Janice clasped her hands in front of her, looking for an opening to bid her employer good night. "Sir, I—"
"Janice, by the end of this season, O'Hara will be ruined. He's on the rocks now, and he has to take that offer. He just has to!"
"Yessir."
The black mass turned, and Janice could again see the city lights reflected from Arnheim's unblinking eyes. "In a few months, O'Hara's name won't be worth the spit it takes to say it."
Janice saw the black mass's head nod, then become still. "Good night, Mr. Arnheim." She waited for an answer, and when none came, she turned, opened the door, and left the office. As she closed the door behind her, she nodded at a mousy fellow clad in gray-and-black plaids. "It's no use, Mr. Stone."
Milton Stone nodded, then smiled. "That's it, then. The board can't stop the current stunt he's pulling in his personal vendetta, but we can certainly cut off his water after tomorrow." He nodded again, then left.
Janice looked at Arnheim's door and wondered if she should extinguish the lights to the outer office. Karl Arnheim always used to storm over every needless expenditure, although of late he seemed obsessed with other things. But, he'd need the light to find his way to the elevators if he went home. Janice shrugged. Karl Arnheim hadn't gone home for three days. She turned off the lights and left.
TWENTY-ONE
Route Book, O'Hara's Greater Shows June 6th, 2144
After getting kicked off Wallabee for our little tiff with the Abe Show, O'Hara's Greater Shows was decidedly between a mineral mass and an unyielding location. It was not only that interrupting the show's schedule interfered with the Governor's payments on the City of Baraboo, although this weighed heavily upon O'Hara's mind. Erkev IV, the Monarch of Ahngar, had come through with eighty million credits when nothing less would save the ship, and the Governor felt a special obligation to make good the loan. If the 2144 season had gone as well as had been expected, the loan would have been paid off by laying up time. But, after having a third of our scheduled stands blown by being evicted from Wallabee, O'Hara had doubts about meeting the payroll.
We had made orbit around Ahngar to replace the equipment and people lost in the contest with the Abe Show, and the Governor was working with the route man, Rat Man Jack, trying to piece together a makeshift route to fill out the season. There were only three planets within an economical distance of Vistunya and Gro-leth—our two remaining scheduled planets—and none of the three had ever been played by O'Hara's, or any other show. Deciding upon a new planet is very complicated, involving a great deal of investigation. Visiting one of the three untried planets, if the stand was unsuccessful, would ruin us. The Governor had gone over the information that he had on the planets, and had just about decided to run out the first third of the season on Ahngar. It was too recent to play the larger cities again, but he figured there were probably enough smaller towns remaining that we could keep losses down and break even for the season.
Rat Man and I were in the Baraboo's wardroom cutting up jackpots, and becoming very depressed about the season, when Fish Face Frank, the sideshow director, came by and told us that we were wanted in the Governor's office. Fish Face went with us, and when we arrived, the Governor nodded and introduced us to a very dapper fellow, striped trousers and maroon frock coat with rings on six of his fingers and a big shiner stuck in his pearl-colored cravat. He had one of those skinny, straight mustaches, and black hair greased back against his head.
The Governor pointed at us in turn. "This is Fish Face Frank Gillis, director of the kid show. He'll be giving the orders." The man nodded, held out a hand, and smiled as he shook hands with Fish Face. "Rat Man Jack Savage, our route man, and Warts Tho. Warts keeps the route book." Nods and hand shaking. "Boys, this is Boston Beau Dancer."
The three of us could have been pitched off our pins by a feather. Everyone had heard of the notorious Boston Beau, King of the Grifters, but we had never expected to see him trouping with our show. Everyone knew what the Governor thought of grifters. We mumbled a few appropriate responses, then sat down on chairs around the Governor's desk.
O'Hara rubbed his chin, cleared his throat, then leaned back in his chair. "Boys, you know what kind of trouble we're in. Boston Beau has made me an offer that I can't bring myself to turn down. In exchange for the usual privileges, he will pay enough to guarantee the remainder of the debt on the Baraboo, and to assure us a profit for the first third of the season. This means—"
"Grifters?" Fish Face went red. "I don't get it, Mr. John! O'Hara's has never had grifters before. What about our reputation?"
O'Hara shrugged. "I can't see any other way out, Fish Face. I hope you'll see—"
"I won't see nothing! I quit!" Fish Face turned and stormed out of the compartment.
The Governor turned back to Boston Beau. "I apologize, but it'll take some time for Fish Face to get used to the idea."
Boston Beau smiled, displaying two gold teeth among his otherwise immaculate collection. "A man in my profession cannot afford to take offense, Mr. O'Hara." He drew a small lace cloth from his sleeve, sniffed at it, then tucked it back in the sleeve. "To make certain we have our terms straight, in exchange for my payment to you of twenty-two million credits, my boys will take over the ticket windows, run the games, and we will keep all that we make. Also, I must fix my own towns and keep my people separated from the rest of the show."
"That's for the first planet. If we are both satisfied at the conclusion of the first third of the season, you have an option to renew your offer, Boston Beau." The Governor nodded at me. "Also, there is the thing I discussed with you."
Boston Beau looked at me, then smiled. "That's hardly a condition. I would be honored."
The Governor nodded. "Good."
Boston Beau turned to Rat Man, then back to O'Hara. "I know there will be ripe pickings wherever you put down the show, but I am curious to know where it will be."
O'Hara looked at Rat Man. "Read Boston the figures on Chyteew, Rat Man."
Rat Man Jack pulled a pad from his pocket, opened it, then smiled. "Yes, Mr. John. The population is concentrated into urban production and commercial centers. No circus has performed on Chyteew before, but there are entertainments and they are supported. The gross product of the planet for the year 2143 was ninety-one quadrillion credits, with first quarter figures for this year showing a sixteen percent increase—"
Boston Beau held up his hand. "That's all I need to know." He stood, bent over Mr. John's desk, and shook his hand. "I'll have my people and the money together and up here in ten hours." He turned toward me. "Gome along, Warts. You're to stick to me like a second skin."
I turned toward O'Hara. "Mr. John?"
The Governor nodded. "Boston Beau and his people represent a distasteful, but historically valid, part of the circus. I've arranged with him to have you accompany him during his stay with us, and he has promised to talk your ear off about his operations."
Boston Beau bowed as the door opened, then held out his hand. "After you, Warts."
I shrugged, stood, and walked through the door.
TWENTY-TWO
June 7th, 2144
I was distressed, as was the rest of the company, at turning The Circus into a grift show. Despite this, I quickly found myself caught up in the strange world of the "lucky boys." Boston Beau and I took a shuttle down planetside, then hopped around to several different cities, each time picking up one or two of Boston's associates. "A grifter can always make a living on his own, Warts, but to make the real coin, you have to be tied in with a show. A circus is the natural habitat of the Trimabulis Suckerus; therefore, that is where a true scientist should observe and pluck them."