The senator chuckled. “In actuality, Colonel, my big motivation was to have the honor of meeting you. I have dealt with Mr. Demming and Mr. Rostoff before, in line of my duties, and, of course trust them implicitly.”
Don tried to look interested and sincere and held his peace.
Demming cleared his voice and said, “In view of the fact that Senator Makowski is in a key position so far as the corporation is concerned, it occurred to Max and me that possibly we should, ah, give him a piece of the action, as the old saying goes. He has invariably cooperated most generously with both Max and myself in earlier projects involving the mineral exploitation of Callisto and I am sure that in this more all out effort, his position will make it imperative that we work in full cooperation with him.”
“Yes, indeed,” Rostoff said.
“Of course, in this great crusade,” the Senator said, “you would have my all out support in any case…”
Don said, “What is the problem, gentlemen?” He hadn’t the vaguest idea what they were talking about.
Rostoff said, “Lawrence and I have suggested that one percent of the preferred stock of the Donal Mathers Radioactives Mining Corporation be issued to the Senator.”
Demming said, “And he wished your assurance that you completely concurred.”
“Why, of course,” Don said earnestly. “In fact, I had been considering bringing up the matter myself, except that I had thought in terms of two percent.”
The Senator shone.
Demming and Rostoff glared.
Rostoff got out finally, “We shall have to look into it, Colonel Mathers. You are aware of how thinly stretched we already are.” He came to his feet, followed by the other two. “I’ll confer with you later on, after checking with the executive committee of the board.”
When they were gone, Don snorted in both self-satisfaction and ill humor. He said aloud, “If they keep on passing out chunks of their stock to every crook that comes along with his hand extended, they’ll be running out themselves, the bastards.” He had to laugh at the expression on Rostoff’s face as the three had filed out. The other was going to hit the ceiling the next time he saw Don Mathers. Don didn’t give a damn.
They held the initial broadcast in a comparatively small conference room of the offices of the corporation. The penthouse was too luxurious to fit in with the soon to be mounted campaign for the Simplicity Look. In fact, the conference room itself had been redecorated with a less ostentatious table, less ornate chairs.
Don was alone save for Dirck Bosch and two of the bodyguards, but these sat to one side, so as not to appear on lens. The bodyguards kept their cold eyes roaming continuously over the swarm of Tri-Di technicians, in spite of the fact that all of these had been electronically frisked as they entered the building.
The director finally checked his wrist chronometer, turned and said to Don, “All ready, Colonel?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Don said.
The crew all laughed. Hell it wasn’t as good a bon mot as all that. It was just that he was Colonel Mathers, modest attainer of the Galactic Medal of Honor and anything he said in self-deprecation was humor.
Don, seated at the end of the table, looked down at the speech. At first his coaches had wanted him to memorize it and seem to be speaking off the cuff. It would add to the utter sincerity which was the big ingredient. But Don had killed that, telling them that there wasn’t a chance in the world of his being able to memorize anything as long as this. Besides, if he did it once, from then on every audience he addressed was going to expect it, and Don Mathers was scheduled for a lot of audiences in the near future.
The director pointed a finger at one of the cameras and counted down, one, two, three. A red light went on, indicating the conference room was hot. The director then, spoke, being on lens.
He said simply, “Fellow citizens of the Solar System League, I bring you Colonel Donal Mathers, sole living holder of the Galactic Medal of Honor. Colonel Mathers.” He pointed his finger at Don dramatically, and another camera picked Don up, all three lenses shining at him.
Don looked up directly into them and went into his routine, the routine he had practiced so much with his two coaches.
He said, slowly and distinctly, “The project at hand is the extraction of the radioactives, the ores on the Jupiter satellites and perhaps the Saturn satellite, Titan. This endeavor is the highest top priority in the defense program.”
He paused impressively before continuing.
“It is a job that cannot be done in slipshod, haphazard manner. The system’s need for radioactives cannot be overstressed.
“In short, fellow humans, we must allow nothing to stand in the way of an all out, unified, effort to do this job quickly and efficiently. My associates and I have formed a corporation to manage this crash program. We invite all to participate by purchasing stock. I will not speak of profits, fellow humans, because in this emergency we all scorn them. However, as I say, you are invited to participate.
“Some of the preliminary mining concessions are at present in the hands of individuals or small corporations. It will be necessary that these turn over their holdings to our single all embracing organization for the sake of efficiency. Our experts will evaluate such holdings and recompense the owners.”
Don Mathers paused again for emphasis.
“This is no time for quibbling. All must come in. If there are those who put private gain before the needs of the system, then pressures must be found to be exerted against them. Public opinion will not allow them to profit while the fate of the Solar System is in the balance.
“We will need thousands and tens of thousands of trained workers to operate our mines, our mills, our refineries. In the past, skilled labor on the satellites was used to double or triple the wage rates on Earth. I need only repeat, this is no time for personal gain and quibbling. The corporation announces proudly that it will pay only prevailing Earth rates. We will not insult our employees by “bribing’ them to patriotism through higher wages.”
There was more, along the same lines.
It was all taken very well. Indeed, it was taken with universal enthusiasm.
Si Mullens leaked the fact that the interplanetary hero was taking no salary whatsoever for his contributions.
XVI
Mathers spent the next weeks, the next months, in what was. seemingly a chaos of interviews, speeches and press releases, though many of the last he never saw. The efficient Si Mullens turned them out wholesale, and was more apt to check them, before release, with Demming or Rostoff rather than Don.
Actually, Rostoff and Demming remained in the background. They never allowed themselves to be seen in Don’s company in public, or even when news people were around. They went to considerable effort and expense to suppress any news stories about their being affiliated with the corporation. It wasn’t as hard as all that to do. Between the two of them, they had large financial interests in most of the important media. Those news outlets which they didn’t personally control, largely belonged to fellow members of the financial elite who owed them favors, or possibly not adverse to accumulating some credit with the two men who had already become the wealthiest magnates in the system. No matter what field you were in, it was most likely that sooner or later you’d have some reason to call upon Demming and or Rostoff.
It wouldn’t have been so bad, perhaps, if he could have spent more of his time in a haze of alcohol, but his binges were restricted to after-hours. He had to maintain his Boy Scout image. Supposedly, he didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, and the sighing matrons, un-weds and virgins of the solar system could go to bed at night and dream of marrying—or at least having an affair with—Don Mathers. He was a bachelor. The secret of Alicia was as well kept as that of Eva Braun and her relationship with Hitler.