Insider ви-6

by Julia Latynina

  Bemish noticed a while ago that Shavash was holding the cup with the left hand while his right palm was shriveled and the fingers were slightly twisted.

  "What were you fighting about?"

  "A woman. Lady Idari, Kissur's main wife had been my fiancee before Kissur became the first minister and I became a roadside pebble. Kissur arrested a man that I owed my carreer to and obtained his position and my fiancee."

  Shavash suddenly followed Bemish's glance and hid the right hand under the table, but Bemish managed to notice his twisted fingers shaking.

  "Now we are married to two sisters. My wife is the Lady Idary's younger sister."

  "Why is he telling me this?" Bemish was horrified.

  Shavash put a peach morsel, soaked in honey, in his mouth and said after a brief hesitation,

  "Mr. Bemish! I would like to warn you as a friend. Kissur is the sovereign's favorite. He can obstruct you easily, but he can't really help you. A lot of officials hate Kissur for being Kissur. For the disdain Kissur has towards bribers and entrepreneurs, while he lives by the sovereign's benefactions. For the Kissur's opinion that no fortune is more disgraceful than a merchant's profit. For the feasts he throws for the people; for the zealots and heretics calling him the sovereign Irshakhchan reborn… Mr. Inada promised to roll Iniss carpet under your car's wheels when a friend of Kissur visits his villa… Mr. Inada will roll Iniss carpet under your wheels and he will plant a plastic bomb under the Iniss carpet. The offiicials will be signing your papers and playing foul behind your back. Kissur will praise you to the sovereign — they will prove to the sovereign that Kissur is mistaken. My advice to you is to keep your distance from him.

  Bemish chewed on his lip.

  "Mr. Shavash," he said, "I would like to remind you that if LSV is interested in acquiring your company, we will just buy it at an open-access auction. I guarrantee you that we will offer higher price that IC will, and that nobody will be able to kick us out of the auction due to some invented technicalities. Regarding the access to the financial documentation, I am sure that without Kissur I would have spend two more years obtaining it and I know probably the reasons for it. Also, if I may advise you, when you fake the reports, pay more attention to secondary indicators. You know, it's impossible that the construction rate increased by 300 % while the energy consumption stayed the same.

  The official was silent for a moment and he closed his eyes.

  "Of course. Good-bye, Mr. Bemish, and I wish you the best luck."

  X X X

  Bemish has barely driven through the Shavash's mansion gates, when a white limousine, long like a sturgeon, slid a millimeter away from him. Kissur's stuck his head out of the window and waved a hand. Bemish will-less swerved to the curb. They got out of the cars and embraced.

  "Let's go drive," Kissur demanded.

  Bemish glanced at his Urun indecisively.

  Kissur clicked his tongue — a small servant in linen pants got out of the back seat. Kissur pointed a finger at him.

  "Give him the keys and he return the car." Bemish gave him the keys and sat next to Kissur.

  "There is a great pub nearby," Kissur said, "let's go there."

  The pub was low and damp; a fountain splashed in the middle of a octagonal yard. Next to the fountain, a flat dancing god stood, with an colossal-sized penis and four breasts. The god was generally naked except for a huge advertisement boards covering him on three sides. The ad called to buy 3D-sets by the Corund company.

  A nimble chief appeared next to Kissur and placed a great grilled goose, sprinkled with lime juice and covered with a golden crust, and a palm wine jar in front of the guests. Kissur noticed that Bemish was ogling the god and asked the host,

  "How much did they pay you for putting the boards up?"

  "Two."

  "Here is four. Go and scrape this offal away." Bemish lowered his eyes. He felt crappy after the yesterday's binge, he didn't eat anything at Shavash's place — he couldn't even look at the goose! What should he do now? Bemish realized that, when Shavash mentioned the offiicials hating Kissur, he meant himself first of all — that's why he told Bemish about his fiancee and his shriveled hand… Should he tell Kissur that his brother-in-law hates him? But they are friends. It would look like an Earthman dropped by, did some fishing with Kissur and quickly contrived to sow a discord between him and his brother-in-law. Should he not say anything? What if Kissur considers Shavash his friend and will be snared sooner or later?

  Though, Kissur is hardly all that innocent. Bemish remembered how, despite being totally stoned, he was shocked by one of the Khanadar's songs about a battle with Akol people. A local tribal king dispatched his brother and other highly placed war chiefs to Kissur asking him not to attack the tribe. Kissur said, "So it will be," and showered the envoys with the gifts way more luxurous than customary. They couldn't refuse the gifts, of course, without insulting the Empire's most powerful military commander. So, they returned to the king and Kissur sent them letters in such a way that the king intercepted them. Kissur reminded in the letters that he promised not to touch their land in exchange for their king's head and he asked them when they were going to fulfill their part of agreement. The rich gifts were presented as a bribe for the king's head. The king, naturally, ordered the butchering of his brother and war chiefs, beheading the army leadership and arousing the tribe's discontent. After that, it took Kissur two days to finish him off.

  And even though everybody agreed that Kissur was not even close to deceased Arfarra with the tricks of this sort — he still didn't resemble a guileless lamb.

  Kissur, meanwhile, poured wine in the cups, covered them with the lacquered tops with straws going through, and offered Bemish a cup.

  "You are driving," Bemish reminded him.

  Kissur grasped the straw imperturably and, seemingly, gulped all the wine in a minute. Anyway, he opened the cup immediately and started to pour more wine.

  "Why are you so sad?" Kissur asked, "was the bribe, Shavash demanded from you, too large?"

  "No. It's just that I've never found myself in such a position. I don't know what to do."

  "You are doing great," Kissur laughed, "you have already fleeced Shavash for six million."

  "What?" Bemish was astonished.

  "Didn't you know? The IC company gave Shavash six million so that it gets the spaceport. Shavash has to return money now as an honest briber."

  "It's impossible," Bemish said, "the auction takes a precedence over bribes."

  "How do you know that it all depends on the auction?"

  "I came here," Bemish said drily, "only after I had learned the experts' names and met the other companies' representatives, for example, Eseko. None of them had any difficulties obtaining a permission to participate in the auction."

  "What about you?"

  Bemish got a bit embarrassed.

  "Well… small officials wanted small gifts…"

  "It has nothing to do with gifts," Kissur said, "IC paid Shavash six million dollars so that not a single company, that could really compete with it, took part in the auction. This Eseko of yours could get all the permissions with no sweat, while you and some other folks were blacklisted."

  "Shavash is really afraid this Trevis of yours. He is nervous that Trevish will devour him whole."

  "What's he raving about?" a thought passed Bemish's mind. "Where could this IC, a small and practically unknown company, scrape up such a bribe? And why? It's local mythology and tabloids."

  "I am sure," Bemish said, "that's you are not correct."

  Kissur burst out laughing and waved his hands.

  "Yeah! Shavash has already started digesting these six millions and — kabloom! You get the company!"

  Kissur laughed, happy with Shavash's failure.

  "Hold on," Bemish exclaimed, "firstly, I didn't get the company, I just obtained a permission to take part in the auction. Secondly…"

  Bemish wanted to say that, secondly, he wasn't all that hot about quarr
elling with Shavash…

  "But you will win the auction!"

  "If my offer is better than the others,"

  Here, Kissur slid his hand in the pocket and pulled out, to Bemish's astonishment, a small white box.

  "What is it," Bemish asked.

  "It's a plasma bomb," Kissur answered, taking it amiss that the Earthman has never seen such a commonplace invention of his own culture."

  "What?!! Why?!!!"

  "Why what? We'll leave it under the IC representative's door and, if he doesn't get out of the planet then, we'll stick it under his pillow."

  Bemish was dumbfounded for a while and, then, he said drily,

  "I will not do that."

  "Why? Are you afraid to get bagged?"

  "Kissur, listen," the Earthman asked, "is it true that you engaged in a personal combat during your wars, with the enemy's commanders before the battles."

  "So?"

  "Why wouldn't you, during the fight, order your archers to shoot your opponent?

  "Are you nuts?" Kissur was astounded, "all my troops would abandon me after such a base trick."

  "Was it the only reason?"

  Kissur lowered his eyes. Of course, it was not the only reason.

  Bemish sighed,

  "You know, Kissur, we grew up in different worlds and, if I was a military commander, I wouldn't engage in a personal combat before a battle. But, when I participate in an investment auction, I will not slip a bomb to my opponent. You should have some decency."

  "I've always thought, " Kissur said, "that, when money comes into play, there is no place for decency."

  "It may be true on Weia," Bemish said, "but it's not true on Earth."

  Kissur put the bomb back in his pocket as casually as a pack of cigarettes.

  THE THIRD CHAPTER

  Where Kissur opens the Emperor's eyes to a foreign briber while Terence Bemish received a gift of a luxury villa

  The next morning, Kissur was desperately bored. He called Bemish but Bemish was running around somewhere like a chicken with his head cut off. Kissur could find him but what was the point? The man is rushing from one office to another — you can screw a slut together — but bribing an official is a private matter; why would Bemish need Kissur as a witness? The other guy, Welsey, said that tomorrow they would go to the spaceport.

  Kissur beat a servant with no reason — Kissur didn't beat him really, he just pushed him a bit, but the servant slammed into a bronze vase and hurt himself badly with the vase. Kissur ate goose and marinated liver pirogi for breakfast and went to a pub and, after that, to the fortune-tellers. All the damned fortune-tellers were familiar, however, with the sovereign favorite's mug and Kissur didn't learn anything interesting.

  Finally, Kissur returned home, undressed and dived in a huge pond, inlaid with heavily veined Chakhar marble and surrounded by blooming trees, with an altar in the Western Gazebo hanging over the water.

  Kissur was leisurely swimming in the pond, when a faraway car rustled behind the carved lattice. A door banged, voices clamored excitedly, a man from the car evidently shook the servants off and stomped down the garden path.

  Kissur dived. When he got to the surface, shining leather shoes stood on the pond's marble edge. Excellent quality grey pants ascended above the shoes.

  "Ok, how much do you want?"

  Kissur raised his head — an unfamiliar Earthman, with a red and round, like a street light, face stood in front of him. The Earthman's eyes were crazed and his chin stuck out aggressively.

  "How much do you need?" the Earthman repeated. Kissur got out of water unhurriedly and shook himself like a dog. The water drops from his blond hair splashed the Earthman's expensive suit. The Earthman was clearly uncomfortable — Kissur bathed naked, out of an old Alom habit, and he didn't even try to cover himself with a towel, demonstrating his contempt for the visitor.

  "Who are you?" Kissur asked, "And what has happened to you?"

  "You know perfectly well who I am!"

  Having planted his feet against the pond's marble edge, Kissur moved his bare toes. Reddish Weian sun danced on Kissur's wet hair and on the water drops stuck in the cracks between his powerful muscles.

  "Ok. My name is Kaminsky. Five months ago, I bought the land and they promised me to classify it as industrial zoning. I started to build a garbage processing plant. Now, thanks to the complaint you filed to the sovereign, it is classified as business zoning. If I want to keep this land, I have to pay the difference in price — two hundred million. If I don't want to pay the difference, I can get my money back and the land will be resold."

  "What's my part here?"

  "Khanida demanded one million and three hundred thousand more; how much do you need?"

  "I don't sell my country."

  Kaminsky burst out laughing. His stout face shook — he was probably starting to get hysterical. He stuck his fat finger at Kissur.

  "All Weian officials can be bought and they can be bought at a clearance price. I have never seen people who want to sell so much of their motherland at such a low price."

  Kissur paled and his eyes narrowed a bit.

  "These words," Kissur said, "are not like the land in Godfather's Dale. You will pay full price for these words."

  Kaminsky burst out laughing and he suddenly pulled out a large crocodile skin wallet.

  "Of course," he said. "I'll pay. How much should it be per word? Will ten thousand be enough? Just don't tell anybody, please, that I pay money for every spit or people will be waiting in line to spit at me…"

  Kissur grabbed the Earthman by his broad tie with one hand and twisted his arm and pulled him towards himself with the other. The Earthman flipped over in the air, drew an arc and, with a thundering splash, landed in the pond. Kissur wrapped a towel around himself and, not interested in the least, whether or not his pestering visitor drowned, walked to the house.

  X X X

  Bemish spent all night studying the company reports (clearly fabricated) and he spent all day dashing around the precincts.

  He spoke to Earth three times. They told him that Werner McCormick, the LSV expert on industrial construction, would arrive at the spaceport, next to the capital, in the evening.

  At three o'clock, Bemish drove to DJ Securities. One of the best broker firms in the Empire resided in a tiny place in a distinguished neighborhood. It was located in the palace pavilion's western wing — previously the building had housed the Cheese Bureau. All these bureaus were dissolved, along with the palace administration that used to duplicate the state apparatus. The Earthmen moved in the former palace officials' pavilions. The small building, crammed with super modern hardware, greeted Bemish with wondrous flower smells and a silver fox snout jutting out of the bushes.

  The broker, he came to talk to, was a fat young man with eyes, merrily jumping, like the numbers on a money counter display, and smooth golden skin. His name was Alexander Krasnov.

  Krasnov led Bemish to an office, closed the window facing the garden, turned the air conditioning on, and they started to talk about Assalah. The approaching investment auction rumors slightly raised the Assalah shares' prices. Almost nobody was, however, willing to sell them. The Assalah stocks could still be considered non-liquid assets — the difference between the buying and selling price had reached 20 %.

  Bemish was greatly impressed with the fine emanations of success, coming from the small office, excellent employees' cars and cute long-legged secretaries.

  Before coming to Weia, Bemish had carefully studied various Weian companies' conditions and prospects; he had chosen Assalah and acquired in advance quite a significant block of shares- more than 80 % of the stocks had been acquired through Krasnov. These were bearer stocks, but an owner of a block of shares larger than 5 % was supposed to register. Bemish currently owned 6 % of the Assalah shares but he had not intention of declaring it.

  Bemish and Krasnov discussed their financial dealings and, then, the young broker plunged into his reminiscen
ces of the Weian securities' fabulous cheapness. The brokers had literally paid cents buying securities but it would not happen again unless the "Followers of the Path" gained power.

  "It was such a margin," Krasnov described. "Imagine, they sold stocks for a rice vodka crock. Do you know how much I paid for twenty seven thousand shares of Ossoriy nickel concession? A vodka barrel for the village and a Hershey chocolate bar! Do you know how much I sold them for? I sold them for four hundred thousand dinars!"

  Bemish grinned, "How much did you pay the peasants for the Assalah shares?"

  The broker was silent, pondering. Then he did something unexpected. He started to undress. He took off his jacket and wide wine colored tie; then, he took off a fashionable shirt with a vertical collar and turned his back towards Bemish. Horrified Bemish loudly exhaled. The Krasnov's back was covered with pale, but still noticeable pink welts, from the neck to the tailbone.

  Krasnov put the shirt on and coolly explained.

  "When I arrived in Assalah, a local official met me. "Broker?" — "Broker." — "Buying stocks?" — "Yes." — "Let's get to the precinct, I'll weigh you the goods." We came to the precinct, and he put me in a manure pit overnight, gave orders to whip me with a whip soaked in brine, and told me, "I wouldn't like to see you in Assalah again."

  "Oh, my God!"

  "By the way, he kindly explained his actions to me. He claimed that the people are like children, selling stocks for a vodka crock, and the officials should take care of the people's welfare. While he is alive, not a single foreign hyena will dare show its face in Assalah. Not that I couldn't appreciate his welcome, really. You know, I hadn't been whipped with a brined whip before."

  "Haven't you sued him for the whipping?" Bemish wondered.

  But Krasnov just looked at him in such a way that Bemish realized what a stupid thing he just blurted out.

  Having returned to the hotel, Bemish felt hungry and ambled to the restaurant. Galactic dinar prices were the only civilized part of the restaurant. Bemish randomly tapped couple of entries. In a moment, the waiter brought him a full bowl of steaming soup with dumplings, several small plates with appetizers and an object that reminded belatedly to Bemish about the locals' favorite — dog meat burgers.