“Well, why not go directly to the Federation?” Jo said.
“For the simple reason that deBloise’s affairs need looking into and to obtain the information we want we need secrecy. The Fed is a wonderful organization, but it’s too open and aboveboard in its maneuverings. A Fed investigation of deBloise would be pointless because he’d be ready when they came. But IBA has contacts as far flung as the Federation’s. I think we can move on our own to find out the connection between Haas and deBloise and then go to the Fed.”
Jo was silent a moment. “But it’s always been a policy of IBA to stay out of politics. It’s one of our bylaws, as a matter of fact.”
“I know,” Paxton replied, his face creasing into a smile. “I wrote it.”
“Then why the sudden change of heart?”
“Well, I could say it’s for the good of the company-and it is-but it goes deeper than that.” He hesitated. “You never really knew your grandfather, did you?”
Jo’s mouth twisted. “I hardly knew my own father. But when he was still around I remember you two talking a lot about Joe, Sr. He must have been quite a man.”
“Oh, he was!” Paxton enthusiastically agreed. “We both started out from Earth when the Federation was young and growing by leaps and bounds. The Earth government was very big, very bureaucratic then. Starting a new business was no easy matter on Earth in those days, that’s why Joe and I came to Ragna-that and, uh, other reasons. As I guess you know, your grandfather already had a successful book publishing company under his belt, though how he made it work I’ll never know. The sale of Finch House gave us enough capital to leave Earth and come to Ragna to start IBA. Yes, your grandfather was quite a man. Why …”
Jo tuned the old man out momentarily and considered the situation. Joe Finch, Sr. and Old Pete had been the shrewdest pair of businessmen in the galaxy in their day; their counsel had pulled countless businesses out of the red and had started just as many others on their way. But Joe was long dead and Old Pete had carried that moniker for as long as Jo could remember. Was the current structure of the Federation really in danger, thereby endangering IBA, or was Old Pete suffering from a touch of senile paranoia?
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” she said, interrupting Paxton’s reminiscent monologue. “I’ll have someone run a check on this Denver Haas character. If we can learn something about Haas, maybe we can get an idea of what deBloise has in mind and go from there.” Catching a nod of approval from Old Pete, she went on. “We have a suite of rooms upstairs for visiting clients, it’s empty now and you can use it for as long as you like. We’d be honored to have you as a guest.”
Jo pressed a button as she finished speaking and the receptionist came through the multi-hued door.
“Take Mr. Paxton to the guest suite,” she told her. “He’ll be with us for a while.”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything,” Old Pete remarked, rising.
“You’ll know as soon as I do,” Jo assured him.
When she was alone, Jo sat behind her desk and stared at the two-dimensional painting of Joe Finch, Sr. that hung from the wall.
“I hope your old partner is wrong, Gran’pa,” she muttered.
II
Old Pete appeared somewhat shaken when he entered Jo’s office a few days later.
“I just saw a man,” he said, “walking down the hall with what looked like a space rat on his shoulder.”
Jo smiled. “That’s just what it was. His name is Sam Orzechowski and it seems he’s tamed the space rat. I’m trying to help him work up some commercial uses.” She pointed to a chair. “Sit down. We’ve got some information on Haas and deBloise.”
Old Pete leaned forward. “What have you found?”
“I don’t know just yet,” Jo replied. “I put one of the best investigators in the sector on the job. He just called to say that he’s got some interesting information.”
“Why didn’t he tell you when he called?”
“Larry Easly rarely says anything of interest when there’s a possibility that the wrong ears might hear it.”
“Well, then, when does he arrive?” Pete asked.
Jo shook her head. “He doesn’t. He never comes to this building. IBA uses his services quite often and frequent visits would give away the relationship. We’re to meet him tonight at the Casino.”
“Why there?”
“Because it’s a perfect meeting place. I make it a practice to visit the Casino once a week and he stops in whenever he’s on Ragna; that way no one thinks it’s strange when we run into each other now and then-especially since we’re both avid pokochess players.”
“I hope you’ve included me in your plans tonight,” Old Pete said. “I haven’t had a really good game of pokochess in years.”
“Of course you’re included,” Jo told him. “I want you along to question him on his information since you seem to have made a private study of deBloise and his activities.”
“Just his public life. I know nothing of his private affairs.”
“That’s a start,” Jo said.
Later that night, as they flittered toward the Casino, Jo turned to Old Pete. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“It’s about my father. You were the last person on Ragna to see him and were closest to him except for my mother. What kind of a man was he?”
Old Pete studied her for a moment. “You’re a lot like your grandfather,” he said finally. “Junior-your father-was different. He was never a very happy person; he was a born achiever, but his major problem was that he was born at the top, the heir apparent to IBA. He tried his best to make it with the company while your grandfather was alive, but after Joe died he became increasingly restless.” Old Pete’s mind drifted back to the day of Junior Finch’s departure.
“But where are you going?” Paxton asked.
Joe Finch, Jr. shrugged. “I haven’t really decided yet. It’s only for a year, Pete, and I’m sure IBA won’t miss me. You’ve been running the show ever since Dad’s death anyway.” He put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. They were close-Junior had called him “Uncle Pete” as a kid-and Pete now and then tended to take on a fatherly attitude. “I’m a big boy now, Pete. I’m thirty-three, I have a wife who understands and a ten-year-old daughter who’ll miss me but who’ll somehow survive a year without me.”
“I know what’s eating you, Joe,” Pete said gravely. “But can’t you climb a mountain, or something?”
Junior laughed. “I’ve no desire to be a mountain goat. I just don’t feel a part of IBA, that’s all. It’s not my company. I had nothing to do with its growth, or founding … it was just handed to me.”
“But the company has a lot of growing to do,” Pete said. “You could be part of that. Its future will ultimately depend on you, you know.”
“IBA’s present momentum will carry it another ten or twenty years with little help from anyone. I’ve got no qualms about taking out a year to go somewhere.”
“And do what?”
“I dunno … something.” He stuck out his hand. “Good-bye, Pete. I’ll contact you when I get where I’m going.”
Peter Paxton watched him walk off in the direction of one of the shuttle ramps, a man in the shadow of his father, the only son of Joe Finch trying to prove to himself that he was worthy of the title.