Together with Idari, Shavash and two other useful people, he founded a local Assabank and soon, by a special sovereign's law, all the budget funds allocated by the government for the construction of the roads, communications and the other Assalah infrastructure passed this bank.
Bemish swam like a fish in the market where the quotes often fluctuated 30–40 % a week, where even relatively liquid shares had an 8 % spread and where trading based on insider information was not a crime but a norm. He had disposed of almost all the stocks a week before the government announced the new tax regulations that caused a market crash and by the year's end his fund was the only one showing a profit gain of 36 % compared to the other funds' losses fluctuating between 14 % and 86 %. The real profit was even higher, but as it had already been agreed on, Shavash obtained one third of it.
However, while Terence Bemish hung out in the capital, bought and sold accordingly to Shavash's hints, opened new banks, had fun with Kissur and gave an interview to Galamoney as the head of the company in charge of the most successful fund of the year, other people controlled the construction, most of all the company vice-president Richard Giles. Oh, of course, Bemish received the construction and money flow reports every day. A minor financial glitch, not even close to larceny, would not remain unnoticed.
"Why do you have this leftover at the active accounts?" angry Bemish screamed at the receiver. "Couldn't you place an overnight credit?"
And the leftover was only five thousand dinars.
But the peasants and workers' attitude was not reflected in any way in the financial reports and increasing theft was at first written off by Bemish as the bad heritage of two thousand years of socialism.
As Bemish realized looking back, a lot of things would have been different if the construction had started not when the peasants had been planting rice and when every pair of hands had been precious. But the construction started right in the spring — the peasants didn't let their lads go to the construction site and the guys who came later met with a construction lifestyle already in place — the lifestyle of lost city dwellers, bums and simply bandits that stole watermelons from the fields, trampled rice down, fought the village lads en masse and considered hard porn with stereo effects to be the highest achievement of the alien culture.
At one point, Bemish ran into a ceremony of Following the Way on a road and the sect's head, a tall old man with a grey beard, pointed his finger at him and started calling him a sorcerer of the basest type. Bemish inquired what exactly his sorcery was and received an answer.
"All your flashy labels and commercials, cigarettes and movies — they are all your dirty magic and rituals. You use all this to get people together."
Bemish objected.
"I am sick of these commercials no less than you are."
"This is even worse," the old man grinned. "It means that you have one culture for small people and another one for big people. This is ill-conceived because everything can be different for small people and for big people — what they own and what they wear — but their culture should be the same. The spring day is celebrated by a farm hand and in the palace. And if your workers go to see The Triple Strike and you don't… What's the point of talking about it?!"
He thought and added with curiosity.
"Is it true, that you live underground just like the wild people in the North who change their ruler every four years and, having changed him, eat him?"
"We change a ruler," Bemish admitted, "but we don't eat him."
The old man died then, Ashinik arrived to take his place and the situation worsened. Whatever Bemish did, it came out wrong. They delivered a worker to the hospital with appendicitis for surgery and Ashinik made everybody believe that the demons from the skies cut the guy's corn off and attached a goat's equipment instead and now only goats would be born from him.
Bemish had loaned some money to the village, at the previous village headman's time, and Ashinik started a rumor that they tricked the headman using his poor knowledge of English and made him sign a paper permitting the Earthmen to demolish the whole village. There was another rumor also contrived by Ashinik that Bemish had a black cord. One end of the cord was in a table drawer, in the villa, and the sovereign himself was tied to another end. If the Earthman pulled on the cord, the sovereign would toss and groan and hail would start coming down from the sky.
Slowly, bypassing official district authorities and official construction management, underground organizations started to form in the village and at the construction site. The sect grew quickly in the village. The number of zealots increased from the starting few as quickly as a crystal grows in a saturated solution once a seed crystal is submerged there. As for the construction… let's be honest, mafia started to rule the construction.
At some point, a name appeared among the private cofounders of new import-export companies — O'Hare — the same O'Hare who had been introduced to Bemish in the thief's tavern and who had taken care of the presentation.
Bemish crossed the cofounder's name out with red ink commenting that such a company would end up selling drugs and that would be really disgusting. Giles, as an Intelligence employee agreed with the company director wholeheartedly.
Only now Bemish realized how horribly he had been tricked by the small official Shavash when he agreed to take the construction out of the local authorities' jurisdiction. The district officials were corrupted and unceremonious. They could have managed both the bandits and zealots and happily ignored any humanitarian issues. They could have relocated the whole village to, say, Chakhar in three days or just burned it to the ground.
Unlike them, Bemish would not be able to drive a tank over the village or land in the middle of it, "as a miss", a sixty thousand ton space freight ship — as Shavash suggested to him altogether seriously. And not a single international legal system existed that would ban planet dwellers from singing songs and going nuts en masse.
Now, Bemish found himself in a classical chess fork — if he started arresting the zealots himself, even the most pro-Earthmen officials would be indignant. If he asked for the authorities' help, it would be a sign of his utter powerlessness.
The tipping point for the village and construction confrontation was the following. They started to dig the foundation pits for service buildings on the northern hill and dug out old temple complex remnants.
Having checked it out with archives, they found out the remnants were the old temples of Adera-benefactor goddess that had prospered almost two thousand years ago when the capital officials hadn't dared to force their way into these surroundings calling the local dwellers "bandits" but not, however, making any attempts to eradicate them.
This Adera lady had quite an irritable disposition, she had a tendency to appear in people's dreams extorting gifts and even human sacrifices, threatening with floods; indescribable orgies took place at her celebrations. The sovereign Irshahchan obliterated the temple mercilessly, recognizing this cult to be a crime against humanity and disobedience to the authorities.
Having being trained to respect any ruin, Bemish stopped all the construction there and asked Shavash and Kissur what he should do. Kissur told him to clean up the damned temple and recycle it for construction materials, if needed. Shavash took a look at the altar where boys were rumored to be offered as a sacrifice and said that the altar was not impressive as a cultural monument since carving was too crude.
The newspapers did hear about the temple however. The newspapers demanded the Earthmen to take their dirty hands away from the national heritage. Bemish snapped back tactlessly that the Weians themselves had destroyed the temple while the Earthmen actually found it.
Soon, the most unbelievable myths related to the temple riches emerged. They had dug out a large two hundred meter deep well in the temple, and a rumor emerged that every local dweller had thrown his most valuable belongings down this well as a sacrifice to Adera for centuries. Half-drunk construction workers and deranged religious peasants bel
ieved every inch of it and were climbing over the fence built around the temple twenty four hours a day. Bemish ordered an exploration of the well's bottom and, in the presence of the authorities and the journalists, loads of flint arrowheads, brass round handles and clay female figurines with huge bellies was extracted. There was a possibility that the local denizens had indeed thrown their most valuable belongings down the Adera well but, during these times, flint arrowheads had been the most valuable things here.
That, of course, didn't hurt the myth. Everybody saw how much equipment was thrown at the well and that a hundred men spent three days around it! No need! The rumors assured that the well appeared to be empty because the managers had robbed it earlier. The money amounts, the names of the spaceships used to transport the treasure to Earth, the names of the museums, the name of the construction director and Shavash's name were specified.
The morning of the eighteenth, Bemish found himself in the capital at a conference dealing with developing countries investments issues. Bemish was presented there both as a speaker and an exhibition object.
Bemish conversed with the relevant people and, immediately after the talk he left for the spaceport, having picked up a man named Born — a United Galactic Fund representative who was observing the situation with the stabilization credit allocated for the Empire.
A flock of local journalists waited for Bemish at the helicopter and attacked him with their questions.
"Mr. Bemish, is it true that when an old catalpa was ripped out at your construction, blood appeared at its roots? Doesn't this omen foretell misfortunes?"
"No."
"Is it true that a she-goat nearby changed to a he-goat?"
"A she-goat didn't change to a he-goat."
"Is it true, that they dug out a rock that had been buried during White Emperor's times and it had words written on it, "In a month after this rock is extracted the construction will perish."
"It is true. The words were, however, written with phenyl paint developed and set in production five years ago. If the zealots decide to counterfeit the White Emperor's words again, I would advise them not to buy paint in the nearest kiosk."
"Mr. Bemish, is it true that you paid taxes this year with Weian National Bank bonds at their face value?"
Here, Bemish's escort — he, accordingly to a local custom, obtained himself three beefy flatheads — socked the peppiest journalist on his jaw and the newspapermen bolted.
On the return helicopter trip to Assalah, Born inquired why the journalist's had been punched in his mug.
"He is from White Sky," Bemish answered. "This is a newspaper owned by zealots who think Earthmen to be demons crawling out from underground. They say that if we flew from the sky, we would meet gods on the way. He was asking boorish questions."
"Ah, zealot," the satisfied banker drawled, "zealots aren't dangerous."
"It's not dangerous but it's annoying," Bemish agreed.
"What were they asking about taxes?"
Bemish paused deciding whether or not he should explain. But the whole thing had raised a stink and they had mentioned about it in the newspapers couple times.
"There was a bank," Bemish said, "that went bankrupt. The government nationalized it, restructured its loans and turned them into bonds."
"And what is the bonds' value?"
"It's seven-ten percent of their nominal value."
"And at what value were your bonds appraised?"
"They were appraised at hundred percent of their nominal value."
The banker grunted with astonishment, but he controlled himself and didn't say anything.
Bemish asked Born what Weian official he liked the most, and Mr. Gerald Born named Shavash without hesitation. And he added, "What do you think — would Mr. Shavash agree to resign from his Empire appointment and head the developing markets department in our bank?"
Bemish almost gaped.
"Why do you think," He asked cautiously, "that Shavash may want to retire?"
"Because of all this slander directed at him! I can tell you with total frankness that not a single tranche of our credit would reach its destination if it was not for Shavash! The local officials would have embezzled everything! This is the only man who is doing something to save the country's economy. And what does he get back? The best Empire economist languishes under a dimwitted minister and the officials fling disgusting slander at him being unable to endure one honest man in their midst. I think that the best solution for him would be to leave this planet. Do you disagree?"
"No, not really," Bemish said, "Shavash is an amazing man — you are right."
Bemish wanted to pass Born into Giles's hands, so that the latter dealt with the guest till the take off, but Giles vanished somewhere and even his cell was off — Bemish resolved to thrash him soundly.
Bemish personally walked his old acquaintance to the boarding ramp. The latter was pleasantly surprised having learned that the spaceport had an extraterritorial status and the spaceport's management collected taxes and had independent jurisdiction."
Bemish had barely returned to his office when a phone rang.
Bemish picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Terence," the fairest Empire economist told him. "What's the story with Golden Deer Company? I heard that you detained their freight."
"There is no story," Bemish said. "It's just that there is forty tons of electronics there and they paid tariffs for five tons only. Why don't they pay everything required and pick it up."
"Terence, be so kind. Their guy will drop by — stamp his papers and let him go." And Shavash put the receiver down not waiting for a reply.
Giles announced himself in half an hour. He shakily walked in the office. His face was smashed and his expensive suit was splattered in mud.
"Oh, my God, Giles what's happened to you?"
"Somebody attacked me."
"Who was it?"
"Who was it? It was some hoodlums. It was all the damn hoodlums of this planet who don't have anything better to do than to get hired at this construction!"
"Security is your problem, Giles. If your crappy service can't pacify two dozen crooks, how is it going to pacify two dozen dictators?
"We will pacify crooks," Giles exploded. "Security troops will be here in a week."
"What? Have you sent a request?"
"I will send it today."
"I forbid you."
"Why?"
"Because, at the moment it becomes public, everybody will start selling my securities! At first, Federation Special Forces will send their troops to devaluate the construction and then they will buy it dirt cheap, won't they?"
"Won't zealots and bandits devaluate it?
"Exchange market doesn't care about zealots! It doesn't know what they mean. It perfectly well understands what the Special Forces mean!"
Giles touched his torn cheekbone.
Bemish picked up the receiver and called Shavash.
"Shavash, my deputy was assaulted today. Who? Crooks! Send your police in and eradicate these hoods."
"Terence, only Federation laws are valid at the spaceport territory. You can call your troops in but not our police."
"Call this stupid immunity off!"
"You grumbled about corrupted officials yourself…"
"Your corrupted officials, at least, will not overload themselves with legalities bashing these hoods' teeth in."
"I am glad that you see some advantages of our officials."
"They have advantages only compared to your crooks."
X X X
On the other end, Shavash switched to another line and told his secretary to summon a car. In an hour, a narrow silver car drove Shavash to a decorated gate of a bawdy house, famous across the whole country. Having ignored the welcoming girls who leaped up at his arrival, Shavash walked upstairs.
In a secluded office, a fully dressed short fifty-year-old Weian was cooling his heels off.
"You got it," Shavash said. "Bemish is going
to cleanse Assalah of crooks using federal troops."
"It's not good if Long Stick sends the troops," the short man said.
"I can't do anything here," Shavash spread his hands. "It's your fault. Who robbed Giles?"
"I will find out," the man said.
"Find it out, please. It's useful to know sometimes what your people do."
Shavash paused and added.
"You, O'Hara, are like a parasite at the construction. You suck but you don't feed, you harvest and you don't plough. Why would Bemish love you? While if you helped him…"
"How can I help him? Should I not steal? How will I make my living?"
"Why should you not steal? For instance, Bemish has serious problems with zealots. If you step on the zealots' tails, you will help Bemish."
The guy looked at the vice-minister with animosity. Weian crooks didn't attack zealots as a rule. The pickings would be slim, and the zealots would go totally mad — if you touched them they wouldn't rest till they cut the whole gang down and declare it to be gods' wrath.
"I have a feeling that the zealots blighted you, not Bemish," the thief said, "and that I will do a favor to you rather than to Bemish."
X X X
Two hours later, Bemish's helicopter landed in Kissur villa's backyard. "The master is not at home," a maid reported, "the mistress will see you in a moment. Could you, please, step into Lake Hall?"
Idari met him dressed in a blue skirt with golden sable trim and a jacket embroidered with peacocks and squirrels. Her hair was pulled up in a large black bun and a silver hairpin in the shape of a Lamass rowboat pierced the bun. Bemish looked at the hairpin and it seemed to him that the hairpin was piercing his heart.
Bemish kissed the house mistress' hand and said.
"I am touched that you received me in Kissur's absence."
Idari sat on the couch and pulled a tambour with a partially knitted belt onto her knees.
The belt was embroidered with clouds and rivers. She almost always had needlework with her.
Two servants brought fruit and cookie baskets to the veranda and departed. A tame peacock dropped by the veranda, unfolded his tail, scratched the doorstep with his red foot and left for the garden.
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