision will allow me to lower the cost of financing the deal by
three percent."
"What if, to the contrary, your securities price falls?"
"The price will only rise," Bemish said.
Terence Bemish was so sure of himself that he was not going to frighten
the investors by a predetermined ceiling of the adjustable rate. As it came
out afterwards, he had signed the death verdict to Assalah project.
Then, however, Shavash seemed to be positively impressed with Bemish's
words.
"There are Weian banks," he said, "that would be glad to take part in
this affair and buy your bonds on a big scale. However, the affair is quite
risky and you need to sweeten it up a bit. I suppose that the large
investors could have an opportunity to buy, besides the bonds, the stock
warrants for three years - ten shares for a dinar. You could reserve 20% of
the shares for this purpose."
Bemish raised his eyebrows slightly. Shavash's idea meant that the
warrant's buyer will be able to acquire the Assalah stocks at their current
price in three years. Bemish hoped that, in three years, the Assalah shares
will cost hundred times more.
"So, who will buy the warrants?" Bemish asked.
"The Weian banks which will acquire the bonds."
"Can you be more precise?"
"It will be I and my friends."
In an hour, Welsey and Shavash descended to the central hall. Bemish
stayed on the upper floor to take a shower and change his shirt - he had
broken a sweat. When he walked down, Kissur was sitting in the hall and
instructing two young Trevis' aides how to train a highwayman's horse, so
that it could find the road in the dark and didn't neigh in an ambush. The
bankers listened attentively. Their young and honest faces expressed a
sincere interest. The bankers were used to express a sincere interest to any
client. One could suppose that setting up ambushes among rocky gorges was
their primary occupation.
"If the path is rocky, you should wrap the hoofs with felt," Kissur
said.
He turned around to the sound of steps.
"Why are you so glum, Terence," he said in Weian, "and why is it all so
dirty?"
Kissur trailed his fingers in disgust down an expensive pink wood table
- a banker dropped pizza on the table, hurriedly eating it.
"You don't have a woman - that's the problem," Kissur noted. "Idari
says the same."
The headman, having noiselessly approached on the side, bowed and
quickly popped in.
"If the lord needs a maid, I have a good candidate - a small official's
daughter, a seventeen-year-old maiden, gentle as jasmine petals. Her father
was caught stealing and he is currently under an investigation. To collect
the money to butter the judges up and secure his daughter's future, he could
sell her for fifty thousand."
Bemish glanced quickly towards his colleagues - the conversation was in
Weian and they clearly didn't understand it.
"I'll think about it," Bemish said.
"There is nothing to think about," Kissur stated. "I'll check the girl
out and, if she is as good as this scoundrel claims, she is yours."
A printer rattled at the table nearby and the last financial
projections crawled out of it.
When the next night, deathly tired, Bemish walked up to his bedroom at
two o'clock, he found that he was not the only one there. In the bed, coiled
like a doughnut, a cute girl of about seventeen years age was sleeping
tranquilly. Bemish pulled the blanket off her and found her to be quite
naked - Adani probably brought her in the evening and he was afraid of
bothering the master, busy with calculations - the girl waited and waited
some more and fell asleep.
Once Bemish raised the blanket, the girl got cold - she woke up and
stared at Bemish with her eyes, large and round like the moon. She had small
budding breasts with tiny nipples, heavy thighs and long white legs. Her
pubic hair was shaved off. The girl looked at Bemish unabashedly, as if
unknown foreigners inspected her, naked, every day.
"What's your name," Bemish asked, mangling Weian words.
"Inis."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Are you a maiden?"
"Of course, master. Mr. Kissur has chosen me himself."
Bemish jerked his eyebrows irritated.
"How did Kissur choose you?"
"He took me to Mrs. Idari," Inis said, "and the mistress said that you
needed a woman for your body and your house. She checked that I was a virgin
and that I cooked well, and she was satisfied."
When Idari's name was mentioned, Bemish's hands perspired suddenly. The
girl smiled and added teasingly.
"She was afraid of leaving me to Kissur. She is a very good wife. Do
you have a wife?"
Not answering her, Bemish released the blanket and it covered the girl
again. The thought about Jane destroyed all the pleasure. And also Idari! He
knew that, while caressing the Idari's gift, he would always think only
about the gift bearer.
"Put your clothes on. Ask Adini to find a bedroom for you."
"Won't we make love?" the frightened girl asked.
"No."
"Why did you buy me?"
"So, that somebody else wouldn't buy you."
It could be a sixty-year-old sadist in the district head rank, who
makes love to his secretaries in his office.
The girl was upset.
"If you made love to me," she said, "you would give me a new skirt and
earrings but you won't give me anything now."
"What skirt do you want?"
"I've just seen one at a fair - a long blue silk skirt, with a "dancing
flowers" embroidering and with three bands along the lap with pictures of
fishes, animals, and birds."
Bemish grinned. "All they want is money for the skirts," he thought
about Jane. "Blessed is the world, where they just ask openly for it."
He lay silently on the bed, in the pants and the jacket.
"Undress me," he ordered Inis.
The Fifth Chapter
Where Terence Bemish is being persuaded to drop out of Assalah stocks
auction while Shavash reminds the visitors that he is not familiar with the