Throy (13 page)

“Julian hesitated. He asked how much money would be needed?

“I said that the money residual in Sir Denzel’s account must be used as a reserve against draughts which might be outstanding. Therefore, to the seventy-five thousand sols for the Fratzengale must be added forty-three thousand for the Fortunatus, which amounted to one hundred and eighteen thousand sols. Bank charges might bring the total higher, but one hundred and twenty thousand sols would probably be adequate.

“Julian looked grim, but made no comment. He transferred ninety thousand sols from the LPF fund, twenty thousand from Dame Clytie Vergence and ten thousand from his own account.

“Very good, I told him; I would put through the transaction with T. J. Weidler at once. Julian could return in a day or so and we would arrange the final details.

“As soon as Julian left I telephoned Dorcas Fallinch. I asked for the ordinary price on the Fortunatus; he told me that sixty-five thousand sols was about right. And the Fratzengale? He would sell both for seventy thousand sols. On behalf of Sir Denzel Attabus I accepted his offer; the transaction was definite as of the instant.

          “Half an hour later a messenger arrived with documents, keys and codeboxes; this morning you found me in the process of transferring seventy thousand sols into the T. J. Weidler account, which will finalize the transaction, which I fear is not affected by Sir Denzel’s latest instruction. In short, Sir Denzel’s current assets include two space vessels, the original twenty-nine thousand sols and another fifty thousand sols derived from the funds supplied by Julian Bohost.”

Glawen asked: “These funds are now frozen into Sir Denzel’s account?”

Overman Vambold nodded, smiling his faint smile. “I might mention, on a purely personal note, that, as a Syndic of the Murmelian Institute, I share the views of Sir Denzel, who himself is a Ninth Phase Avatar of the Noble Way. This episode has redeemed my unwise participation in the sale of the Straidor-Ferox gunships to Roby Mavil, when I should properly have applied to Sir Denzel for confirmation. The mistake has weighed heavily upon me; I rejoice that, to some extent, it has been nullified.”

Chilke spoke thoughtfully: “Somewhere I’ve heard it said that among all the human varieties, the most relentless are the pacifists.”

Glawen asked: “And Kathcar now controls Sir Denzel’s account?”

Overman Vambold referred to the document which Kathcar had tendered him. “Sir Denzel’s language is explicit. Rufo Kathcar is granted full freedom of action in regard to the account.”

“Which contains most of the LPF assets?”

“Just so.”

“Aha!” cried Chilke in exultation. “Can such happy things be real? It seems that Julian’s money has disappeared into the crevices of a time-warp.”

Overman Vambold’s smile became wry. “I must use tact when I explain events to Julian.”

“A bald statement of fact should suffice,” said Kathcar.

          “Julian must learn to accept the vicissitudes of life with a graceful philosophy.”

“That is good advice, and I shall transmit it to Julian.”

Kathcar nodded thoughtfully. “I too must cope with heavy new responsibilities. Still, I shall do my best, and make no complaint.”

Glawen laughed. “We admire your fortitude, but the Conservancy’s interests come first.”

Kathcar said coldly: “I will make a full analysis and in due course -”

Glawen paid him no heed. “Sir Denzel’s account now contains seventy-nine thousand sols, a Fortunatus space yacht and the Fratzengale; am I right?”

“Quite right,” said Overman Vambold.

Glawen turned to Kathcar: “First, the Fortunatus. You may transfer Sir Denzel’s interest to Bureau B at Araminta Station, or to me personally. If you choose to make the vessel over to Bureau B, you may be sure that Bodwyn Wook will be highly gratified and will use it as often as he finds convenient.”

“That must not be!”

“Then put the title in my name.”

“What?” cried Kathcar. “Never! This is all sheer bunkum! I share Sir Denzel’s creed, though I have not journeyed so far along the Way. Now I will find some quiet retreat and proceed with my studies, and perhaps I will also maintain a run or two of fine poultry. I intend to employ the funds in Sir Denzel’s account to noble purposes, and the betterment of Man!”

Glawen spoke without heat. “Do not struggle, or wrangle, or argue. It will be time wasted. Sir Denzel may be an idealist; he has also financed criminal sedition and his estate no doubt will be confiscated. Your own position is ambiguous, to say the least. If Bodwyn Wook connects you with the gunships, he will take your case to heart.”

Kathcar cried out: “I was under dire constraints, as you know! All my life I have battled Destiny! Always my good intentions have been thwarted and turned against me!”

          “Not now! Your good intentions are free as birds! So put aside your golden fantasies and start signing papers.”

Kathcar said hollowly: “When I first saw you on the
Wanderling
, I told myself: ‘There goes bad news.’”

“Let us get this affair over with,” said Glawen. “First, the Fortunatus, which Chilke and I will find useful in our work.”

          Kathcar threw up his arms in a wild gesture and turned to Overman Vambold. “Transfer the Fortunatus and the Fratzengale to Glawen Clattuc, Araminta station, Cadwal. I must submit to this pitiless martinet.”

Overman Vambold shrugged. “As you wish.”

“Next,” said Glawen, “pay over to Kathcar twenty thousand sols, which he probably does not deserve.”

Kathcar gave a poignant cry. “Twenty thousand? I was expecting considerably more!”

“Twenty thousand was the amount you mentioned to Bodwyn Wook.”

“That was before I risked my life!”

“Very well, then. Twenty-five thousand sols it is.”

Overman Vambold made a note. “And the balance?”

“Put whatever is left into the Floreste-Clattuc account, here at the Bank of Soumjiana.”

Overman Vambold looked to Kathcar: “Are these your instructions?”

“Yes,” growled Kathcar. “As always my hopes and plans have been dashed.”

“Very well!” Overman Vambold rose to his feet. “If you will return in, let us say three days -”

Glawen stared in shock. “Three days! we want the business done now, at this instant.”

Overman Vambold gave his head a curt shake. “At the Bank of Soumjiana we work at a prudent pace. we cannot risk mistakes, since our apologies are never heeded. Your proposals have darted around the room like frightened birds, which is all very well, since you bear not a puff of responsibility. I, on the other hand, must discharge my duties with caution. I feel impelled to make an orderly evaluation and inquire into your reputation.”

“My requests are legal?”

“Of course. I would not consider them otherwise.”

“So much for the evaluation. As for my reputation, I refer you to Alvary Irling at the Bank of Mircea, here in Soumjiana.”

“Excuse me a moment; I will call in private from my side-chamber.” Overman Vambold left the room. Glawen turned to Kathcar and Chilke. “It is most important that we clean out the account before news arrives of Sir Denzel’s death; otherwise Julian might be able to recover the LPF account. Hence the haste.”

Overman Vambold returned to his desk, his manner subdued and thoughtful. “Alvary Irling has given you a good reputation and suggests that I cooperate with you to my best ability. Therefore, I will do so. Twenty-five thousand sols to Rufo Kathcar; the Fortunatus and the Fratzengale to yourself and the balance, roughly fifty-four thousand sols, into the Floreste-Clattuc account. “

“That is correct.”

“I will have the funds and the transfer documents brought here. It will only be a moment.”

A buzzer called Overman Vambold to the telephone. Looking across the desk Glawen saw the face of Julian

Bohost on the screen. “I am here at the bank,” came Julian’s voice. “Shall I come to your office? I assume that all is in order.”

Glawen attracted Overman Vambold’s attention. “Tell him to come back in two hours, after lunch.”

Overman Vambold nodded. Julian spoke: “Is everything ready for me?”

Overman Vambold used his most colorless voice. “I am sorry, Mr. Bohost, I have been extremely busy, and I have not yet been able to process the papers.”

“What! Time is of the essence and I am dangling on tenterhooks!”

“There has been a hitch in the proceedings which I have not yet been able to resolve and the functionary in charge has gone out for lunch.”

“This is outrageous!” stormed Julian. “I resent this inefficiency!”

“Mr. Bohost, if you will meet me here in two hours I will have definite news for you, one way or the other.”

“What do you mean by that?” cried Julian. “This is intolerable!”

“In two hours, then,” said Overman Vambold. The screen went dead.

Overman Vambold gave his head a shake of distaste. “I do not like being put into a false position.”

“You need waste no pity on Julian, who was doing his best to swindle Sir Denzel, who himself was flouting the laws of the Conservancy, and encouraging acts which could only lead to bloodshed. His conduct has not been altogether innocent, Ninth Phase or not.”

“Possibly so.” Overman Vambold lost interest in the discussion.

Three packets fell into a delivery slot. Overman Vambold gave one to Kathcar. “Twenty-five thousand sols.”

Another went to Glawen. “Documents, key and codebox for the Fortunatus and the Fratzengale.” From the third envelope he withdrew a paper. “Sign here,” he told Glawen. “It is the receipt for the transfer of money into your account.”

“Confidential, I hope?”

“Completely so. Our business is now concluded, since Sir Denzel’s account has run dry.”

“One final matter,” said Glawen. “Are you acquainted with the name Lewyn Barduys?”

Overman Vambold frowned. “I believe he is a magnate of some kind. Construction, perhaps.”

“Does he maintain an office in Soumjiana?”

Overman Vambold spoke into his telephone. A voice said, “L-B Construction is represented in Soumjiana by Kantolith Construction.”

          “Call Kantolith, if you will, and ask the present whereabouts of Lewyn Barduys.”

Overman Vambold made the call and was told that Lewyn Barduys was not on hand, and that no one knew his whereabouts. “The sector office is at Zaster on Yaphet, by Gilbert’s Green Star; they will surely have his present location.”

The three left the office, Overman Vambold dismissing them with a bow of urbane courtesy.

Departing the bank by the front entrance, they stepped out upon the plaza, now crowded with Soumi moving about their business with that deliberate ponderous gait, almost a strut, head high, shoulders thrown back, which so often caught the attention of visitors.

Kathcar, fretful over lost opportunities, had forgotten the fear which had oppressed him previously. Without demur or reproach he accompanied Glawen and Chilke to an open-air café, where they seated themselves at a table. A buxom waitress brought a platter of grilled sausages, bread and beer.

Glawen told Kathcar: “The time has come for us to part company. I suppose you have definite plans in mind?”

Kathcar gave a rather forlorn shrug. “The episode has been played out, and now I am thrust aside.”

Chilke grinned. “You have your money; you’ve done Julian one in the eye; what more do you want?”

“I still am dissatisfied. I thought I would go to my connections at Foucher on Canopus IX and raise fine poultry - but the prospect no longer holds appeal.”

“Count yourself fortunate,” said Glawen drily. “Bodwyn Wook would put you to breaking rocks at Cape Journal.”

“Bodwyn-Wook is a chancre on the sensitive parts of Progress,” muttered Kathcar. “All the same, I would prefer to live on Cadwal, where I could help direct the new order – but I suspect that I would never be safe.” Kathcar suddenly remembered his dread of assassination. He raised his head and searched around the plaza, now bright in the pale yellow light of Mazda. Back and forth marched the citizens of Soumjiana, the men in loose pantaloons gathered under the knee, full jackets over white shirts with loose wide collars. The women wore long-sleeved blouses and full skirts; like the men they carried themselves with prideful rectitude.

“Look!” cried Kathcar. He pointed to a heroic black iron statue at the center of the plaza commemorating Cornelis Pameijer, one of the early explorers. To the side of the pedestal, a Lemurian sausage seller had set up his grill; here stood Julian Bohost, glumly munching bread and sausages.

Chapter 3, Part III

Glawen, Chilke and Kathcar left the plaza and walked along the Promenade of Strong Women to a cab-rank. Glawen told Kathcar: “Here we will take our leave of you.”

Kathcar jerked his head back in surprise. “What? So soon? We have made no plans for the future!”

“True. What sort of plans did you have in mind?”

Kathcar made a gesture, to indicate that the range of topics was almost boundless. “Nothing is settled. So far I have evaded my enemies, but you have forced me into the open, where I am vulnerable.”

Glawen smiled. “Be brave, Kathcar! you are no longer in danger.”

“Indeed?” rasped Kathcar. “Why do you say so?”

“We left Julian eating a sausage. He looked to be in a bad mood, but he was alone, and not conspiring to kill you, as he might if he knew you were near.”

“He might find out at any minute.”

“In that case, the sooner you leave the better, and far is better than near.”

Chilke said: “At this moment take a cab to the spaceport, board the first packet out to Diogenes Junction on Clarence Attic, at the base of the Wisp. Once you walk across the terminal and mix into the crowds, you’ll be lost forever.”

Kathcar scowled. “That is a cheerless prospect.”

“Still, it is our best advice,” said Glawen. ‘“It has been a pleasant association. we all have profited, and even Overman Vambold seemed happy.”

          Kathcar grunted. “There is nothing to be gained by citing grievances or inveighing against injustice; am I right in this?”