Paper or Plastic

by Mackey Chandler

  "We use them practically, but I have never seen them polished fancy for decoration, with all the tiny shiny flats like you people do and wear them," Martee explained. Josh didn't give any sign he heard her at all.

  "You know," Roger suddenly spoke with enthusiasm. "We'll be selling these to the sort of people who cut them. They call those little flats facets, Martee. We'll have to pick a few of them to have cut and keep a few for you to wear. In fact having a few already cut to wear, might make presenting the rough for sale a little easier. I bet it's easier to hire them to cut one for you, than to sell the rough."

  "You guys should have a couple too," Martee insisted. "I've seen men wearing them and they're so pretty."

  Chapter 14

  Roger had some heavy lock-top plastic bags in his jacket. He dumped the big sack Martee had already opened on the floor and started sorting out some of the stones. He gathered a lot of the small stones in a bag, because he suspected they would be the easiest to sell. Most of them would cut one- to two-carat gems, of the type fairly common on nice engagement rings.

  He'd been researching diamonds on the 'net, ever since she told him about hers. He'd read that the rule of thumb was you could figure on a 50% yield. He'd known a little bit about diamonds, just from being a voracious reader. At the least now, he could speak with an expert without sounding like a total idiot.

  There were a lot of them, twice as big he put in the second bag. After he had a few kilos of each of these sizes, he picked out another bagful that were all larger. He weighed one in his palm against a pile of the smaller stones on his other palm. It took ten or fifteen to feel the same. How much was a ten or twenty carat stone worth nowadays? He had no idea, but it must be substantial. Certainly nobody he knew could afford that sort of jewelry.

  Last of all there were about a dozen really large stones. They all seemed to have been together in the bottom of the bag. He picked a slightly elongated one, a visibly bright yellow one, that would make Martee a stunning necklace. It was about the size of half a jumbo candy bar, or about the size of a C-cell flashlight battery.

  There was an octahedron crystal with the tip busted off one side that caught his eye and rather than say anything he reached over and got Josh's cane and held the stone up beside the brass ball he had on the end for a grip. It should replace it nicely when cut down. Josh agreed with a nod.

  He picked one dodecahedral for himself, that was far from the biggest, but had an intense violet color even uncut. Then from the remaining large stones, he picked one that was noticeably green and two that seemed quite clear. Those three they would also try to sell and he suspected it might be difficult. One of the clear ones was almost a perfect crystal but so big it could not be hidden in your fist.

  When he was done, he scooped the stones by handfuls back in the bag. He had taken less than fifth of the big sack they had opened and there were five more untouched. He thought about having Josh carry one of his small bags, but considered his legs and put them all in his pack.

  "I feel so silly," Josh admitted, still sitting looking at the original stone Roger had handed him. "I had no idea what sort of resources you might have." He seemed to finally snap out of it a little and offered the golf ball sized stone back to Rog. Roger had closed the bag back up, so he just waved him off. Josh shook his head unbelievingly and when Martee didn't object said, "Thanks – keepsake then," tucked it in a shirt pocket and zipped it closed.

  "Where do you have in mind to sell the diamonds? You don't have any connections with anyone in the business, do you?" Josh asked.

  "I looked up what I could online. The biggest dealers in cut diamonds are in Holland and, in Israel. We can't go there very easily with Martee not having ID. So that pretty much leaves New York. I figure you should be able to buy anything in New York if you have enough money – even false ID. The only idea I have to get our foot in the door, is to take some stones in and ask to have them cut and perhaps offer payment in kind – rough for the cutting service. If that doesn't make somebody ask about buying more of them for cash, I'll be very disappointed."

  "I might be able to help with both problems at the same time. Not promising you understand, but maybe."

  "Tell us more."

  "When we're out of the cold, it's too long to tell, sitting freezing our buns off," Josh said. "When we got back to your place OK?

  "OK, I can wait, you know what though? I'm just a little scared about leaving all of these diamonds here until we come back for the ship," Roger explained. "If something should happen that… What did you call them? BTA?"

  "Close enough," Josh confirmed.

  "If they should find it, we could still get a lot of advantage from just having some of the stones. But I have as much as I want to carry out of here today and I sure don't want to have to reload them all back on the ship when we come back. What I'm thinking is – how about if we just bury two bags out there as a backup and leave the others on board?"

  That sounded good to both of them. They finally dug one hole right outside the door they had entered and rolled a full bag off the edge into it. They lucked out, it was still early enough in the Fall that the ground wasn't frozen. The ship had a little kit in a cabinet with a small shovel, a saw and small hand tools that were the equal of screw drivers and wrenches. There were spares of some things like air filters and Josh was surprised to see they used fuses still.

  "What's this?" Roger asked, taking a tool out of clamps that looked like a big flare gun. The fat barrel screwed off and there were three extras.

  "That's a seal gun," Martee explained. "If you get an air leak in space you point it at the hole or crack and pull the trigger. It blows a big wad of sealant out that hardens when it hits vacuum. There is one clipped under the instruments up front too. This is a spare really. If I use one, they charge me for the cleanup and repair when I turn the rental in too."

  Rog pushed it back in the clamps and thought about that. He had not considered the fact he had not seen any space suits at all. Now he realized they would take up way too much space in the tiny ship, if they hauled them around. These people must know what they are doing, but they still felt they needed the seal gun… the idea made him uncomfortable.

  They restored the surface outside the door as well as they could, but then being right where you stepped out, somebody finding the ship would expect that spot to be trampled down. The partially emptied bag they poured half into the bucket and Rog and Josh carried the halves out into the pines and dug. The pine needles were so deep they stopped digging when they got down to dirt. They dumped the bucket load back in the sack and rolled it in the hole. Rog took another GPS reading on that spot too, then they raked the pine needles back carefully

  They got back to the ship tired now. Roger thought they were through, but Martee indicated she had a couple more items to show. Back inside, she folded open the box they had sat on. It looked very much like an old steamer trunk, or footlocker with a top that closed from each side. Inside were a couple dozen shapes like metallic loaves of French bread. They had lengths of rope lain beneath them, so you could get a purchase to lift them without pinching your fingers. Martee removed a bladder first however, that filled the box up.

  "Why the air bag?" Rog wondered.

  "So they don't float around when I made those jump stops I told you about," Martee explained. Seeing the uncomprehending look on his face she went on. "There's no gravity when we stop and wait for the drive to cool off. I know we have a few things you don't, but artificial gravity is still beyond us."

  Rog and Josh just traded silly grins. Neither had pictured they would be floating around like an astronaut. They liked the idea though.

  "These are platinum ingots," Martee informed them. "Once you start asteroid mining, which won't be all that long if we have our way, it will be cheap for you too, but I understand it's pretty expensive right now. Let's take advantage of that," she suggested.

  Josh was beyond being shocked after the diamonds. "I'm not gonna bust my butt
, humping those babies out," was all he wanted to say. Rog agreed, but he also knew they were going to be the easiest thing to sell.

  The last show and tell wasn't anything they could have anticipated.

  "This," Martee informed them picking up a container that might have been a cooler for a six pack, "has seeds of some plants you don't have on this planet," she informed them. "One of our botanists wrote up a plan to introduce these when they were still looking into trading and having normal relations with Earth. Now that they want to isolate you, there is no way they will ever issue any company a permit to offer them commercially. I don't plan on asking permission."

  "One is a fruit we call a small berry, which except for the red color, looks like a blueberry, but it has a taste that is very much its own. Another is a plant from which you can get an oil, which keeps mosquitoes away better than anything you have. It has a pleasant sweet smell and is safe for mammals. The last is a plant that concentrates heavy metals in a little pea. You can use it to clean up polluted soil, or it can concentrate metals from mine tailings, or low grade ore. Do you think you can find ways to sell these and still keep some control over them so we get paid?" she asked.

  "Martee, remember our talk about intellectual property and patents?"

  "Sure, I don't think I understand it all yet, but I remember."

  "Well, plants can be patented in most countries," Roger told her.

  "Any one of these things could make us all richer than I have ever imagined," Josh admitted. "I don't know what else we'll have trouble with, trying to make them stop isolating Earth, but the fundraising I think we have whipped."

  "But I've suddenly realized, we're not going back in the next week or two are we?" Martee asked.

  "No, it will take us some months to be able to convert these items into cash assets and put the rest in situations where they will continue making us money while we are away, Rog admitted. "I'm sorry if that's a big disappointment Martee."

  "No, that's OK. I didn't have any of this planned out when I left Trishal. I didn't know fully what I'd find here, or if I'd ever be back. No point in getting in a rush now and messing it up – let's take our time and do it right."

  "Right now I'm freezing my little butt off. Let's get this stuff back to the truck and talk about it where we can warm up," Josh suggested.

  Outside the ship they replaced the tree limbs as artfully as possible. Rog shrugged into the straps of the backpack, carefully favoring his back. He'd found out too many times that jerking around without thought, could leave him hurting for days if he aggravated his injuries. Josh was carrying the seed container.

  "We already made enough tracks coming in," Roger pointed out. "Let's cross to the other tree line and go inside the woods as far as we can before walking in the open again. We'll cut back to the trail, on the other side of the end with the fence."

  "Lead on," Josh told him. "You know what you are doing in the woods better than I ever will."

  Nobody spoke much on the way back. That suited Roger fine. With the cold and his back, the ten or twelve kilos of diamonds in his pack felt four times heavier than they would have, when he was younger and healthy. By the time they got back to the truck Josh was visibly limping too.

  Once he got the engine started and were waiting on the heater to catch up with the chill in the cab, Rog called ahead to town and ordered a couple pizzas to take home. None of them were going to feel like cooking or cleaning up. When they pulled out of the parking lot it started snowing again. Rog was happy that they had missed walking in it and encouraged it would cover the tracks they had made. Martee, who had commented how pretty it was this morning, seemed to have had her fill of it already.

  * * *

  "OK," Josh agreed, pushing the plate of pizza crusts away so he could lean on the table. Martee was looking with disapproval, at the waste of not eating the crusts, but didn't say anything.

  "We've been waiting patiently," Roger pointed out, "you're fed and warm. How can you help sell the stones? Or have you rethought the idea?"

  "Did you know I'm Jewish?" Josh asked him.

  "No, Koszicki just didn't seem very Jewish. Frankly it screams polka and kielbasa to me, more than matzos and, uh – funny little hats," he said cupping his hand on the crown of his head.

  "Yarmulke," Josh supplied. "Didn't the Joshua make you wonder?"

  "Nah, no more than I assumed Abraham Lincoln was Jewish," Rog quipped. "We had a scary little guy in my outfit named Zebadiah too and I can assure you he wasn't Jewish. He was from up in the hills of West Virginia. There are lots of biblical names out there."

  "Yeah, well I guess you might have a hard time telling. I'm not what they call observant," he admitted.

  "I'm supposed to have figured this out about a man who orders the Lumberjack Special, with ham, bacon and sausage for breakfast?" Roger zinged him.

  "As I said, I'm not especially religious," he said defensively. "Even if I were strictly observant by my standards, our American flavor of Reform Judaism, is regarded by the Ultra-Orthodox with some skepticism. Anyway, no matter how observant I am, I'm still Jewish by birth if not practice. That you can't get away from, no matter what you do, because of how outsiders perceive you."

  "And I'm assuming this has something to do with diamonds, because they are a big business in Israel?" Roger prodded him.

  "No, no, not Israel – New York. Jews are very prominent in the diamond trade in New York and if we can talk to the right people possibly we could get an introduction and save a lot of time and effort, by going through the Israeli consulate in New York. Even if I am American and Reform, I think I'll get a little more of a hearing, than if you called up and wanted to present an idea to them and it doesn't hurt I can speak Hebrew with them too."

  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Roger asked.

  "Now don't get too upset with me, but that's where my idea gets really crazy. Will you listen to it?" he asked.

  "If you sat at your kitchen table and heard me out about aliens and star ships, how can I deny you?" Roger said. "I'll listen at least once, even if you want to tell me about fairies and magic Josh."

  "Almost as bad," he admitted. "I'm thinking about the Mossad and the sayanim."

  "The Mossad I know, because of reading spy novels, but I wouldn't assume I really know anything about them from reading fiction. The most I'd venture to swear is that they do exist. What are the sayanim though?"

  "Wherever they need help in the world, the Mossad asks ordinary Jews for assistance. They aren't spies, just common people who can help with very ordinary things. A cabbie might take them somewhere and not log it. A business might take phone calls for one of their agents, pretending he is an employee. A doctor might treat someone and not record it. Small favors that might not be much risk but they feel they owe that much and it helps them to know they are helping Israel exist."

  "No matter how safe a Jew feels in America, or Europe, we remember the past. It's nice to know we have a place to retreat to, if history repeats itself."

  "Yeah, I can see that," Rog admitted. "Are you saying you are one of these sayanim?"

  "No, I don't even know one for sure. My dad told me he knew a sayan when he was alive, but he'd never say who. I often wondered if he was one and wouldn't admit it to me. But with all the Jews in the diamond trade they are bound to have someone, probably several, they have a relationship with in the City. If we ask who to do business with where are they going to send us? Straight to somebody they have a handle on rather than a stranger."

  "Now, I don't even want to ask for an intelligence officer when we go to the consulate office, just someone who promotes commercial activity. I wouldn't be quick to say the word sayanim either – just depend on them to do what comes naturally. If what I read is anywhere accurate, the fellow dealing with trade, is often the sort of official that does the intelligence gathering on the side, or if he isn't, he'll still report anything unusual to them. I want to ingratiate us with him slowly and let him see we have some
serious ability to generate income."

  "They should be asking us what we need, if we reel them in carefully. We don't want to look needy and desperate. In fact I'd never say let me talk to an intelligence officer. I'd say - Could you consult with one of your intelligence people? And just like the diamonds I'd never ask directly if they could do something for us, until we have a relationship. Instead, I'd ask who they could recommend approaching for what we really want."

  "Which is…?" Roger encouraged him.

  "A passport and identity for Martee, a better one than we could ever buy from some counterfeiter."

  "You think we can trust them to help us and not just take what we have?"

  "No, not entirely, you'll never know, if you happened to pick a fellow that will try to line his own pocket on the side, but we'd have a lot more recourse with them than with any agency of the US government. If say, a Federal agency seizes our diamonds under the forfeiture laws, what can we do?"

  "Not a heck of a lot," Roger admitted.

  "But if we're dealing with a foreign agency, inside the US, they have to tread a little more carefully, because if the Feds found out they swiped something out from under their noses on their own turf and are screwing around with US citizens here – they could be pissed, right?" Josh asked.

  "Yes, but we have to be very careful we don't do anything, that could be considered as supporting a foreign power against the interests of the United States."

  "I agree, but I suspect we are also going to have to offer them more than trade in diamonds, to get the kind of cooperation needed to get ID for Martee. Would you be willing to maybe trust them with one of the new plants, if they bite on the diamonds and want to expand the relationship?" he asked to Martee.

  "That sounds good to me. We have to trust somebody sometime. If they don't treat us well, we can go elsewhere. We'll hold the others back, until we see how it goes with one. Does that make sense?" Martee asked.

  "Yes," Josh agreed. "We have to dribble it out a little at a time, so they have the incentive of future business to keep treating us well at the moment. It doesn't have to be entirely trust. We'll hire a lawyer and form a corporation, to deal with whoever they bring forward to develop and patent the seed.