In contrast to the luxurious surroundings, Brodie looked like a cheap hood. Tetsami saw Brodie’s lean, hungry face and had no trouble picturing him doing the soft-core hustle on the fringes of East Godwin. Brodie looked like a dealer in flesh, drugs, or money who’d made good.
But then, what was insurance but a high-class protection racket?
Brodie waved them to a pair of plush chairs that were placed an uncomfortable distance from the desk. They sat and Brodie leaned forward and addressed Dom.
“Account number?”
Dom rattled off a twenty-digit number in response.
“Voiceprint checks,” Brodie said as his gaze lit on some display out of Tetsami’s field of vision. Tetsami realized that Brodie only knew Dom as a twenty-digit account number.
Brodie sounded like a hood. He had an East Godwin accent that he didn’t try to hide. “I have reviewed your file and your claim.”
A small holo display lit up above the desk. The image looked to be from a spy sat aimed at the Diderot foothills. The buildings in the image must have been the GA&A complex. Brodie leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “We’ve confirmed that Godwin Arms and Armaments was attacked and seized by hostile forces, as you’ve claimed. Our attempts to contact the new management of GA&A have proved unsuccessful.”
As Brodie spoke, Tetsami saw a craft float into the holo’s point of view. Explosions peppered the perimeter of the buildings. Brodie did something that froze the image.
“We have confirmation that GA&A was attacked by a Paralian-built Confederacy troopship. The Blood-Tide.” Brodie indicated the ship floating just outside the ring of explosions on the holo. Tetsami looked over at Dom. You said nothing about the Confederacy.
Why the hell would the Confederacy take over GA&A?
A smile crossed Brodie’s lips. “This, of course, means we cannot pay out your claim.”
“WHAT?”
Tetsami tensed and her hand drifted toward her laser. Dom was half out of the chair. Brodie was leaning back and Tetsami could sense an edge of violence in the air. She started cataloging escape routes in her mind.
Brodie either didn’t sense the impending violence, or he didn’t care. “Sit down.” Brodie hit a hidden keypad and one of the Kanakan-wood walls began to display glowing blue text. “I’ve worked in claims for nearly a decade. I have rarely come across a clearer case. You just aren’t covered for a military takeover. Rival corporations, yes. Other Bakunin organizations, yes. Confed military, no.”
Dom sat down slowly. “It’s semantics. What difference is there between a corporate takeover and the Confederacy ... ?”
“The one’s covered. The other isn’t.” Brodie looked like he enjoyed what he was doing. “You’re a businessman. You know semantics is the name of the game. This is a contract, and we’re not in this for our health.”
“I could call LCI for an enforcement.”
Brodie laughed. “You knew, when you had Lucifer Contracts witness the agreement, that they only pay attention to the letter of the contract. As I said, I’ve rarely had a clearer case of an unsupported claim.”
Tetsami saw the corner of Dom’s mouth jerk upward. He brought a hand up to his face, as if to hide it. “I see.”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more helpful.” Brodie couldn’t have been less sorry.
Dom nodded. “If that is the case, I would like to cash in the equity of the policy.”
Brodie’s smile froze. “You must be kidding.”
Dom was speaking in a cold voice that would have suited a machine. It chilled Tetsami. “Read your own contract. I can cash in the policy, as long as my premiums are up to date, at any time while the policy is in force—”
The idea that he might actually have to pay something out seemed to shrink Brodie in his chair. ‘This is highly irregular.”
“The whole situation is irregular. But you did say Lucifer enforces the letter of the contract. Shall we consult LCI?”
Brodie raised his hands and shook his head. “No need to involve them. You do understand that premature withdrawal incurs a stiff penalty—”
Dom kept the cold edge in his voice. “I understand perfectly.”
Brodie started typing on his hidden keypad, and the glowing blue text on the wall started changing. Brodie nodded to himself a few times.
“Cashing the policy now would realize 587.92 kilograms, after the penalty.”
Tetsami’s jaw dropped. Half a meg, and Dom looked disappointed. How much would it have been if the policy paid out?
Brodie looked at Dom. “How do you want that?”
“Whatever form that will facilitate an immediate transfer.”
Brodie humphed and started typing. It took him nearly ten minutes.
“Okay, we have one hundred seventy-five K in currency from the Insured Bank of the Adam Smith Collective. Fifty K in bonds issued by the Proudhon Spaceport Development Corporation. Sixty K in off-world credit in the Confederacy Central Bank. Two hundred eleven K in script from the Girolamo Commune. Fifteen K in bonds from Griffith Energy. Twenty-seven K in our own currency. And Fifty K in miscellaneous local currencies that shouldn’t vary more than three percent from the base exchange.”
Dom nodded. “That’s acceptable, excepting the off-world credit.”
“It’s a numbered account.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anything from off-planet except hard currency.”
Brodie shook his head and went back to his typing. Tetsami was still reeling from the numbers Brodie was tossing around. One hundred seventy-five K in the IBASC? Two hundred eleven K from Girolamo? Not only were the numbers huge, but scrip from those places was overvalued by thirty percent on the street because of its stability, and scarcity. It was hard to believe that over two hundred kilos of Girolamo currency was in circulation.
Brodie sighed. “We’re scraping the outside of the liquid assets. We have a speculation portfolio of off-world hard currency that’s currently valued at forty-five K. We can only guarantee that value within five percent over the next three days—”
“I can deal with that.”
“Finally, we have fifteen K worth of stock in Bleek Munitions. Will that be acceptable?” Dom nodded. “Good, then let’s start transferring accounts.”
* * * *
They left Brodie’s office with a hand comm that recorded assets that totaled nearly six hundred K. They were in the maglev elevator off the waiting room before Tetsami spoke.
“Can I have my money?”
She noticed Dom twitch the corner of his mouth. “When I said that, I thought I was going to receive the full value of the policy—”
Tetsami grunted. She hadn’t expected much more.
Dom shook his head. “It’s not that. You’ll be paid. I have an obligation to all my employees. I’m going to do right by them.”
Tetsami looked at the exec. No sign of sarcasm. He was serious. “How many people are you talking about?”
“I just have to—”
“Fifteen hundred?”
“Something like that.”
“How in the hell do you think you’re going to—Hell, what is it that you think you’re going to do?”
Dom sighed. “I’m not sure right now. I was hoping for an adequate flow of capital to start operations somewhere else. But cashing the policy only resulted in enough to— maybe—invest in a small inventory of personal hardware.”