April 6: And What Goes Around (7 page)

"Probably the
only honest players are the drivers, unless they are the ones telling the small
town police which loads are worth taking. A lot of business in North America
has been a farce for the last century. They make an empty show of following the
letter of the law instead of the spirit of it. It's all a parasitic drag on the
economy. Come on now April, do you believe the government economic statistics
they publish every month?" Jeff asked.

"No, that
didn't take me long to figure out. In fact the last two census surveys have
been pretty useless for anything."

"That's the
conclusion I came to also." Jeff agreed.

"Then the
police in Salado aren't any different than the crooks who hijack a truck. Did
you know a driver won't stop any more at a truck stop that doesn't have armed
security?" April asked him. "At least not a company driver. They're
not allowed and the company is paying the premium for fueling up at a guarded
lot."

"Well, they
don't have to hide the loot like a small crook. Economically you want to look
at the cause of this and the consequences," Jeff told her. "The small
town couldn't collect enough taxes to keep functioning. Once it got to the
point they couldn't support the police department they had to do something or
lose their jobs with the city. They can write traffic tickets, but private
traffic is down and speed traps get publicized. If there aren't enough speeders
they have to write false tickets or starve.

It's a small step
from that to shaking down passengers for cash and jewelry on some pretext. But
not all states have forfeiture laws. And it's
dangerous
. Occasionally
you shake down somebody wealthy enough to give you trouble and every now and
then somebody you stop has far bigger issues than a speeding ticket and he
shoots a cop.

"Stopping a
truck that belongs to a big corporation is a known quality. The driver has no
stake in arguing with you. The truck itself is worth quite a bit if you auction
it off, or you can demand a cash payment from the company to redeem it and not
have to even go to all that much trouble. The goods can be auctioned and a
certain amount skimmed and divvied up between officers. Nobody is going to
scrutinize the manifest. Those spoils are tax free sold on the black market and
the rest goes to auction or a regular buyer who has agreed to take the loads
and redistribute them."

"But Best-Price
may actually close down some stores. All those jobs will be gone and where will
people go to buy their stuff then?" April demanded.

Jeff was amused
but a little dismayed. She was all indignant over strangers and things far away
she couldn't change.

"That's the
larger consequence. The cops in Salado don't care what happens to people in
Austin. They are looking at surviving this week not a couple years from now.
The stores will close up and the parking lots will get gated off and grow up in
weeds. There will be other smaller stores open up that get their goods
delivered in small trucks that can drive around places like Salado. They have
to charge more because they don't have the efficiencies of the big operation,
but they survive. More of the same sort of goods go black market too. It makes
life harder for everybody but it still functions, mostly."

"Isn't there
any higher authority to shut down a police department like that?" April
asked.

"It sort of
depends on the politics of the store owners and the city government. Their own
city government may be afraid to try to rein them in. The local officials live
there and can be intimidated. As far as state or national police – have they
supported the administration in power? If you are a big contributor you may get
some help or they might look the other way. That's why a lot of big businesses
contribute to both sides in an election. No matter who wins they can point out
that they gave to their campaign."

"But, it
cancels out!" April said.

"Apparently
not in their minds," Jeff said. "Too many do it for it not to be
working for them."

"It can't
keep working like this. It's going to bust
all
the way and break
down," April insisted.

"You'd think
so. I appreciate how it offends you to see injustices and stupidity. But you
have to stay detached because predicting
when
is a dangerous game in
business. They can keep coming up with ways to keep it working over and over
when it looks impossible. They change laws and regulations, start wars and
print money. If you get emotionally invested in their failure you may try to set
a time and predict when it won't work anymore. You can lose your shirt. Rather,"
Jeff said, "you can lose
our
collective shirts. A lot of people
have tried to short industries they were
sure
were doomed. Then they
change the rules on you or some big event like a hurricane or a war alters
everything and that bet turns sour."

April nodded.
"I could have made that sort of mistake easily. Thanks."

"My
pleasure," Jeff said. "I wouldn't
let
you make that mistake.
You've started out studying the theoretical side of the economy because that's
where I pointed you when I gave you a reading list at the very start. It's good
to know how Earthies view economics academically. It helps to predict what they
may do.

"But there's
a constant assumption among the professionals down there that history will
repeat in similar circumstances and that behind all the numbers the investors
moving them will act
rationally
. They don't. They may for a time, but
that can all be washed away in minutes by sudden mob movements of fear or
greed. I've been looking more at the political side of it and of course the
history of the politics.

"I didn't
give you
that
to study because every time people act crazy it upsets
you. It's
fine
that you care if the people in Austin won't have a place
to shop, but you're going to see a thousand stories like that. You'll have to
distance yourself from it or you'll be all indignant every day. It'll wear you
down. "

"I had no
idea how complicated it would be when I said we should start a bank,"
April said.

"Oh, but I'm
so glad you did," Jeff said. "It's such a mess that having our own
bank is our best protection. We know we're not going to go to the bank one day
to find our money gone and the doors locked. Not while we own the doors."

"You make me
feel better Jeff. Thanks. I'm going to the club tomorrow for dinner. Do you
want to come along?"

"Sorry, I like
to but have I to be with Dave and one of his customers, but thanks. Have
fun."

"I will. I'll
get Gunny or somebody to go," April said.

You'd think a free
supper and show at one of the best clubs would be easy to give away. Well there
were only
two
nightclubs right now, but still... you could reasonably make
comparisons to New Las Vegas. April thought they were making a very good early
showing at the business for their population level. You didn't expect New York
City level amenities in what was basically a small town. Even a wealthy one. Yet
April was alone after asking three people.

The Fox and Hare
was
busy. It had been so busy of late that April felt obligated to inquire what
evenings were less solidly booked before taking a table. Their host and
maître d'
Phillip Detweiler hadn't wanted
to answer her at first, firmly insisting they would accommodate her at any
time. He'd been equally stubborn when she had earlier suggested she wasn't poor
and in fairness to the other owners she should pay for her service. He'd
pointed out that
he
was one of the other owners and he'd see it paid out
of his share before he's present her with a bill.

April didn't know
if he'd ever reserved a table for himself. He was an owner to do so, but a
minor one and didn't get as large an offsetting cut of the profits. Allowing
him to pay for her would be even less fair so she dropped it. April couldn't
figure out why he felt so obligated to her. She'd never done anything special
for him personally as far as she knew.

She was an owner
but hadn't even been in from the start. She'd inherited it from her brother.
She'd had the sign out front made, and other little suggestions, but Phillip
was here every day making it work. As far as she was concerned what he was
doing was much more valuable, but he always treated her like she was special.

April inquired of
the accountant finally and found out that Wednesdays and Thursdays late in the
month were the slowest days. That appeared to be accurate since there were
three empty tables, something she hadn't seen other days. She was certain there
wouldn't be
any
open on a weekend. Even though everybody she asked had a
commitment, she didn't want to cancel at the last minute on a slow night. She
took a table for two against the wall. The wall side was a nice upholstered
seat and the other side empty because they brought a folding chair if somebody
sat on that side.

The Caprese salad
was a light appetizer. It would leave her hungry enough for the seafood
fettuccine she'd had before and knew to be ample even for her appetite. A
reduced alcohol dry white wine went perfectly and left her clear of mind even
if she started on it before the main course. Her waiter tonight was Jesse
Duval. She'd first met him and his wife Helen almost a year ago. They'd been
visiting Home for life extension therapy, something not legally available at
home in Spain. They had returned to Home recently but insisted they were now
Jesse and Helen instead of James and Elena Alphonses. They never broke their
cover identity with her or anyone else as far as she knew. She knew they
couldn't do that with their doctor, but that was an entirely different matter.

There had been
confused news reports after their return to Earth about high Catholic officials
infected with something and a hunt for terrorists wanted for spreading an
infectious agent. Since some of the common life extension therapies were
administered using a viral carrier she and Gunny suspected the couple had
somehow broken quarantine. If so, they were smart to flee. The crazy Earthies
felt inflicting a longer healthier life on somebody to be a heinous crime.

Jesse had applied
to the Fox and Hare and gotten a serving job with ease. Not even mentioning
April as a reference. He was good looking and projected good humor without it
seeming strained. The host had confided in her that Jesse had already turned
down a couple job offers from customers impressed with his manner. If they only
knew he'd been responsible on Earth for managing a major charity. He was way
over qualified to be a server and would make more from the sort of tips that
were quiet confidence and overheard conversations than cash on the table.

April thought his
wife the brains of the couple at first, but changed her mind and appreciated
him more now. She had the sudden thought she should tell Chen, who was running
Jeff's intelligence efforts, to recruit Jesse. His wife Helen had landed a job
with a small firm that did PR and advertising on Earth for space based clients.
It would surprise her if they both continued working for others long term. They
were smart enough to make more on their own.

It was getting
near the start time for the entertainment this evening. On a quiet Thursday it
would be a singer or a pianist, not a band or a series of acts. Two of the
empty tables filled and with just a couple minutes until the lights dimmed the
last empty table near her in Jesse's section was claimed by a middle aged
couple. April was happy to see it filled on a Thursday.

They were
interesting, no doubt at all they were Earthies, but they had all the signs of
life extension therapies. Their apparent age suggested that they'd been older
than was usual when they got treatment. Tourists were often well dressed, if
Earth in styles, it wasn't cheap to lift to Home after all, but these two were
better dressed than usual. His jacket was perfectly tailored and April knew the
little purse the woman carried was about five thousand EuroMarks. He carried
himself with authority. Not the self-conscious ramrod stiffness of a control
freak but the real self assurance of someone who didn't know what it was to
feel
intimidation.

Phillip, the host held
the lady's chair for her after switching it around so they both faced the
stage. She was obviously used to having that done for her by how smoothly it
went. The host went away and Jesse was serving drinks to the next table over.
Once finished there he tucked the small tray under his elbow and turned to the
newcomers. His face went through shock, then fear and despair. He looked over
each shoulder in turn seeming to be surprised he didn't find hands on him.
April saw something very unusual was happening and triggered her spex early to
record the encounter even before he looked over his shoulders.

When Jesse looked
back at them the man made a small restraining gesture above the edge of the
table, palm down. Jesse bent his knee and for a second April thought he was
going to kneel before them, but the man made the outstretched hand flutter
emphatically and frowned, which seemed to stop him. He was still frozen to the
spot where he was standing, completely flustered and not responding normally.

The host getting the
high sign from the bartender that something was amiss turned back. The woman
saved any confrontation by getting up and hugging Jesse. She looked past him to
the worried host and waved him away with a smile. She was a big woman, as tall
as Jesse and held his elbows to his sides, leaned in close and spoke low to his
ear, smiling and visibly calming him. He finally gave a few nods of agreement
though if he said anything it was too low for April to hear. When she sat back
down Jesse went off to the bar.

He must have
gotten a drink order while the woman was close. He had just a few words with Phillip,
looking embarrassed and leaving him still looking dubious. By the time he returned
and served the couple Jesse seemed composed again.

April sent the
video to Jeff's man Chen, suggesting they should know the identity of this
couple. She didn't expect a quick answer. Sometimes it was several days before
Chen responded to a message from her. This time he answered in a couple
minutes, just as the lights started dimming.

"Jon's people
said they came in two days ago on the regular shuttle from ISSII. They are
traveling as Ferdinando and Sancha Jimenez which seem to be false identities. A
net search and Interpol inquiry shows no hits except similar names of historic
persons."

"Are the
historic personages Spanish royalty?" April asked, having a sudden idea.

There was no
immediate reply. A couple more minutes went by before Chen came back.
"Yes, one of the kings in Spain before it was really one country, King of
Leon and Count of Castile and his wife. The first of the kings of Spain to
claim to be an emperor back in the early ten hundreds. Are you a big history
buff or did you arrive at that by some other route? Sometimes you freak me
out."

"A different
route entirely," April admitted, but volunteered no more. "Would you
please have one of your underlings find photos and brief biographies of the
last king and queen of Spain and send them to my pad?"

"Sure. Any
deadline on that?" Chen asked.

April looked at
the couple. They seemed to be enjoying the lively pianist who was just
starting, had some sort of wine and were sharing a small appetizer. They looked
pretty firmly ensconced for a meal and the show.

"Within the
hour if that is practical. If you need reimbursed for the research this is
personal not mutual business with my partners," April told him.

"That's
easy," Chen said, ignoring her offer. "I'll have it sent to your pad
in a few minutes."

Despite the
misleading way he said it Chen didn't hand it off to a research associate. He
wanted to see this himself. When he looked he was surprised to find the Spanish
succession was in dispute and some turmoil. There hadn't been any big public
stink about it, but apparently the current official head of state and his wife
had retired. They didn't say he had abdicated. It was much more mysterious than
that and involved the 'retirement' of a number of other high government and
Church officials.

Chen looked at the
video April had sent him and the news service photos. It couldn't be... They were
far too young and the Crown and Church were death on Life Extension. But that
nose! You could split logs with a nose like that. The sort plastic surgeons
promise and could only approximate. Their children on the other hand were all
accounted for in recent stories at very public activities.

He forwarded the
files to April's pad, appending information about the apparent chaotic state of
the Spanish secession and hesitated to add anything. Finally he simply said –
"Look at the nose."

Indeed, it was a
magnificent nose. Suitable for looking straight down if one chose to. The owner
didn't look to be minded that way. He was relaxed and eating a steak which was
trying to hide beneath a pile of mushrooms. It amused April when she realized
he was chewing in quarter time to the piano. She wondered if he realized it?
The appetizer tray was gone and she noticed they only had a glass of wine not
the whole bottle.

When Jesse checked
on her she didn't need anything but she asked him, "What is the
bartender's name, Jesse? Does he manage the wine too?"

"Yes, Miss
Lewis. Festus has to wear the sommelier's hat too. We're too small still to
keep one busy full time, and their cellar here is rather small compared to many
Earthside establishments." He thought on it a moment... "In truth
it's small compared to some private collections."

"Have him
come speak with me when he has time," April requested.

"Certainly,
is everything satisfactory?" Jesse barely gave an eyebrow twitch of
concern since April didn't seem unhappy.

"Everything
is lovely. I just need his expertise."

It wasn't long
before April saw somebody else take over at the bar and Festus disappeared. She
thought he'd gone on break or even off shift until he suddenly popped back up
beside her table standing at attention like he was going to be presented a
medal, or stood before a firing squad. Looking at him she realized he'd gone to
the kitchen and removed his apron, cleaned up a bit, combed his hair and put on
a fresh shirt. She'd never spoken to the man so why had he gone to all that
trouble?

"Miss Lewis?
Jesse said you'd like to speak with me."

April scooted over
a little and patted the seat beside her. "Just April is fine. You needn't
be so formal with me. This won't take long but sit down a minute please. I'd
rather our conversation not attract attention. With you standing there and the
pianist between numbers we're the most obvious thing happening in the whole
room."

"I think the
help are invisible to most people," he objected. He did sit however, but
not too close. April moved closer because she intended to speak quietly. He was
surprisingly thin close up. She hadn't noticed from a distance. The long
sleeves covered it a bit, and his face didn't look
thin
, it just sort of
long and hound-doggy. He seemed uncomfortable so she got to the point rather
than torture the poor fellow.

"The
middle-aged couple toward the stage and a bit to our right seem familiar to me.
I think they are Spanish. I'd like to send them drinks and I thought it would
be a nice surprise to send something Spanish. They had wine already with
dinner." April looked and the woman's glass was gone and his had just a
bit left. "Could you suggest something else to send to their table as a
gift?"

He looked much
more comfortable now that the conversation was on ground he knew. "Spanish
liqueurs tend to be very strongly flavored and people usually love them or hate
them. So that's a risky thing to send to their table if you don't know their
tastes. We only have one that has a strong flavor of sloe berries. It will just
kill
your palate for anything subtle after.

"But we have
a Spanish sparkling wine made by the same process as Champagne. It's called
Cava and we have both Freixenet and a few bottles of Codorníu. The ones we have
are just slightly sweet and very appropriate for after dinner. People buy the
Freixenet because it has a fancy bottle. However, I like the Codorníu. It's
served
very
cold and we have it chilled and ready if you like."