Exile-and Glory

by Jerry Pournelle

  "I see. Incorruptible. A pity," Doyle said thoughtfully.

  "Our associates have already marked him dangerous," Van Hartmann said. "Should I inform them that Ortiz is a man beyond reason?" Van Hartmann was casual, as if he were discussing the falling price of manganese.

  "No, please."

  "The stockholders are extremely concerned," Van Hartmann said. His voice took on a note of warning. "The Board has authorized you to take whatever measures may be required. You may request action by stockholder associates as you think best. They want immediate results."

  "I understand," Enoch said quietly.

  "Immediate results," Van Hartmann repeated. "It should not be necessary for you to call us again."

  "Yes. A request, Herr Van Hartmann. It will be easier for you than me until I have placed new agents in Buenos Aires. Please have someone approach General Rasmussen and Colonel Mendoza to arrange for the junta to meet with me. Colonel Ortiz will not negotiate, and I cannot persuade them until they will talk to me. I would prefer that the request for a meeting come from them."

  "It can be arranged," Van Hartmann said. "Anything more than that you must do yourself. Is that all?"

  "Yes."

  "The stockholders will expect to hear of results. Soon." The line went dead, and there was a long silence.

  "I have known Colonel Ortiz," Inspector Ortega said. "He is a good man. It is a pity."

  "Yes."

  "I suppose there is no possibility of legal action? Eventually we might obtain compensation—"

  "No." Doyle shook his head positively. "The security of the contracts between OCEANIQUE and the Argentine was directly and absolutely guaranteed by INTERSECS. If we let this outfit get away with confiscation of Santa Rosa, the whole structure of international trade will be affected. Contracts must be honored."

  Ortega sighed. "I am a policeman. I suppose I might also be described as a soldier. I do not make company policy. But I cannot help but think that—"

  "If you are wise, you will not finish that sentence," Enoch said quietly. "Do you think there's a man among us who hasn't thought the same bloody thing? Do I have to give you the usual pep talk about international law enforcement?"

  "No. Intellectually I am convinced. And I remain loyal. But I do not like it, Superintendent."

  "None of us do. I've got a few hours before Zurich gets those buzzards to call me. Where can I get some skis?"

  The slopes were not good, Enoch decided. The snow was artificial, and the slopes too gentle. He gave it up as a bad job, wondering why anyone would pay the prices the gaming and recreation concessionaires charged. It was just as well that he quit early, because the call from Buenos Aires came not long after he returned to Inspector Ortega's office.

  The screen showed five officers in Argentine uniform. Doyle recognized Colonel Ortiz, and was introduced to the others. Ortiz seemed to be the spokesman.

  "My compatriots believe it would be useful to meet with you," Ortiz said without preliminaries. "I do not, but they have persuaded me to discuss it."

  "Señor Coronel, are you familiar with the terms of the contracts your government has signed?" Doyle asked carefully. "Let me refresh your memories, señores. You have over twenty million gold francs on deposit in Zurich to back your currency. All of that is forfeit upon abrogation of our contracts. Surely this is a sufficient reason for negotiations? Argentine cannot be overly endowed with hard currency reserves." Doyle knew to the centime what currencies were held by the central banks of Buenos Aires.

  "We had written that off," Ortiz said. There was a buzz of conversation behind him. Evidently his colleagues hadn't. Ortiz turned to confer with them, then spoke to Doyle again. "When do you suggest we hold this meeting? We are willing to grant you safe conduct."

  "I much regret that I cannot come to Buenos Aires," Enoch said carefully. "It is not that I do not trust your word, but we hold contracts with the Argentine, yet my people are under arrest in your country at this moment. It would serve no useful purpose for me to join them."

  Ortiz flushed and opened his mouth to shout, but he was interrupted by General Rasmussen. "We can understand that view, Superintendent Doyle. Yet surely you do not suggest that the ruling council of a sovereign nation should travel to an iceberg and confer with the representatives of a private company!"

  A company with a bigger budget than a lot of nations, Doyle thought. But no matter. "Would Montevideo be convenient?"

  General Rasmussen shrugged. "It is a matter of principle, Señor Doyle. It would not appear proper for us to come to you, even if we wished to do so. It would enrage our people—"

  "We will not come to you," Ortiz said coldly. "We are the ruling council of the Argentine Republic. We do not travel to meet the lackeys of a corporation which exists on slavery."

  "Then we are at an impasse already," Doyle said. "A pity. I think that when the news of your, ah, currency difficulties becomes widely known there is very likely to be a loss of confidence in your peso. Widespread selling. A few million francs in gold is not so much, but these things always seem to snowball."

  "I see. You threaten us with economic war if we do not come to meet you. You would do that in any event, whether we meet or not," Ortiz said.

  "A moment." The new man was tall and slender, and superficially resembled Ortiz. Colonel Mendoza. "If, perhaps, we released your colleagues as a gesture of good faith, would you then be willing to come here?"

  Doyle smiled. That's round one, he thought. "Certainly, Coronel. You see, we are not so difficult to do business with . . . ."

  There were soldiers in the streets of Buenos Aires. Enoch saw them as an Army staff car took him from the airport to the Casa Rosada. As they hustled him into the Presidential Palace, he barely had time to mark the contrasts on the Plaza del Mayo: palm trees and fountains, impressive nineteenth-century granite buildings with air conditioners protruding from the windows, a Gothic cathedral. Between the old buildings were modern steel and glass structures; and there were tanks on the broad white walkways under the palm trees.

  Enoch went first to the office of General Rasmussen. El General was stocky, built like a wedge, with thick meaty lips and dark eyes. He eyed Doyle warily. When the aides left the room, and Enoch had declined a drink, the general leaned forward confidentially. "You understand that I am in sympathy with your efforts, but that I do not control the council?" he asked anxiously.

  "Certainly, General," Enoch said. "We appreciate your efforts. What I don't understand is, why have we been singled out? Your council isn't giving the other companies nearly this much trouble."

  Rasmussen shrugged. "It is Colonel Ortiz," he said. "He is a maniac, Superintendent! No compromise. The holdings of OCEANIQUE must be seized, and all contracts with INTERSECS cancelled. He is willing to release your people, but it was difficult to persuade him even that far."

  "Hmm. And if his opposition ceased?"

  "Then, I think, it would be well between us. He is the leader of Opus Dei, and that is three votes in the junta. But he will not be persuaded, Superintendent. It is not my fault. I have done the best I can for you; to go further would accomplish nothing except that I would be called a traitor to the revolution and a tool of the corporations . . . ."

  "We understand, General. We believe these contracts are in the interests of your country. It is gratifying to know that you share that belief. Certainly we will have disagreements, but we are both reasonable men . . . ." The damn fool, Enoch thought. If Ortiz doesn't have this office bugged, he's a fool. Rasmussen was a non-political official under Molina, put on the junta for national unity. But how did a creature like that get to be a general? "I suppose, then, that I should speak with Colonel Ortiz. Can I be taken to his office?"

  "Certainly." Rasmussen rang for an orderly. "It has been pleasant to meet with you, Superintendent. And you will not forget that—"

  "That you are a reasonable man. No, certainly not. Thank you, General."

  Ortiz had offices directly across from
the ornate Presidential suite; and the President's offices were empty. Symbolic, Enoch thought. And dangerous. He was kept waiting in an anteroom.

  "I-N-F-O-R-M-A-T-I-O-N," he thought.

  "ON LINE."

  "O-R-T-I-Z X-X J-E-S-U-S M-A-R-I-A X-X C-O-N-N-E-C-T-I-O-N-S W-I-T-H O-C-E-A-N-I-Q-U-E."

  "NONE SIGNIFICANT."

  "R-E-L-A-T-I-V-E-S C-O-N-V-I-C-T-E-D U-N-D-E-R C-O-N-T-R-A-C-T."

  "NONE IN RECORDS."

  "P-U-T M-Y A-S-S-I-S-T-A-N-T I-N T-H-E L-O-O-P."

  "I'M ON, BOSS." The voice wasn't different, of course; but now Enoch could ask questions in normal language and Timothy would program them into the computer—provided the Argentines didn't do something about his communications. Implant to Enoch's briefcase, briefcase to the aircraft he'd come in; aircraft to Zurich and Malvinas, via satellites; any of the lines were vulnerable to jamming. The codes were supposed to be unbreakable, though. He might be jammed, but he wouldn't be overheard. He hoped.

  The office had been ornately furnished for one of General Molina's assistants, and Ortiz hadn't changed the decor. The colonel wore the same uniform as before, or a newly pressed copy of it. Neat, Enoch thought. Best description of him. Mustache seems to have been clipped one hair at a time. No religious memorabilia in evidence—is that normal for a Catholic Action type?

  The dossier had been complete. Ortiz was intelligent, well-educated, popular with his troops and the communities they'd been stationed in. He seemed to have an understanding of international economics. INTERSECS consultants thought he'd be a stabilizing force and might be the best leader Argentina had come up with since before the multiple Peron regimes. Except for one point. He hated INTERSECS.

  "You saw General Rasmussen before you came to me. I am surprised. I had thought you would consult with Colonel Mendoza," Ortiz said. There was no trace of a smile.

  "I do not comprehend, Coronel."

  "We will pay his gambling debts, of course. Colonel Mendoza will be a very useful man when he no longer has reason to fear or love you. Now I must investigate General Rasmussen. You see, I am a realist, Superintendent Doyle."

  Enoch showed no surprise, but his features were locked in a rigid mask. "Coronel Ortiz, why is this necessary? There is so little to negotiate. Your threat to seize Malvinas, for example. A bargaining point, but not one of consequence. I dealt with it before leaving Zurich. We simply pay higher royalties to the United Kingdom. The British lion is toothless, perhaps, but not so helpless that he cannot defend the Falkland Islands and their offshore sea bottom, as Argentina found once before."

  Ortiz's eyes narrowed slightly. Then he shrugged. "I had not expected quite such prompt action. I had hoped to present England and the UN with a fait accompli. Very well, you have taken one bargaining counter, but what will you do about Santa Rosa? That, Superintendent, is entirely an internal affair of the Argentine Republic."

  "But conceded on lease to OCEANIQUE," Doyle said. "At your former government's request, I remind you. You receive the taxes, but have no necessity to provide government. Not even to operate jails and prisons—"

  "Yes. You enslave people—"

  "We collect the economic costs of their crimes for the victims. And we permit them to work. They keep a portion of their wages, and if they have dependents another portion is sent to their families. To be frank, Señor Coronel, foreign technicians would not entrust themselves to General Molina's justice. Even the Argentine citizens who work for us prefer our justice to yours. Only the incorrigibles, those who will not work at all, would rather be in an Argentine prison."

  "There will be changes in the Ministry of Justice," Ortiz said coldly.

  "Your pardon, Coronel, but all that has been said before. Here and elsewhere, and many times."

  Ortiz said nothing.

  "And what value is Santa Rosa to you?" Doyle asked. "You harm OCEANIQUE, but do no good for your country. Without Santa Rosa, Malvinas cannot operate. Without Malvinas, you have problems obtaining minerals. Without low-cost minerals—how soon before Chrysler begins laying off auto workers in La Plata? Where will GE get the copper for the radios they make in Montevideo? Your neighbors will not be pleased to see Malvinas harmed, Señor Coronel. Uruguay and Chile need the products sold by OCEANIQUE. You risk your whole economy, and for what?"

  "Those contracts are not fair, Superintendent. OCEANIQUE makes enormous profits and we get none of them. Yet it is our people who work in those deathtraps of undersea mines."

  Doyle nodded. "The profits are high, but the risks were enormous. It took a great deal of capital, and in these days of high taxes, risk capital is always very careful. Nobody would finance Malvinas without the chances of high profit."

  Ortiz made a gesture of dismissal. "These matters may be adjusted. But INTERSECS will leave the Argentine, and immediately. There will be no more extraterritorial rights, as if our Republic were composed of barbarians not fit to enforce its own laws against European technicians. INTERSECS must go."

  Enoch looked up with interest. "C-O-N-N-E-C-T O-R-T-I-Z T-O I-N-T-E-R-S-E-C-S."

  "TRYING EVERYTHING, BOSS."

  "Why do you dislike us so?" Doyle asked.

  Ortiz sniffed coldly. "A private company with pretentions of sovereign rights. Company judges decided the fate of our people after company police arrested them for violation of company regulations. And you have the temerity to guarantee the pledged word of the Argentine Republic!"

  "I do not wish to be impolite, Coronel, but the Argentine Republic is not keeping its word—"

  "It was not the action of my people! General Molina made those pledges."

  "Are they so unreasonable? There were, it is true, payments made in special form directly to the President of the Republic. Perhaps you will be good enough to tell me how those should be made in future?"

  "You offer me bribes?"

  "Of course not. But the payments were understood, if not part of the formal contracts, and your government should have them—"

  "Get out," Ortiz said. "You and your slavers. Leave."

  "A-N-Y L-E-V-E-R O-N O-R-T-I-Z INTERROGATIVE."

  "NOT A DAMN THING, BOSS."

  "Coronel," Doyle said carefully. "I beg you to reconsider. To many corporations, INTERSECS is their only guarantee of international contracts. Our guarantees are always enforced. A government cannot be sued in any court unless it wishes to be. It can always escape an agreement it no longer cares for, or defy an International Court award it does not like. INTERSECS takes no part in the negotiation of contracts, and never guarantees any agreement unless asked by the governments concerned, but our guarantees are known to be reliable. You threaten more than the interests of OCEANIQUE and your economy. You threaten the structure of international trade."

  "Then it is time that rotten structure is destroyed. There is no place for such as you among sovereign governments. There is no more to discuss."

  "A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G A-T A-L-L INTERROGATIVE URGENT."

  "NOTHING WE CAN USE."

  Doyle stood slowly. He had been thoroughly searched before entering the Casa Rosada, of course; but even the best detection equipment cannot find a weapon whose nature is unsuspected. "I remind you, Coronel, that it is to the interest of every government that the great corporations believe contracts will be enforced. I am sorry we cannot act as reasonable men." Enoch looked casually around the room and fixed his attention on a wall plaque. "Very nice."

  Ortiz looked around. As he did, Enoch's hands came together and applied pressure to his class ring. The stone fell out. The exposed part of the stone was hermetically sealed, as had been the back side until now. As he left the office, the volatile back of the stone began to sublimate.

  The plane winged across the Atlantic toward Zurich.

  Another small scar on my conscience, Doyle thought. In the old days, gunboats might have bombarded Argentine ports, and marines landed to collect Argentine customs duties until all payments were satisfied. Certainly we are more civilized than in the old days.


  The phone buzzed insistently. Enoch lifted it. "Superintendent Doyle."

  "We found it, Boss," his assistant said. "Trouble was, there were name changes involved. We had to feed Ortiz's fingerprints into the system. Here it goes.

  "ORTIZ, JESUS MARIA, DEFINITELY INDENTIFIED AS JESUS MARIA RUIZ, ORPHAN AT SANTA YNEZ CONVENT BHIA BLANCA. AT AGE TWELVE RUIZ APPLIED FOR ADMISSION TO INTERSECS ACADEMY. REJECTED.

  MARGINAL ACADEMIC TEST SCORES AND PSYCHO DOWN-CHECK DIAGNOSIS RIGID PERSONALITY. REAPPLIED AGE SEVENTEEN REJECTED ACADEMIC TEST SCORES SATISFACTORY BUT PERSONALITY DIAGNOSIS UNCHANGED. ADD HOSTILITY TO INTERNATIONAL CORPORATIONS PARTICULARLY INTERSEC. HOSTILITY WAS CONCEALED AND SUBJECT POSSIBLY UNAWARE AT CONSCIOUS LEVEL.