The governor's hopes solidified into reality. He had heard enough pitches for favoritism that he easily recognized the roundabout approach. It was strange, but people rarely came right out with their requests... or offers. You simply had to wait them out while they worked themselves up to their final approach. The only question left in his mind at this point was how large a contribution Phule was prepared to offer. That, and how long it was going to take him to get to the bottom line.
"That's what politics is all about," he said cagily.
The commander was looking pointedly around the room, his eyes dwelling on the leather-bound books and original artwork that festooned the walls.
"This certainly is a nice place you have here, Governor."
"Thank you. We..."
"Though probably not as nice as that town house over by Altair where your wife is living."
Despite his resolve to be patient, the governor felt a stab of annoyance at the mention of his personal holding... and of his wife.
"Yes, yes. Now then, just how large a campaign contribution are we talking about here?"
"Contribution?" Phule frowned. "I think there's some mistake here, Governor. I wasn't talking about making a contribution to your... campaign. Not when you're already living beyond your means."
Wingas purpled. "Who says I'm living beyond my means?" he demanded.
"Not 'who,' Governor," the commander said. "More like 'what'-specifically your current loan application. Frankly, if you don't get it, I'd be surprised if you stayed out of bankruptcy for the rest of the year."
"That's just a consolidation loan, so I can... Hey! Wait a minute! That information is supposed to be confidential! What right have you got to go poking around my personal finances?"
"Oh, the information is confidential, all right," Phule assured him. "I just happen to be on the board of the bank that's reviewing your application, and in that capacity I'm supposed to use my best judgment in appraising the risk involved in major loans, which I'm afraid your loan qualifies as."
The governor slumped back in his chair as if he had been struck.
"Are you trying to tell me that unless I give the Legion the honor guard contract, you'll veto my loan approval?"
"Let's just say it would be difficult not to factor it into my assessment of your judgment and reliability." The commander smiled.
"I see."
"However, I'd like to clarify something you just said. I'm not asking you to hand the Legion the contract on a platter. Just give them an equal chance with the Regular Army to earn the assignment. "
Wingas cocked his head to one side, looking at Phule through narrowed eyes.
"If you don't mind my asking, Captain, why not just push for the assignment flat out? I'm not in much of a position to argue with you."
"That's a fair question, Governor," the commander said. "You see, I'm trying to build my company's confidence in itself. If they can earn that contract in a fair competition with the Regular Army, or even make a decent showing for themselves, their confidence should increase. Buying the contract, or pressuring you into giving it to them, would tend to have the opposite effect. It would give every indication that I believed the only way they could get the job is if I bought it for them. The truth is, I have every confidence in my troops that in an open, fair competition, they can perform as well or better than anything the Regular Army can offer."
"Interesting," the governor murmured thoughtfully. He stared out the window, then shook his head.
"Nope. I can't do it. Since you've got a gun to my head, Captain, I might as well be honest with you. Normally I'd take your money, then get back to you with a message that I had been outmaneuvered. The way things are, though, you'd probably take it as a double cross and shit all over my loan application. The actual situation is that I can't help your boys, even enough to give them a chance. I've already signed the contract with the Regular Army for the job, and I can't get out of it if I wanted to."
"Oh, I expected that, Governor," Phule said easily. "I believe there is one loophole that you could wiggle out of... if you were so inclined, that is."
"What's that?"
"Why, the settlement ordinance that forbids the unilateral contracting of services without the review of competitive bids, of course."
"I'm sorry, I don't recall any such-"
"As a matter of fact, I happen to have a copy of the ordinance right here, sir."
The commander produced a sheet of paper from his pocket and set it on the desk in front of the governor.
"You'll notice that it's signed by the members on the Settlement Council and that it's dated a week before your contract with the Regular Army... sir."
Wingas made no move to pick up the document. Instead, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Phule.
"Captain... why do I find myself thinking that if I were to call for the original of this document, I'd find that some of the signatures on it would still be wet?"
"I believe I did mention that I had to make a couple extra stops before I called on you this evening," the commander pointed out levelly.
The governor threw up his hands in theatric surrender.
"All right! I give up! When the Army gets here, we'll set up a competition where you and your thugs will have a chance at the contract! Is that all, or do you want my dog, too? I don't have a daughter."
"That will be all, Governor Wingas," Phule said, rising and reclaiming the paper from the governor's desk. "Needless to say, I'm glad we had this little talk. I was sure we'd be able to work things out."
"Captain Jester!"
The governor's voice stopped him with his hand on the doorknob.
"Sir?"
"Have you ever considered running for public office?"
"Me, sir? No."
"Good. "
CHAPTER TWELVE
Journal #121
In reviewing my entries thus far, I notice they give the impression that my employer was always on top of things and anticipated every contingency. Such was not the case. He was certainly exceptional when it came to adapting quickly to situations or covering when surprised, but surprised he was... more often than he would ever care to admit.
I can state this unequivocally, as it was my privilege to be present on more than one occasion when he was clearly (to my eye) caught flat-footed.
The company's new facility, or The Club, as the Legionnaires took to calling it, was certainly no comedown from the comfort they had enjoyed during their stay at the Plaza. In addition to the already referenced confidence course and firing range, it had its own swimming pool and sauna, a moderate-sized gymnasium, and enough rooms to accommodate a small convention. As it evolved, however, the main gathering point for the Legionnaires was the combination dining hall, meeting room, and cocktail lounge. With its comfortable sofas and fireplaces amid the widely scattered tables, it proved to be ideal for socializing during off-duty hours, which in turn made it the pivotal point for dispensing or collecting information or gossip that wasn't available through normal channels.
Phule paused for a moment before seating himself for breakfast, surveying again the bustle of activity in the dining hall. To his eye, it was apparent that there was something afoot this morning. The Legionnaires were huddled together in groups at various tables around the room, their heads close together as they murmured back and forth while poring over something. Occasional snickers erupted, and more than a few speculative glances were directed his way... and there was obvious nudging with elbows as his presence was noted.