Honesty-in-Trust opened it and the Chairman, Blaggis Hringe, a Capellan I didn’t know but who looked like a lawyer and two beings that were obviously muscle walked in.
“What are these beings doing here?” the Chairman demanded.
I sighed. “Witnesses. What are these…” I indicated the muscle, “…doing here?”
“Protection. I demand you send these beings away. Their presence is not required.”
I could see the looks of astonishment on the project manager’s and Madam Great-Piousness’s faces.
“And I demand you send your goons and lackeys away. Their presence is not required.”
“Why must you persist in being unreasonable? Do you have no concept of civilised behaviour on your pathetic, primitive planet?”
I mastered my temper with difficulty. “You call an attempt to murder me civilised behaviour? You regard harassment, bullying, lying and cheating civilised behaviour? If so, Sir Chairman, I’ll take my version of civilised any day. But of course, this is just more of your time-wasting tactics to try and prevent me from signing the contract. You do have it, don’t you?”
He sighed and snapped his fingers.
“A moment,” I said and turned to my witnesses. “Sir and Madam witness, would you start recording, please?”
“What? More of your nonsense?” the Chairman blustered. “What is this about recording? Entirely unnecessary.”
“I believe it is utterly necessary. Now, Sir, the contract if you please.”
The lawyer produced the paper and Honesty-in-Trust snatched it out his hands immediately. I sat.
“This may take some time,” I said. “You may as well be seated. Would the witnesses please affirm that the Lottery Commission have delivered a new contract?”
They did, looking both astonished and apprehensive. The Chairman and the lawyer sat, Sir Hringe hovered and the goons flanked the door. We waited in silence. Honesty-in-Trust was muttering to himself as he feverishly read the new contract, comparing it with the old one. He looked flushed and sweaty and it occurred to me I had put him under severe pressure. The success of the Lottery, our futures, even my very life were in his hands. If he misread the contract or missed a vital sub-clause somewhere, all our efforts would be in vain.
Time passed. The Chairman fidgeted. The lawyer examined his fingernails. Sir Hringe swayed as if he might faint at any moment. The goons remained impassive. The project manager and Madam Great-Piousness looked grimly determined as they held up their communicators. Honesty-in-Trust sweated. I tried to keep my mind blank.
Fifty minutes passed. Honesty-in-Trust heaved a deep sigh, thrust back his chair and looked at me solemnly.
“I have read the revised contract in detail and I have compared it, line by line, with the previous version. It is my professional opinion that the revised contract meets the verbal agreement made between my client, Sir Crawford MacAdam, and the Chairman of the Lottery Commission at the Bartimarm Piety Hotel in every detail. I hereby advise my client to sign the revised contract.”
It took a moment for his words to register. We had won. The Commission had conceded defeat. I felt the beginnings of a huge smile about to burst across my face and suppressed it viciously. I may have won this round but something told me that the game wasn't over. I stood slowly and walked over to where Honesty-in-Trust had swivelled the contract towards me. He handed me a writing implement.
“Witnesses, please,” I said beckoning them forward.
The goons by the door became alert.
Honesty-in-Trust pointed to where I should sign and, with hands that trembled so much I could hardly write, I signed my name. I stepped back and the Chairman rose heavily to his feet. He looked a defeated man. He signed with a bold flourish, stabbing the tip of the writing implement onto the paper as if in disgust.
“Would one of you care to witness?” he asked my witnesses.
Madam Great-Piousness did as did the Commission’s lawyer. The Chairman looked at me for a moment.
“You’ve ruined me,” he said in a sad, heavy voice. “I hope you’re happy.”
I made a disgusted noise. “Don’t blame me for your problems. If you were in control of your Commissioners, you wouldn’t be here now. You’ve ruined yourself. And, no, I’m not happy.”
His mouth tightened grimly. I shook my head mentally. He still didn’t accept that he was responsible for the whole fiasco. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, thought better of it, and closed it. Without another word, he turned and left, followed by his entourage. The rest of us let out a collective sigh.
“I think I’ve just seen history made,” Madam Great-Piousness said quietly.
“Quite probably,” Honesty-in-Trust said.
“The thing that gets me,” I said, “is that he still won’t accept it’s his own fault.”
“How so?” the project manager said.
“Recorders off? This isn’t for public consumption because I haven’t any direct evidence, but it seems as if the Commission is rife with corruption. Everything that happens to the Lottery Winner; where he goes, what he eats, what he wears, is bought and paid for. I’m a bolshie sort of bloke and I refused to go along with it. That’s how I found out about it. The Chairman isn’t part of it but the vested interests have his ear and, I think, have been putting severe pressure on him to get me to conform. That’s what this is all about.”
“But what about the attempt on your life?” Madam Great-Piousness said.
“I believe that was accidental, in a way. I mean, I had stipulated the Capellan tour was off the agenda but the vested interests would have lost a lot of money so my wishes were over-ruled. I suspect they either didn’t know or, more likely, didn’t care, that it would kill me. In all honesty I’d’ve been prepared to let it all go if they’d promised to remove it but they dug their heels in and so I dug mine in and…” I shrugged, “…here we are.”
“Will it mean the end of the Lottery?”
“Not hardly,” Honesty-in-Trust snorted. “The best we can hope for is that there’s a shake-up at the top and it goes back to being what it should be but I suspect that’s wishful thinking on my part.”
The project manager grinned. “I should be upset at you for interrupting my evening but I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. What a tale for the grand-children.”
“Please don’t say anything,” I said in alarm. “All this is only informed speculation. I’ve no proof. There’s going to be enough trouble as it is without adding to it.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. I don’t work for the Commission so it’s no skin off my nose what happens to them.”
“Me neither,” Madam Great-Piousness added.
“Thanks. And thank you for your time. I really believe it helped.”
“As I say, it’s been an experience,” the project manager said.
The dressing room communicator rang. Honesty-in-Trust answered it.
“It’s for you,” he said to me.
It was our friendly director enquiring diffidently if the show was on. I assured him it was… with a vengeance. To say he was relieved would be an understatement. He had barely rung off when there was a knock on the door and my dresser entered. Tonight she’d died her hair purple and was wearing an iridescent emerald green top and powder blue trousers. She looked a bit peeved to see the room filled with beings.
“We’d better be going then,” the project manager said.
I stuck out my hand. He looked at it with surprised.
“Earth custom,” Madam Great-Piousness said with a grin and grabbed my hand. “And one I approve of. It’s been an honour to have met you, Sir MacAdam.”
“The honour is mine Madam Great-Piousness.”
The project manager also shook my hand and pronounced the same sentiments.
“I’ll go with you,” Honesty-in-Trust said.
“You’ll be back for the show?” I said.
“Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.”
“Back
or front?”
“The chance to be back stage during the Greatest Show in the Galaxy? Is there a choice?”
I laughed.
“What was that all about?” the dresser asked.
“Just some last-minute arrangements.”
“Are you ready?”
“Other than a shower and change of clothes, yes.”
“You’ve not showered? Better be quick. I need to do your make-up and you’ve only got half an hour.”
“I’m going. I’m going.”
I didn’t see much of anything during the show. I waited in a small, comfortable room listening to the muffled sounds of the show. It was going well if the volume of the audience applause was anything to go by. Honesty-in-Trust stuck his head round the door. He was grinning broadly.
“I’m going to mingle,” he said.
“Enjoy yourself.”
“I am. I am.”
Oddly, I didn’t feel tense. After the events of the day the show seemed to be an anticlimax. The Chairman came in and did a double take at my suit but made no comment. He fixed himself a drink, a strong one by the look of it, and sat, staring morosely at the wall. In due course we were summoned to the wings. The officious young lady with the clipboard was there again.
“Going well?” I asked her.
“What? Yes, very well. He’s a brilliant director.”
“What’s his name?”
“Frefris Shifreff Tschiffretsch.”
“Thanks.”
The Chairman was psyching himself up for his entrance. I decided I’d better do the same.
Our double act went as we’d rehearsed. I’d been aware of the audience all through and more so in the wings but the reality of stepping out in front of a hundred and twenty thousand beings was something else. Their sheer physical presence was like a wall as I stepped out onto the stage and the noise of the ‘hub, hub, hub’ of their cheering and the stamping of feet was almost painful to hear. I froze. My feet seemed glued to the floor and I couldn’t move. Then a little voice inside me said, ‘You’ve won. The real battle has been fought and won. They’re cheering for you. You’re a winner.’
That was enough. I raised my hands above my head and waved them around. I grinned insanely and strode forward to greet the Chairman. I did my little speech, naming Sir Frefris Shifreff Tschiffretsch directly. My little joke about my parents brought the house down but, by this time, they’d have laughed at anything, and the mention of their home city was greeted with thunderous applause. We left to a standing ovation.
The Chairman nodded at me sourly and disappeared. I was surrounded by beings thumping me on the back, patting me on the shoulder and offering congratulations. I realised I was still holding the silly keys. I smiled although my face ached. I nodded and said thank you again and again. Sir Frefris Shifreff Tschiffretsch, our friendly director, came bounding up and pulled me into a hug. He was almost in tears.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said emotionally.
“Think nothing of it,” I said, wondering if his thanks were for turning up, not blowing my speech or mentioning his name.
“We’re having a small party afterwards if you’d like to come.”
I wouldn’t but I didn’t want to offend him. “You honour me but, in all honesty, I’m dead on my feet. The only reason I’m standing is a stiff dose of Proskatya’s Uplifting Elixir.”
“I quite understand. I feel the same but it takes me hours to unwind after a show.”
“I can sympathise. Congratulations on a brilliant show, by the way.”
“But you didn’t see it.”
“No, but I heard the audience and my reception was something else. I’ll have to thank the warm-up acts.”
“Warm-up acts?” His mouth was flapping until he saw my grin. “Warm-up acts. Quite. I’ll be sure to tell them that. You sure you won’t come?”
“I’m tempted, I admit, but my sensible head says it would be a bad idea. Thank you, anyway.”
“No. Thank you, Sir MacAdam.”
“Another recruit to the MacAdam fan club?” Honesty-in-Trust’s voice came from behind my shoulder.
“Jealous?”
“Not hardly.”
“Been enjoying yourself, then?”
His grin said it all. “Been invited to a little party.”
“So was I. I turned it down.”
“I didn’t. I’ve heard about these parties.”
“You old rogue.”
“Less of the old.”
“Go on, then. Have a good time.”
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Late.”
“Is there any other time? Oh…” he handed me an envelope. “…a copy of your contract. I’ll explain it all tomorrow.”
He hurried away. I went looking for someone to arrange some transport for me. A very deferential young man escorted me to where a limousine waited.
“We will be in touch tomorrow to discuss arrangements,” he said.
“Not tomorrow,” I said firmly. “The day after. I’ll be very upset if I’m disturbed tomorrow.”
“The day after, then.”
I was almost asleep by the time the limousine dived into the hotel car park. As I crossed the reception area, the receptionist hailed me.
“Congratulations, Sir MacAdam,” she said. “I know it’s late but I was wondering… could you give me your autograph.”
My first instinct was to say no but better sense prevailed.
“Certainly. What’s your name?”
“Eye-of-God Worshipful-Adoration.”
I wished I hadn’t asked.
“It will have to be in English as I can’t write your language,” I said as I scrawled a message to her and signed my name on the hotel brochure she handed me.
“Thank you, Sir,” she breathed, blushing prettily.
On impulse I leant across the desk and bussed her cheek. Her blush deepened.
“Thank you. You’re the first person to ask for my autograph.”
To my surprise Flerrionna was waiting in my suite.
“I had a feeling you might come back early. I assume everything went all right?”
I pulled out the envelope and grinned. “Eventually, though it was a last-minute thing. Do mind if we leave explanations till the morning. I can’t think straight I’m so tired.”
“You poor thing. Of course.” She hesitated. “Er, do you want me to leave?”
“Only if you want to. I’m afraid I’m not up to anything but sleeping just now but feeling you cuddled beside me would be wonderful.” Something struck me. “Oh, the cats. I’ve been neglecting them. Where are they?”
“Don’t worry. They’re fine. I’ve been looking after them. They’re in another room.”
“Do you mind if I pop in and see them?”
The cats were in a smaller room at the end of a corridor. They woke up when we entered and trotted over, tails high and complaining loudly.
“Yes, I know,” I said stooping to stroke them. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you soon.” Ziggy meowed, arching his back and curling his tail around my ankle. “You monster. You always know when I’ve got a dark suit on. I think you do it deliberately.” He meowed again. “I know you do.”
I spent several minutes petting them. I was tempted to take them back to my suite but knew they’d wake me at the usual time in the morning. The concept of a lie-in is alien to a cat except, of course, when it’s the cat that’s doing the sleeping. I left them reluctantly.
I retained enough consciousness to be aware of spooning up to Flerrionna before sleep took me. I didn’t even stir when she slipped out of bed the next morning.
Chapter 8
I had no idea what time it was when I awoke but it felt late. My watch said 6.15 but it was still keeping British Summer Time so it wasn't much use. I felt rested, relaxed and refreshed. I sighed contentedly and settled back on the pillows. Yesterday had been stressful. Yesterday… I sat bolt up
right. Yesterday I had faced down the Lottery Commission and won. Yesterday I’d become the proud owner of a fully equipped Mark 3 Zofi-Brennan ‘Interspacialle’ worth $4.5 billion. Yesterday I had acquired enough money to keep me in luxury for the rest of my life. Yesterday… I scrambled out of bed and pawed frantically through my clothes. I pulled the contract out of its envelope and scanned it. I couldn’t read it, of course. But there was my signature at the bottom in black and white right next to the Chairman’s. I danced round the room waving the contract in the air and chanting, “I did it. I did it. I did it,” until I was dizzy and breathless.
Sobriety returned as I collapsed in a chair. I might have won a spaceship but I’d done a lot of other things as well, not the least of which was to make a number of powerful enemies. I wouldn’t feel really safe until I was far away from this hell-hole called Geretimal and God, or even the gods, knew when that would be. For a start there was the breeding programme. I was on my feet and pacing up and down again. In the excitement, I’d completely forgotten about the breeding programme. What was it? What did it entail? How many were there again? Twenty-three? Hell, even at one a night, it would be a month before I could leave.
Then there was the rest of it. I knew nothing about spaceships. Did they need to be registered and space taxed and MOTed and that sort of thing? There must be some sort of bureaucracy somewhere. You couldn’t just get in and drive off, could you? And what about the money? I knew nothing of Capellan finances. They must have banks or their equivalent but how did you get money in and out? I’d been joking when I’d suggesting putting Honesty-in-Trust on a permanent retainer. I was beginning to think it might actually be necessary. Suddenly I felt very alone and very afraid. I was completely out of my depth, the sole Earthman in the Galaxy. I was completely dependent on Hermes, Flerrionna and Honesty-in-Trust. Without them I might as well go camping in the Geretimal highlands. Either way I’d be dead.
I slumped in my chair with my head in my hands and let despair wash over me. Could I trust them? Could I afford not to trust them? I considered them in turn. Each had put him or herself out on a limb for me. Each had risked much for me. Each had committed themselves to my cause. Of course I could trust them. Suddenly I felt very foolish. It wasn’t me against the universe, it was me and Hermes and Flerrionna and Honesty-in-Trust against the universe. I’d take odds on us any day.
I Won A Spaceship Page 17