"To thank?" The general's jaw dropped like a lead weight. "Are you telling me..."
"I'm pointing out that the captain has done a good deal to forward our concerns at State--both here on Landoor and in the Zenobian alliance. Some important allies might take it the wrong way if the captain's broad interpretation of his orders were taken as grounds for punishing him, especially in view of how things have turned out. State doesn't like to meddle in the Legion's business, but a word to the wise..."
"Ambassador, I'm old enough to know better than to spit into the wind," said Blitzkrieg. He picked up his gin and tonic and drained it in a gulp. Then he stood and said, "Since State intends to stick an oar in, we'll let the violations of orders slide--this time. But it would be in the captain's best interests to learn to do things the Legion way. Ambassador, thank you for the drink."
"You're welcome, General," said Ambassador Gottesman genially. "The Legion will profit by this in the long run."
Phule watched the general go out the door--a beaded curtain that concealed a low-level force field that kept the cool air inside from escaping--then turned to the ambassador. "Sir, I don't know how to thank you. If there's anything I can do..."
The ambassador smiled. "Captain, State will take its quid pro quo sooner than you think. In fact..."
"Excuse me, gentlemen," said an unfamiliar voice.
Phule and the ambassador looked up to see two humans dressed in identical bad suits: the IRS agents, Peele and Hull. "Why, what a surprise to see you here," Phule said, not meaning a syllable of it. "Somehow, I didn't expect to see you here in NewAtlantisPark. I hope you're enjoying yourselves..."
"Not in the least, Mr. Phule," said Agent Peele, with no trace of humor. "We had been at the park office on business--looking for you, as a matter of fact--and were on our way out when we ran into your superior, General Blitzkrieg. We inquired as to your whereabouts, and he directed us here."
"A stroke of luck," said the ambassador. "Will you have a seat and join us in a drink?"
"You know, I think for once I will," said Special Agent Hull, pulling back a chair and plopping herself into it. Peele's mouth fell open; then, shrugging, he pulled back another chair and joined his partner. The ambassador signalled the waiter, and after they'd ordered drinks--unsweetened iced tea for Peele, and a tequila and tonic for Hull--Phule sat back and waited to hear what the IRS agents had to say.
Peele looked at the ambassador, then shrugged and said, "It's not customary to talk business in front of a third party, but I suppose this time there's no reason not to. Mr. Phule, I'm disappointed in what we've learned, and there's no two ways about it. You've set up your affairs at the Fat Chance Casino so as to minimize your personal profits, and we can't find any irregular practices at all. This is anomalous."
"Not at all," said Phule. "It's simply good business. My butler set up the programs himself."
"Yes, there's a sharp character," said Hull, staring into her drink. "We had no luck at all dealing with him. You'd think he'd written the regulations himself, with your personal benefit in view. Every time we thought we'd spotted a few million, he'd find a way to make it vanish. I wish we had somebody like that on our team, to tell you the truth."
"To tell you the truth, I'm glad you don't," said Phule. "So does this mean I don't owe you anything, after all?"
"Worse than that," said Peele, gloomily. "That rascal of a butler found a loophole giving double deductions for investment in undeveloped worlds, for which of course you are eligible."
"Well, that's a relief," said Phule, suddenly sitting up straighter.
"To you, perhaps," said Peele. "But it goes on. As you may know, Mr. Phule, when you travelled here, by a peculiarity of hyperspace, you arrived on Landoor before you left Lorelei. Your butler discovered a precedent that allows you to apply the deductions to last quarter's income despite the fact that you didn't loan out the money until after you arrived here."
Peele slumped in his chair, glaring across the table for a moment. At last he said, "Mr. Phule, unless we can find an error in your butler's figures, I am afraid that we owe you a damned refund!"
Chapter 18
After the IRS agents left Joe's Jungle Juice, Ambassador Gottesman took Phule back to the park offices, where a rollicking party had broken out to celebrate the opening. Le Duc Taep was playing bartender, pouring chilled Aldebaran champagne for all.
There was a cheer when Phule came through the door, and Le Duc Taep handed him a water glass full of champagne--they had run out of proper flutes early in the festivities. "Speech, speech!" shouted Rev, and the legionnaires took up the chant until Phule mounted a chair and raised his hand for silence.
"I'm going to make this short, because there isn't very much to say, and I'm sure you'd all rather be drinking than listening to speeches," he said. This brought another cheer.
"Ambassador Gottesman tells me that both NewAtlantisPark and LandoorPark have been doing spectacular business all day long," he continued. "As far as I'm concerned, this means we've accomplished even more than we hoped to. By making this the best park we could, we forced the government to keep making its park better, and now, thanks to all of you, this world has the two best theme parks in the galaxy!"
"I've also found out that the casino back on Lorelei has been even more profitable than expected, which means that each of you will be earning approximately twice what we projected. I hope all you legionnaires have taken advantage of the tax shelters we've set up for you--I just got an excellent lesson in how important good tax advice can be."
"And finally, I want to thank Flight Leftenant Qual, who's been with us as an observer--and a good friend--for the last several months. The ambassador tells me that Qual's mission is complete and he's been recalled to his home world--but he'll always find a welcome if he visits Omega Company." Another cheer went up, amid cries of "Qual! Qual!" The little Zenobian stood in the corner grinning, holding a tall glass of water--his race didn't use alcohol, but he was clearly as happy as anyone in the room.
"One last thing, and then I'll let you get back to the party. Ambassador Gottesman tells me that in part because of our good treatment of Leftenant Qual, the Federation has signed a peace treaty with the Zenobian Empire. That's one more feather in the Omega Mob's cap! So let me offer a toast: To the Omega Mob, the best outfit in the Legion--and I'll fight anybody, right up to the commanding general, who tries to tell me anything else!"
"Hear, hear," cried Moustache, and the assembled legionnaires broke into cheers. Out in the park, a band was playing a syncopated dance tune, and from somewhere a little farther away, there came the rumble of a roller coaster and the involuntary squeals of passengers as the lead car dove into the steep plunge that began the ride. Phule raised his water glass and took a deep draught of ice-cold champagne, then threw back his head and laughed. It had been a very good day after all.
A Phule and his Money Page 28