"Looks very good, doesn't it?" Herman asked Grey, who was still silent.
"For the Italy player, it does," said Grey, and Herman turned in surprise.
"You mean you didn't buy it?"
Grey looked a little embarrassed. "Actually," he said, "I was afraid of this."
"Afraid of what?"
"Someone's apparently been speculating in Italy. My staff gave me the report when I came up three weeks ago. Someone's been buying and selling Italy in closed bids ever since you went under last."
"That's illegal!"
"Weep, then. We've done it ourselves, you know. Shall we call in an investigation? All the books open?"
"Why didn't you get a good proxy and keep it?"
"They pulled it off again, Herman. The bidding was last night at midnight. Not precisely prime time. But I placed my bid. Frankly, it was ridiculously high. But no taker. The player who got it bid twice what I did."
"Then you should have bid higher still!"
Grey shook his head. "Couldn't. I only have fifty percent power of attorney, remember?"
Herman gasped in spite of himself. "Fifty percent! Grey, fifty percent? It was more than fifty?"
Grey nodded. "More than fifty liquid, anyway. I couldn't match it. Not from your funds. And I just didn't have enough loose money around to add any of my own."
"Well, who's the player?"
"Believe it or not, Herman, it's an assistant minister of colonization, a real flunkie. It's his first time in the broadcast games. No record at all. And no way he could have the money to buy that place in the game himself."
"Find out who the organization is, Grey, and buy that position."
Grey shook his head. "I don't have enough money. Whoever's buying it is serious, and they've got more money than you."
Herman felt weak and cold. This was not expected. Of course there were always speculators in the games. But Herman always paid well for his position, and because he had contributed most to the slot, when he was awake no one could buy Italy but him, as long as he offered at least fifteen percent over the last purchase price. But now the purchase price had been more than half his wealth.
"It doesn't matter," Herman told Grey. "Borrow. Liquidate. I'll give you ninety percent power of attorney. But buy Italy."
"What if they won't sell?"
Herman leaped to his feet, so that he towered (delicious!) over Grey. "They can't! They can only sell to me. They have to be speculating on stripping me. Well, let 'em. This time Italy takes over the world, Grey. And the bets won't be just seventeen percent. We'll be in for the long odds. Do you understand?"
"They don't have to sell to you, Herman," Grey said. "The player who has it isn't on somec."
"I don't care. I'll outlast them. They have to quit sometime. Pay their price. They have a price."
Grey nodded, unsure. Herman turned away, and heard Grey shuffle softly through the carpet as he left. Herman switched on the screen as his stomach churned. Italy was valuable, but only because of Herman Nuber. Only a genius could have taken that second-rate country and made it a world power. Only Herman Nuber, the greatest International Game player in history, dammit. They're just trying to rob me, Herman concluded. Well, let 'em.
And then, though he knew it would torture him, he flashed the screen through to a close-up of current military operations by the Italian Empire. There was a border skirmish in Korea. India was becoming hostile. The Italian agents were doing well at subverting Japanese rule in Arabia.
Everything's perfect, Herman said softly. In three days I can have this game flying. In three days, if I can once get Italy.
Grey didn't come or call all day. By evening, Herman was a nervous wreck. He had already had to watch as three perfect opportunities for quick, decisive action had been missed by the idiot playing Italy. Of course, that kind of thing happened all the time when Herman was on somec-- but he was asleep, he didn't have to watch. And still Grey didn't come.
The buzzer. Not Grey, since the door opened to his hand. Must be the woman. Herman stroked the release strip and the door opened. She was young and had a beautiful smile. Just what the doctor ordered.
At first, because she was beautiful and cheerful and good at her job, Herman forgot the game, or at least was able to concentrate on something else. But then, even as she tried to arouse him again, the pent-up worry flooded back, and he sat up on the bed.
"What's wrong?"
Herman shook his head.
"Too tired?"
Good a reason as any. No reason to pour out your heart to an edna.
"Yeah. I'm tired."
She sighed, leaned back again on the pillows. "Don't I know it. I get tired, too. They give me shots so I can keep going for hours, but it's so nice to get a breather."
A talker. Damn. "Want something to eat?"
"We aren't supposed to."
"Diet or something?"
"Naw. Sometimes they try to drug us."
"I won't drug you."
"Rules are rules," the woman insisted. The girl, rather.
"You're pretty young."
"Working my way through college. I'm older than I look. But they can rent me juvenile, too, so we all get more money."
Money money money. Pay for sex and you get a treatise on the state of the economy. "Look, kid, why not go now?"
"You paid for all night," she said, surprised.
"Fine. You were wonderful. But I'm tired."
"They don't like giving a refund."
"I don't want a refund."
She looked doubtful, but when he started dressing, so did she. "That's an expensive habit," she said.
"What is?"
"Paying for love and then not using up what you pay for."
"Well, right," Herman said, then added wryly, "we wouldn't want any extra love lying around, would we?"
"Everybody's a comic," she answered, but even at that the habits of the trade stayed. It was sexy, her smile and her tone of voice, and for a moment he wondered if he really wanted her to go. But then he thought of Italy and decided he'd rather be alone.
She kissed him good-bye-- it was company policy-- and then left him alone. He sat up all night, watching Italy. The imbecile was letting things go. He could have had Arabia around three in the morning. But instead, he made a ridiculous peace treaty that actually gave up land in Egypt. Stupid! By morning, Herman had fallen asleep, but he woke with a headache and called Grey.
"Dammit, what's happening?" Herman demanded.
"Herman, please," Grey said. "We're working hard here."
"Yeah, and I'm just sitting around here watching Italy turn to crap."
"Didn't you get an edna tonight?"
"What the hell business is that of yours?" Herman snapped. "Buy Italy, Grey!"
"This Abner Doon, the assistant minister of colonization, he's pretty adamant."
"Offer him the moon."
"It's already owned. But I offered him everything else. He just laughed. He just told you to watch the game and you'd see a real genius at work."
"Genius! The man's a moron! Already he--" and Herman launched into a description of the stupidities of the night before.
"Look, I'm not into International Games," Grey finally said. "You know that, that's why you hired me. OK? So let's just have me do my job and you follow the scoreboard."
"So when are you going to do your job?"
Grey sighed. "Do we have to do this on the phone, with Mother's Little Boys listening in?"
"Let 'em listen."
"All right, I've tried to trace who's controlling this Doon. The man has connections, but they're all legitimate. I can't find a bankroll, all right? So how can I get the people who are paying him to sell out if I can't find who's paying him?"