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"Frank, you'd better be paying more attention. People all over the world are begging for the chance to help with the Man's Hope project. From other billionaires to children that want to send their lunch money.

"Hundreds of people have been arrested around the world for collecting money under false pretenses. Set up an "official" web site, and I'd bet you'll collect billions. Not investors, at least not most of them. Supporters! They won't demand shares; just the chance to know they were involved in the greatest space adventure of their generation.

"Can't afford it? Hell, man, you can't afford NOT to afford it! Now, shut your damned mouth, and record a nice, public 'thank you' for the man in the Kremlin. Then get that VM-T of yours over to Baikonur. Immediately, if not sooner!"

It took several minutes for Anton to convince Frank, but finally, he succeeded.

"You mean they're not trying to get me anymore?" Frank sounded doubtful.

"I didn't say that," Anton replied. "The stupid Americans still have those charges pending. But if I were you, I'd call my lawyer. That's what everyone does in America, isn't it? I'd bet the U.S. government would jump at the chance to dismiss those ridiculous charges at the first hint of one of those capitalist lawsuits you're all so fond of. Show them how to do it without looking stupid, and they'll probably run you for President."

Frank paused. "Thanks, Anton. I'm going to do just that. I'll call you back."

He called Fred Thomas, his lead attorney, this time using all four of his anonymous servers. He assumed Fred's phone would be tapped. He knew he'd have to keep it short.

"Frank?" Fred said incredulously. "I thought you'd fallen off the planet!"

Frank grinned. "I've tried. Fred, leave your office right now, and go buy a throwaway cell phone. Do it yourself. Buy plenty of minutes, and then use it to call this number in Moscow. It's Dr. Anton Ternayev's office number, and they'll be expecting your call. Give them the number of your throwaway. Then go to a restaurant or bar or some other public place. But watch for friendly strangers. I'll be calling you in a little over an hour."

"Got it, Frank. Are you sure you can still afford my retainer?"

Frank grinned. "If not, you can sue me for it. Anton says that's what we crazy capitalists do."

"He's right. How do you think I can afford a wife and three girlfriends?"

"Only three? You're slipping. I'll call you later."

"Right, Frank," Fred said.

He called Anton's office an hour later, and got the number of Fred's throwaway. He called it.

"Okay, Frank. I'd ask what all this was about, but I already know. You want to come in from the cold."

"Maybe," Frank replied. "But right now, it's still very cold out. Anton says I've been missing a lot, and he suspects the government would like to make all this go away."

"He's right," said Fred. "Hell, man, you're a national hero. I think the CIA agent that brought you in would be fired the next day."

"Well, I'm not about to risk it," Frank said.

"Good idea," Fred said. "Hold on a moment."

There was a pause of about thirty seconds, and then Fred was back. "Sorry," he said. "Somebody just had to have the stool next to mine. Okay, look. I've had feelers from the U.S. Attorney's office as well as the State Department. 'How can we get out of this' feelers."

"It's their ball game," Frank said. "They threw out the first pitch."

"Yeah," Fred replied. "Now they're looking for a way to forfeit without looking bad with the league. Hell. I'm running out of baseball metaphors. Let's just talk plain, all right?"

Frank was grinning. "Works for me. What do they want?"

"They want your word that you won't come after them with the highest of the high-powered lawyers, namely me. The States' Attorney will withdraw those bogus technology charges, and the UN Ambassador will ask the International Court to just let their case die. I dunno, Frank. You could pick up quite a few million in court, or even in a settlement. Especially now. You're everybody's golden boy."

Frank shook his head, and then realized Fred couldn't see him. "I don't want their money, and I don't want to make them look bad, I just want out from under this, so I can get back to Brazil."

"Brazil? Hey, you know, you're going to need the full-time services of a high-powered lawyer down there. It just so happens I know one that can be available."

Frank grinned again. He liked Fred. "Don't tell me you managed to find a girl in Brasilia?"

"Brasilia?" Fred replied. "No, no, you're definitely going to need to set up a branch office in Rio, where I can keep a close eye on your welfare."

"Nice try, Fred," said Frank, "But no cigar. How can we stay in touch?"

Fred paused before replying. "Give me two days, and then call me back on this number."

Two days later, Frank called Fred. "Okay, Frank, here's the deal. The States' Attorney will publicly announce that their thorough investigation has revealed no violations of the technology transfer laws, and the charges are withdrawn, as are warrants for your arrest.

"As usual, the State Department is cagier. They will ask the International Criminal Court to dismiss the charges, but not publicly. The UN arrest warrant will also be quietly withdrawn. In exchange, you agree not to file any lawsuits for any alleged improprieties of any government agency or representative, and not to file any criminal charges, either. I still think we could have cleaned up in a lawsuit."

"I don't want to 'clean up' at the expense of my country, Fred. I just want them to leave me alone to fly spaceships."

"I don't think they will be bothering you again. In fact, if NASA never hears the name 'Frank Weatherly' again, I think they'll be very happy. It won't help them, though. Even without any lawsuits or charges by you, NASA will be dodging bullets for a long time to come. Your man Dolf really started a forest fire."

Frank was grinning widely. "So, how soon can I move back to Brazil?"

Fred chuckled. "How long will it take you to get a visa? The 'back off' signal went out this morning. By tomorrow, I don't think anyone will be looking for you. Um," he continued, "Hey, Frank. Should I start trying to find you a good International Law attorney? I mean, I handled that thing in Brazil, and Sandy did all right in Russia and Ukraine, but if you're going to be doing a lot of this, you might want to consider a specialist."

"I don't think so, Fred. This is kind of a one-shot. I don't think anyone else has any spare spaceships sitting around. No, I figure once this is over, I'll go back to being the eccentric recluse I've always been."

"Bullshit!" Susan cried into the phone from behind Frank. "Don't you believe a word of it. And you'd better be looking for an international law specialist. Frank Weatherly's back in the game. There's no way he's going to back out now!"

Fred laughed aloud. "It sounds like the law has been laid down," he said. "Good luck, Frank. I'll start looking for an international law guy right away."

Frank turned to Susan. "No way I'm going to back out now, eh? And what's this 'bullshit' business? I've never heard you use language like that before."

She sniffed. "Because you've never talked bullshit before. Frank, you're a businessman through and through. A wheeler-dealer. If you stop, you start getting old. You're going to be in the game for a long time yet. In fact, with your new reputation, you may be the first man to make a billion from space travel."

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "You just may be right. If this mission works, the crew will be bringing back an asteroid several kilometers in diameter, and mostly nickel-iron. If I can manage to set up a smelter in orbit, maybe using solar power, I'll be making metals to build spaceships. Man will be on his way to a moon colony within a decade, and I'll be selling them the ships."