Phule's Paradise (38 page)

     
"That's a surprisingly weak offer, coming from you, Mrs. Pruet," Phule said stiffly. "In exchange for my letting you go, you're proposing to give me a promise in writing that you won't try to gain control of the Fat Chance-something you haven't been able to do so far and would find doubly difficult to attempt from jail?"

     
"Don't be crass, Mr. Phule," Maxine said, signing the paper in front of her with a flourish and setting the pen aside. "What I have here is a document assigning Mr. Rafael's loan agreement with me over to you, or more specifically, your Space Legion company. That will negate my interest, not to mention my primary weapon, in taking over this facility. Allow me to walk away from this, and you can renegotiate more favorable payment terms for Mr. Rafael, accept the scheduled payment, or eliminate the debt completely."

     
She picked up the paper and extended it toward the commander.

     
"Well, Captain?" She smiled. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Journal #250

Maxine Pruet's capitulation effectively ended the challenging portion of this assignment. All that remained was the cleaning up of a few details, and, of course, normal guard duty.

     
Anyone who believes that a cease-fire, surrender, or treaty automatically means the end of hostilities, however, lacks even the shallowest awareness of military history ... or even a general history of mankind ...

The meeting in Phule's suite was originally intended as an informal debriefing with his officers. Colonel Battleax came calling, however, with a large bottle of excellent brandy, and the gathering soon took on a more relaxed, social atmosphere.

     
"One thing I'll grant you, Captain Jester," the colonel said as she raised her glass, the most recent of several, in a mock toast. "Things are certainly never dull around you."

     
"Hear, hear!" Lieutenant Rembrandt agreed, raising her own glass. She was finally starting to relax from her brief stint as acting company commander, and the combination of the brandy and relief was making her a little owlish.

     
"Of all the possible outcomes of this debacle," Battleax continued, shaking her head, "the one thing I never thought I'd see was Maxine Pruet presenting you with a unit commendation-on stellarwide network, no less-with the gratitude of the Lorelei Casino Owners Association for successfully preventing organized crime from taking over the Fat Chance Casino!"

     
She let out a sudden bark of laughter, nearly spilling her drink.

     
"I thought she handled it rather well ... all things considered," Phule said, grinning. "Actually, though, it was a logical move for her, if you stop to think about it. I mean, she is the president of the association, which isn't surprising considering that she owns the lion's share of all the casinos on the space stations except the Fat Chance. By making a big thing of organized crime being repelled from the Fat Chance, she implies that it's not anywhere else on Lorelei. Basically she got a lot of favorable free publicity out of a bad situation. She's a sharp old bird, I'll give her that. Oh well, at least Jennie got her exclusive story."

     
"True," the colonel said. "Of course, the way she glossed things over with half-truths and distortions, there might be a bigger future for her as a popular-fiction, writer. I had trouble sorting out exactly what happened, and I was there-for most of it, anyway."

     
"Just one thing puzzles me, Captain," Armstrong said from his seat on the sofa. "What was that bit she was saying about welcoming you to the Casino Owners Association?"

     
The company commander made a face, then took another sip of brandy before answering.

     
"I was going to sit on this for a while," he said, "but we might be stuck with part ownership of the Fat Chance for a while."

     
The lieutenant frowned. "How so? I thought our share was going back to Rafael once he paid off the loan."

     
"That's the problem," Phule said. "I had a meeting with Gunther earlier today, and it seems he might not be able to pay off the loan."

     
"Why not?" Battleax demanded. "I thought you and your hard cases pretty much eliminated the cheats that were going to bleed off the profits."

     
"We did," Phule said. "The trouble is, there wasn't that much profit to start with. Gunther's big plan was to draw customers by giving better odds that the other casinos on Lorelei. Unfortunately the odds he gave were so favorable to the guests that his profit margin was next to nothing. The reason I haven't said anything is that I'm still trying to makeup my mind as to where to go from here. Do we give him an extension of the loan, or do we go ahead and accumulate forty-nine percent of the ownership?"

     
"Something you might want to consider, Captain," the colonel said, staring into her glass as she twirled it between her hands. "Mr. Rafael may not want to buy back your shares. I can see certain advantages to him in keeping you as a silent partner, with a vested interest in the continued success of the Fat Chance."

     
"It's funny you should say that." The commander smiled wryly. "Beeker raised the same point. I may want to make a quick audit of Gunther's books at some point. At the very least, I want him to ease his payout odds down until they're more in line with the other casinos."

     
"By the way, where is Beeker?" Rembrandt said, peering around the room as if expecting to discover the butler hiding behind the furniture. "I'd like to buy him a drink sometime now that things have eased up a little."

     
"He has the night off," Phule said. "In fact, I believe he has a date."

     
"You mean with the Ice Bitch again?" Rembrandt scowled. "I don't know why you don't try harder to discourage that, Captain. That woman gives me the creepy-crawlies."

     
"I figure who Beeker sees is his own business," the commander said. "Since you asked, though, I believe he's seeing Dee Dee Watkins tonight."

     
"Now, there's a mismatch," the lieutenant growled, refilling her glass.

     
"You see something wrong with a starlet showing interest in a lowly butler?" Phule said, his voice chilling slightly.

     
"No ... I mean I don't know what he sees in her."

     
"I do," Armstrong smirked.

     
Rembrandt stuck her tongue out at him.

     
"Speaking of Ms. Watkins," Armstrong said, "there is a situation that's come up that you should be aware of, Captain."

     
"Now what?"

     
"Well, sir"-Armstrong sneaked a wink at Rembrandt, who grinned in return-"you know that fake holo-movie we threw together as an excuse to evacuate the complex? It seems we've gotten a raft of calls both from people who want to invest in the film as backers and from outfits that want to bid on exclusive distribution rights. So far Mother's just been taking names and messages, but eventually someone is going to have to call them back and let them all know there's no movie. Remmie and I have talked it over, and we agree that you're the logical person to handle that ... sir."

     
The commander frowned. "Why?"

     
"Well, aside from the fact that you have more experience dealing with money people, there's the fact that-"

     
"No," Phule interrupted. "I meant why tell them that there's no movie?"

     
"Sir?"

     
"Why not just form a film company and make the movie? Between the backers and the distributors, you already have the main necessary ingredient: money. If anything, it sounds like it might be a worthwhile investment for the company fund."

     
"But we don't know anything about making movies!" Armstrong protested.

     
"So hire people that do to run it for us," the commander said. "People like ... say, actors and stuntmen? Maybe even a cameraman? I'll bet that any aspect of the industry they can't cover, they'll know someone who can."

     
"My God!" Battleax said, starting to giggle uncontrollably. "That's so outrageous, it just might work!"

     
"No reason why it shouldn't," Phule said. "It's got a lot more going for it than most of the companies I bought or founded when I was first starting out. Heck; we even have Dee Dee Watkins signed to a multiple-movie contract."

     
"She's going to scream bloody murder when she finds out," Rembrandt said. "Can I be the one to tell her, Captain? Please?"

     
"First, let me review the contract with Lex," the commander insisted. "I think we're going to have to renegotiate it with fairer terms. It doesn't really pay in the long run to have your contract help sullen and bitter because they think they're being exploited."

     
"Oh, that's no fun!" Rembrandt said, dropping into a mock sulk.

     
Phule grinned. "You'd be surprised, Lieutenant. I didn't say we were going to give her a super offer just something a bit fairer than what she's already signed. If anything, it can be a real hoot negotiating a new contract with someone who's already signed off on a bad deal, especially if they know that if they don't agree to the new terms, the old deal stands. If you'd like, you can handle the first rounds on that discussion."

     
"Thank you, sir!" The lieutenant beamed, and blew him a kiss, to boot.

     
"You know, Captain Jester," Battleax said, "the more I hear about this, the more I find myself thinking about investing some of my own money in it, if there's still openings for new backers. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner-that and a few other things."

     
"A few other things like what, Colonel?" Phule said warily.

     
Battleax hesitated, glanced at the lieutenants, then shrugged.

     
"I suppose there's no harm in at least mentioning this in the current company." She smiled. "After seeing your junior officers in action, I think it's time we discussed their next promotion. If you agree with me, I think they're just about ready for commands of their own."

     
Startled by this unexpected turn in the conversation, the lieutenants exchanged glances.

     
"I ... That really isn't necessary, Colonel," Rembrandt stammered. "I can't speak for Lieutenant Armstrong, but I'm quite happy right where I am."

     
"If given a choice, sir," Armstrong said, "I'd prefer to continue my training under Captain Jester."

     
"We'll see," the colonel said. "In the meantime ..."

     
She broke off with a frown as Phule's wrist communicator began to beep insistently.

     
"Really, Captain. Isn't there any way you can put a Do Not Disturb sign on that thing?"

     
"As a matter of fact, I did," Phule said as he opened the channel. "Jester here!"

     
"Hey, Big Daddy!" Mother's voice chirped at him. "Sorry to bother you, but I got General Blitzkrieg on the line. You up to talking to him, or should I tell him you're in jail overnight?"

     
"I'll take it," the commander said. "Hang on a second."

     
"Shall we leave, Captain?" Armstrong offered, starting to rise to his feet.

     
"Don't bother," Phule said. "But it might be better if you could all move to the far side of the room, so the holo cameras can't pick you up."

     
He waited for a moment while his visitors gathered up their drinks and moved over against the wall, then opened communications again.

     
"All right, Mother," he said. "Patch him through on the regular communications gear."

     
"You got it. Here he comes."

     
Phule stepped in front of the communications console that was a part of the furnishing of his quarters and/or office wherever he went, and a few seconds later the image of General Blitzkrieg materialized before him.

     
"Good evening, General," he said.

     
"I caught your showboating for the media, Captain Jester," Blitzkrieg growled without greeting or preamble. "Looks like you came out smelling like a rose ... again."

     
"Thank you, sir," Phule said gravely. "It was-"

     
"Of course," the general continued, ignoring the response, "I also saw some preliminary footage from what's supposed to be a new holo-movie being shot there on Lorelei ... except that it has some of your troops in it, and they're doing an incredible amount of damage to the very complex they're supposed to be guarding!"