"Actually I believe you underestimated my troops," Phule corrected, winking at the Legionnaires, who grinned back at him. "Them ... and Beeker, of course."
"Of course," Max said, sending a dark look toward the butler. "I certainly shan't forget his role in this. Well, I'll know better next time."
"Next time?" The Legionnaire commander frowned. "I really don't think there'll be a next time, Mrs. Pruet. I believe the charges against you will keep you out of circulation for quite a while."
"Nonsense, Captain," Maxine said, favoring him with a superior smirk. "Do you think it's accidental that I've never been arrested? Laverna! Please fetch me some paper and a pen."
"Do you really think you can just walk away from this?" Phule said, shaking his head in disbelief. "There's no one you can write to with enough authority to keep you from going to jail."
"And just what would that accomplish, Mr. Phule?" Max said, accepting the pen and paper from Laverna and beginning to write as she spoke. "The potential for crime on Lorelei is far too great to go unexploited. If I'm removed from my position of control, all that will happen is that another person or group will take my place-someone, perhaps, like that organization your man posed as a member of. Believe me, Captain, there are those who would be far less genteel than I in running things. As to there not being anyone who can prevent me from going to jail, you're wrong. There is one person, Mr. Phule. You!"
"Me?"
"Certainly. If you should choose not to press charges or bring my activities to the attention of the authorities or the media, I shall be free to continue my operation as normal."
"You expect me to turn a blind eye to what you've tried to do? Just because you're more civilized than most about running your syndicate?"
"No, Captain. I expect you to seriously consider a proposition of mutual advantage to both of us-a bribe, if you will. First, however, let me remind you that your stated objective was not to put me out of business, but rather to stop me from attempting to gain control of the Fat Chance. I'm prepared to offer that in exchange for my freedom."
"That's a surprisingly weak offer, coming from you, Mrs. Pruet," Phule said stiffly. "In exchange for my letting you go, you're proposing to give me a promise in writing that you won't try to gain control of the Fat Chance-something you haven't been able to do so far and would find doubly difficult to attempt from jail?"
"Don't be crass, Mr. Phule," Maxine said, signing the paper in front of her with a flourish and setting the pen aside. "What I have here is a document assigning Mr. Rafael's loan agreement with me over to you, or more specifically, your Space Legion company. That will negate my interest, not to mention my primary weapon, in taking over this facility. Allow me to walk away from this, and you can renegotiate more favorable payment terms for Mr. Rafael, accept the scheduled payment, or eliminate the debt completely."
She picked up the paper and extended it toward the commander.
"Well, Captain?" She smiled. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Journal #250
Maxine Pruet's capitulation effectively ended the challenging portion of this assignment. All that remained was the cleaning up of a few details, and, of course, normal guard duty.
Anyone who believes that a cease-fire, surrender, or treaty automatically means the end of hostilities, however, lacks even the shallowest awareness of military history ... or even a general history of mankind ...
The meeting in Phule's suite was originally intended as an informal debriefing with his officers. Colonel Battleax came calling, however, with a large bottle of excellent brandy, and the gathering soon took on a more relaxed, social atmosphere.
"One thing I'll grant you, Captain Jester," the colonel said as she raised her glass, the most recent of several, in a mock toast. "Things are certainly never dull around you."
"Hear, hear!" Lieutenant Rembrandt agreed, raising her own glass. She was finally starting to relax from her brief stint as acting company commander, and the combination of the brandy and relief was making her a little owlish.
"Of all the possible outcomes of this debacle," Battleax continued, shaking her head, "the one thing I never thought I'd see was Maxine Pruet presenting you with a unit commendation-on stellarwide network, no less-with the gratitude of the Lorelei Casino Owners Association for successfully preventing organized crime from taking over the Fat Chance Casino!"
She let out a sudden bark of laughter, nearly spilling her drink.
"I thought she handled it rather well ... all things considered," Phule said, grinning. "Actually, though, it was a logical move for her, if you stop to think about it. I mean, she is the president of the association, which isn't surprising considering that she owns the lion's share of all the casinos on the space stations except the Fat Chance. By making a big thing of organized crime being repelled from the Fat Chance, she implies that it's not anywhere else on Lorelei. Basically she got a lot of favorable free publicity out of a bad situation. She's a sharp old bird, I'll give her that. Oh well, at least Jennie got her exclusive story."
"True," the colonel said. "Of course, the way she glossed things over with half-truths and distortions, there might be a bigger future for her as a popular-fiction, writer. I had trouble sorting out exactly what happened, and I was there-for most of it, anyway."
"Just one thing puzzles me, Captain," Armstrong said from his seat on the sofa. "What was that bit she was saying about welcoming you to the Casino Owners Association?"
The company commander made a face, then took another sip of brandy before answering.
"I was going to sit on this for a while," he said, "but we might be stuck with part ownership of the Fat Chance for a while."
The lieutenant frowned. "How so? I thought our share was going back to Rafael once he paid off the loan."
"That's the problem," Phule said. "I had a meeting with Gunther earlier today, and it seems he might not be able to pay off the loan."
"Why not?" Battleax demanded. "I thought you and your hard cases pretty much eliminated the cheats that were going to bleed off the profits."
"We did," Phule said. "The trouble is, there wasn't that much profit to start with. Gunther's big plan was to draw customers by giving better odds that the other casinos on Lorelei. Unfortunately the odds he gave were so favorable to the guests that his profit margin was next to nothing. The reason I haven't said anything is that I'm still trying to makeup my mind as to where to go from here. Do we give him an extension of the loan, or do we go ahead and accumulate forty-nine percent of the ownership?"
"Something you might want to consider, Captain," the colonel said, staring into her glass as she twirled it between her hands. "Mr. Rafael may not want to buy back your shares. I can see certain advantages to him in keeping you as a silent partner, with a vested interest in the continued success of the Fat Chance."
"It's funny you should say that." The commander smiled wryly. "Beeker raised the same point. I may want to make a quick audit of Gunther's books at some point. At the very least, I want him to ease his payout odds down until they're more in line with the other casinos."
"By the way, where is Beeker?" Rembrandt said, peering around the room as if expecting to discover the butler hiding behind the furniture. "I'd like to buy him a drink sometime now that things have eased up a little."
"He has the night off," Phule said. "In fact, I believe he has a date."
"You mean with the Ice Bitch again?" Rembrandt scowled. "I don't know why you don't try harder to discourage that, Captain. That woman gives me the creepy-crawlies."