“I think,” said Voraz to MacAdam and the baron, “that we can work together splendidly! It is banking right after my own heart!”
They laughed. The small gray men gathered their papers and left.
"Wheeoo and whuff!" said MacAdam, grinning from ear to ear. “We're free and clear and sailing like birds!” He looked at Jonnie. “Thanks in no small part to you, laddie!”
Chapter 5
MacAdam and Baron von Roth were picking up their papers, admiring the signatures, getting ready to leave.
Jonnie said, “How did you get those directors in Snautch to pay enough attention to you to listen?”
The baron boomed a laugh. “It was the way we started our account. It went all through the bank in seconds. Since the
Psychlos hogged it and it was already scarce, gold in the Gredides is soaring at half a million credits an ounce. We opened our account with gold. Your gold, Jonnie. Near a ton of it. We melted it into ingots some time ago. Almost broke our back lugging it into the bank. They hadn't seen that much gold in a century!”
Jonnie laughed. “So even Terl's gold came in handy.”
“After all that work at the lode,” said MacAdam, “that gold belonged to you and the crews! We'll bring it home, if you want. But it's on exhibit right this minute behind armored glass in what's left of the main foyer of the Galactic Bank in Snautch! Historic gold, Jonnie."
“Another thing,” said Jonnie, “what did you do with Ker that got him to sign those papers?”
“Ker?” said the baron. “Well for one thing, he's your friend, Jonnie, and we said it would help you. But Stormalong saw your views of Psychlo that night and he told Ker it was one dead planet. You never saw such relief! He's always felt hunted by them. So as the last official Planet Head– he even had his appointment papers and they're attached to the deed– he was really glad to be rid of it. We promised him a standard employment contract minus the clause to ship the body home. We let him keep the few hundred thousand credits he hooked out of the loot of his predecessor and guaranteed him breathe-gas for the rest of his life. I hope we can fulfill the latter.”
Jonnie thought of the moon, Fobia. Yes, they could pump tons of it into bottles with the transshipment rig. “No pain. Easy.”
Jonnie watched them packing up and then said, “You two certainly did a brilliant job! Really extraordinary.”
They grinned at him. “We had a good example. You!”
“But,” said Jonnie, “how did you know to word that Intergalactic sale contract that way for Terl to sign?”
MacAdam laughed. “When Brown Limper Staffor tried to use it to secure his new currency issue, we saw that it wasn't a legal contract. Terl had even tried to forge his own signature!” He had a copy of the original and it was a ridiculous mess. “So the baron and I got to thinking. It had been nearly eleven months since you sent those bombs to Psychlo and there had been no counterattack. If Psychlo were gone, then according to Ker, there wasn't much chance of other mining planets having enough breathe-gas left. They'd all be dead.”
“So,” said the baron, “we took a banker's chance and worded it so that it was valid either way.”
“And there's one additional reason,” said MacAdam, “knowing how you operate. If you set out to destroy Psychlo, which you did, we put our bets on the fact that you had really done it. And we were right!”
“You can't go very wrong putting your chips on Jonnie," said the baron. He hitched a stack of documents under his arm and picked up a bulging briefcase, looking around to see if they had everything. “Then, we're all set.”
“Oh, no, we're not!” said Sir Robert. His tone was so positive and censorious that they stopped and looked at him, startled.
“I think,” said Sir Robert, “that it's a wee bit disgraceful, the way you use this poor lad!”
“I don't understand!” said MacAdam, shocked.
“You use his picture on Earth currency, you use his energy and ideas to further your own ends. You own the bulk of sixteen universes. You're now plotting to put his face on Galactic money. And here he is, poor as a church mouse. Why, he doesn't even collect his own pilot pay that I know of! I know you're going to lend him money for a factory. But what's that? just a plan to get him in debt. You should be ashamed of yourselves!” And he meant it.
He couldn't have had more effect on MacAdam and the baron if he'd shot them with a stun gun.
Jonnie had tried to stop Sir Robert the moment he had gotten an inkling of what the old Scot was saying. Jonnie didn't think he needed any money: if he was hungry he could always go out and hunt. But Sir Robert's hand had stopped him.
The baron looked at MacAdam and MacAdam looked at the baron. Clearly they were two very puzzled men.
Sir Robert just kept on glaring at them. It was very uncomfortable. Finally, Sir Robert said, “You might at least give him a little payment for using his picture!”
Suddenly a light seemed to dawn on MacAdam's face. He dropped his bundled documents on the table and began to rifle through a near-bursting attachee case. He found what he was looking for and, holding it, sat in a chair before them.
“Oh, Jonnie, Jonnie, please forgive us. It is plain you don't know.” He began to open up some documents.
“When you never mentioned it,” said the baron, “we thought you didn't want it known.”
MacAdam was holding out the information announcement of the charter of the bank. “The Earth Planetary Bank was chartered by the original, valid, thirty-Chief Council. This was the information sheet that was released about it.” He took the second document he held and opened it. “But this is the actual charter as passed. The actual charter is the only one valid under law and the baron and I have wondered many times why they were different. But do you remember who was sometimes acting as secretary of the original Council?”
The information sheet on the charter mentioned only MacAdam and Baron von Roth. The baron and MacAdam looked at each other and in chorus said, “Brown Limper Staffor!"
“For reasons of his own,” said
MacAdam, “he miscopied the resolution for public release. We stupidly thought you didn't want it disclosed.”
He opened up the original charter and there at the top, ahead of the names of Baron von Roth and Andrew MacAdam, was the name, bright and clear: Jonnie Goodboy Tyler!
“Haven't you ever noticed we always try to ask your opinion of any big deals?” pleaded the baron, very contrite.
“You were doing so many things more important that we just carried on,” said MacAdam. “But Sir Robert! This lad is the owner of a third part of the Earth Planetary Bank. By charter!”
The baron said to Sir Robert, "Jonnie now owns two-ninths or about twenty-two percent of the Galactic Bank and a third of Intergalactic Mining
Company.” He turned to MacAdam. “Maybe we should make it more.”
MacAdam looked at Sir Robert. “Did you think we would leave the poor lad, as you call him, out in the cold? He also owns part of that ton of gold. And all together you'd need a computer to add up his money. It 's in the quintillions! He's the richest poor lad these sixteen universes have ever seen, including the late Emperor of Psychlo!"
Sir Robert let go of Jonnie and suddenly began to laugh. He punched Jonnie in the shoulder. “Get along with you, you church mouse in disguise.” He looked at the others. “Aye, gentlemen, I’ll let it be and say enough's enough. Just barely, mind, just barely! Say,” he added, “maybe you should go out there and buy him half a dozen of those fancy lords for his gillies!”