Arnheim rubbed his chin, then shook his head. "As impressive as this sounds, you must realize that A&BCE has no desire to be in the circus business. As to loaning you the money by financing the construction, well..." He held out his hands. "... How could I face my stockholders, especially with your record? Eighty million is a lot of credits."
"I'm not asking you to loan me the credits on the basis of my record, my honor, or my anything. Check out those projections—"
"John, you know as well as I do that circuses are disaster prone. What if—" Arnheim stopped as he noticed his accountant trying to get his attention. "What is it, Milt?" "Karl, if we could talk alone for a moment?" "Of course." He faced O'Hara. "If you would excuse us for a moment John?"
O'Hara noticed the door opening behind him. "Sure. Remember to check out those chips."
Arnheim nodded and O'Hara turned and left the room, the door closing silently behind him. Standing in the outer office, a slender man dressed in an ill-fitting suit waited. "Any luck, Mr. John?"
O'Hara shrugged. "Don't know yet. That polecat accountant, Milt Stone, wanted a private skull session. Assuming we get the ship, how long would it take you to scrape up the acts and additional troupers?"
Sticks Arlo, O'Hara's Director of Performers, shook his head, then rolled up his eyes to look at the ceiling. "My guess is a month—six weeks at the outside."
O'Hara nodded. "Good. It'll take A&BCE's orbiting shipyard about three months to build the ship, if they get right on it. In making up the designs I made certain the designers incorporated A&BCE's standard components wherever possible. What about the additional animals?"
"The Boss Animal Man is beating the brush right now. He says the official line is a definite no on transporting any animals off Earth. The unofficial line is: money talks."
The door to Arnheim's office opened and the accountant emerged carrying the papers and chips. "Mr. O'Hara?"
The Governor frowned. "Yes?"
"We will have to examine all this very carefully before drawing up any papers, but it looks as though you have yourself a ship. Have you a name for it yet?"
O'Hara stood stunned for a moment, then he slapped Sticks on the arm and repeated the gesture on the accountant's arm. "Name? You bet I have a name. It's to be called the City of Baraboo."
"What a curious name? Does it have a meaning?"
O'Hara slapped the accountant on the back. "I'll say it does! Baraboo, Wisconsin, is where the Big One was born. Big Bertha—Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Combined Shows—the biggest circus the Earth ever saw. And when the City of Baraboo takes to the star road, it will have a show half again as big as RB&BB!"
The accountant nodded and edged off. "Well, you'll want something in writing pretty fast, then, and so I'd best get to work."
Sticks pushed the outer office door open and held it for the Governor. "Mr. John, I never heard you say you had a name for the ship."
O'Hara stepped through the open door. "Just thought of it. City of Baraboo. I like the sound of that."
"It's okay."
"Okay?!"
"I mean we do have a few other things to think about right now—like putting together the biggest circus this world has ever seen, and paying for it until we can begin trouping."
O'Hara rubbed his chin. "Hmmm." He faced Sticks, nodded, then cocked his head toward the elevators. "I guess we better get to it then."
FIVE
In a room like a million other budget, no-frills, nursing-home units, an old man in his bed picked up his bowl of fiber-rich nutritionally amplified oatmeal, held it over the floor, inverted it, and let it fall. Nurse Bunnis opened the door and poked in her head. Immediately her painted smile cracked the layers of powder on her cheeks. "Now, now, Mister Bolin, have we dropped our oatmeal again?"
"No." Abner Bolin folded his thin arms.
Nurse Bunnis propelled her fundament into the room and looked beside the bed. "What is this, Mister Bolin? We have too dropped our oatmeal."
"No. I dropped my oatmeal. Your oatmeal is already another layer of lard on that spare tire of yours."
The nurse shook her head. "My, my, but aren't we cross today? Now I'll send a girl in to clean up the mess, then I'll feed you myself. I know those old fingers of yours aren't what they used to be."
"Stuff it in your ear, ratbag! You get close enough to stick that foul slop in my mouth, and I'll bite off your big, fat nose!"
Nurse Bunnis continued shaking her head as she reached under her arm, withdrew a newspaper, and placed it on the old man's lap. "Here's your Billboard, Mister Bolin."
He picked up the paper, opened it, and held it in front of his face. "Umph."
Nurse Bunnis tapped her toe on the floor and folded her arms. "Mister Bolin, if you insist on being cranky, I'll have to call the doctor."
Bolin lowered the paper and peered over the top. "You want me to tell you where else you can stuff it, ratbag?"
The nurse held her arms at her sides, turned red, then stormed to the door. She opened it, then faced the old man in the bed. "I don't see why you spend your whole allowance on that stupid newspaper. You're too old, and anyway there aren't any circuses anymore. Why don't you let me cancel your subscription? That way you could buy one of those paper-cutting games that so many of the patients are finding popular—"
A wrinkled hand reached out from behind the opened newspaper, grabbed the stainless-steel water pitcher, and flung it in the general direction of the door. Nurse Bunnis, from frequent practice, was into the hallway with the door closed behind her before impact. As the pitcher hit the door and clattered to the floor, Abner Bolin lowered the paper to his lap, slid down on his mattress, and lowered his head to his pillow. He felt the tears tempt his eyes, but he fought them back.
"Damned old ratbag." He let his head fall to the right and he stared at the blank, featureless wall. He saw a fading image of his old self, his motley of red and yellow satin, his red cap and bells. There was Peru Abner, dancing and falling on the shavings, the golden blasts of laughter in his ears. The calliope stomping out the steam music that sent bagpipes running home to mother, fingers stuck in tender ears. He shook his head and looked back at the door. Today is today, he thought, and prepared himself for the next round with Nurse Bunnis. While he waited, he picked up his paper and began reading.
Doctor Haag, frowning through a beard and mustache, came to a halt in front of the door and turned toward Nurse Bunnis. "I cannot be bothered by every one of these old flumes that refuses to gum his oatmeal."
"Doctor, Mister Bolin became violent."
"Humph!" He turned and pushed open the door. "Well, where is he?"
Nurse Bunnis stepped into the room. The mussed bed was empty, the closet door was open, and the newspaper was scattered on the floor. As the doctor pulled his head out of the closet, Nurse Bunnis puffed her way up from the floor carrying a sheet of newsprint. "Doctor Haag!"
"The closet's empty. Have you found something?"
"Look." With a pudgy finger she pointed toward an ad line. It read: "Peru Abner, where are you?"
"What does that mean?"
Nurse Bunnis smiled. "He told me. It means that a show is looking for him." She read the ad's headline, then frowned. "This O'Hara's Greater Shows auditioning in New York is Where he'll be going. Should we... report him?"
Haag shook his head. "He's not a prisoner, and we can use the bed." He turned and left the room. Nurse Bunnis reread the ad, came to the line "Peru Abner, where are you?" then she crumpled up the paper and held it against her ample breast. She thought a moment, then nodded.