Chapter Fourteen
Cargo containers
As the meeting over spaceship plans ends, people drift out of the office in ones and twos. Finally, Harry and Bakman are alone and have a chance to talk. Harry motions to the open door and Bakman rises to close the door.
"It is like I thought it would be," Harry declares shaking his head. "The government can never get things done on time and under budget."
"Harry, you must have a crystal ball."
"No just old age and experience."
"Are you going to give them more money?"
"I think I have too. What conditions can I put on this money that will help get our cargo aboard?"
"What do any people new to a place need?" Bakman asks.
"That’s easy … food and shelter."
“Right. And, who's going to provide it,” asks Bakman."
"We will. Housing units will have to be some kind of a unit in a box, and food will be in boxes. With that many boxes, we should be able to load anything we want—if we have access to those boxes?"
"How many housing units does it take for three hundred people? How people many to a house?"
"Six to a house is fifty units," Harry decides.
"I'll get Maag's crew on designing a unit in a box. He knows he has to have room in the cargo area for fifty large boxes. Better yet would be two or three other kinds of containers."
Harry asks, "How much food?"
"They will need enough to last until the next shipment from earth. Also, it has to be dried and vacuum-packed or it will freeze and burst the packaging," Bakman says as he scratches his head.
"The minimum would be two years, I think. To make it look like an easy success we had better double that or triple that." Harry stares up at the now blank screens thinking before he adds, "Let's make it for five years."
"Food for five years for three hundred people will take a lot more containers. Harry, are you still thinking about donating the housing and food?"
"Yes. Extra food would help our project too. We get our housing units and food inspected. Afterward, we switch most of the housing units for our cargo, needed supplies, and extra food. A few larger units for community buildings will be large enough to house our settlers. They can divide the food and supplies out to each unit in space. They will need all they can get. So do not shortchange the order, we provide as much as the cargo space allows regardless of the cost. Okay."
"Good. But what about the forty odd billion they’re short?" Bakman asks.
"Donate that too."
"Harry, that's a lot of money."
“I've looked at it, studied on it for years, and I think around 20 billion. Plus the fifty billion to finish the project on time, but you and I know even then there will be delays." Harry smiles adding, “I’ve a few pennies saved for this rainy day.”
Harry presses a button and Wray opens the door to the office. "Put in a call to Omenosova at the U.N."
Wray nods and leaves.
Harry and Bakman wait quietly for the call. Both know that this will make everything possible. When the light on the Com comes on, a baldhead and smiling oval face appears.
"Omenosova speaking," the face tells them.
"Harry OpDyke and Duffy Bakman here at this end."
"How may the U.N. help you gentlemen today?"
"I heard your engineer estimates on the Mars spaceship came in higher than 200 billion."
"Yes, that is true. They say it will cost 42 billion more."
"I'm willing to donate fifty more billion to the project with a condition."
"The U.N. won't accept conditions from private citizens, Mister OpDyke."
"I know that. My condition is that the U.N. allows me to donate fifty temporary housing units, plus several community units, and food for five years to the first three hundred Mars colonists. More food and housing units if space permits. My people will deliver to you ready to transport the foods you select and housing units you approve of cost free. My cost will be between 20 or 30 billion. You said the U.N. will not accept conditions from a private citizen. My donation will make the first Mars colony a success. Without it, you will have more costs and delays. If you guess wrong on the least amount of food and shelter needed people die, and your Mars Colony Project fails."
"Mister OpDyke, you are most generous. I believe that I can get the others in the council to accept both donations."
"Good and for your kindness of allowing this poor citizen to suggest solutions, I will send along an extra ten billion toward the next surprise costs." Harry OpDyke answers and turns his head to point at Bakman.
"I have weak heart spells, and if I'm unable to work with you on this proposal my assistant Duffy Bakman can speak for me. I will have my secretary arrange today for the two bank transfers: one for fifty billion and one for ten billion. Duffy Bakman will get my people started working on ideas for food and housing. Have your people address any information and requests to Noble Maag this building. He will oversee the collection of food, housing units, and design of cargo containers for your people to approve of."
"Very good . . . I'm glad you called Mister OpDyke. It was good to meet you Mister Bakman. Is there anything else today?"
"OpDyke out."
"Omenosova out," and the screen went blank.
"That was an easy way to give away 90 billion dollars," Harry laughs and starts coughing.
"I think you've done enough today, Harry."
Harry nods and presses the button for Wray. When Wray enters, Harry points upward meaning he wants to go home. Wray steps into the office to guide Harry's hover chair to the elevator, and Bakman follows after turning off computers and screens. Duffy gives Harry a wave as the elevator door closes.
At the office doorway, Zee steps forward to take Bakman's arm. He smiles at Zee, jerks his head upward, and whispers, “I feel like a picnic."
"Breen does not want you on the rooftop.”
With a wink Bakman turns his head to tell Wray, “When you get a chance call down to the basement and send the mechanical Dee up to my room. Both of my Dee’s, Vee, Zee, and I are going to have a picnic. And, call up to the 27th floor and tell Conrad to prepare a carry down lunch for five to the 26th. My Dee will send a suggested menu up in a few minutes.”
The elevator car returns, the door opens, and Wray hears Bakman tell Zee before it closes, “We can push all the furniture back in the family room. It’s the largest, spread blankets on the floor, lay out our food on a blanket, and we sit on . . . .”
That evening on the lower southeast side of New Dallas at 11:37 in the DeBartolo Building under the Seventh Causeway Bakman, Zee, and Taud walk into the Maroon Room a little less than an hour before closing. A few heads in the crowd watching a shapely yellow-blonde mechanical female wearing an extra tight pink tunic dance turn to stare at Zee’s pink tunic as does the bartender. A softly spoken secret phrase and the bartender led them into the backroom and returns to the bar.
Inside, Bakman sees a sweating bald fat man standing inside a plastic shield and a red dot on the far walls shows it is armed. The fat man wipes his face with an already wet handful of bar towel and nods at Bakman who shakes hands with Woll the Clone. Woll glances at Traud and briefly stares at Zee.
“I’m Bakman. Thanks for the tip,” and hands Woll a book for providing a name and arranging this meeting.
After Woll accepts the book, he gives Bakman a nod, “We never met.”
With a returned nod of understanding Bakman turns to hand the sweating frightened fat man two books, shows him the numbers are sequential, and accepts a small seven-by-four inch dark purple imitation leather Velcro strip bag. Without any more words Woll touches the wall’s disarming panel, the red light fades out. One of Woll's men steps in to help the weak legged fat man to and through Woll’s open rear escape door. Turning in the doorway Woll holds up his hand to end their brief meeting and his escape door starts to slide shut.
A smiling Bakman responds with a raised hand and tells Woll the Clone, “It wa
s a good meeting . . . we did not have!” The door closes. Its lock clicks and the returning bartender motions them out.
Outside on the causeway Bakman asks Traud, “Who was that fat man?”
“You don’t want to know,” Traud replies. “Sorry to bring you into this Boss. Ran into a brick wall with three other tries and stopped in here yesterday morning to offer to pay Woll for a lead. Woll made a call and in ten minutes he gave me the fat man’s name. We talked and the man agreed to sell us one. But, he would only deal with a big name to drop if he got caught. The fat man knew from my card that I represent you and he would only hand it over to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. We won’t tell on him. He won’t tell on us. If he’s any kind of a thief no one will know. Did not see a serial number on the case? The U.N. can’t keep track of every unnumbered crimper case.” Bakman nods at Traud, looks inside the case, sees three blank wax seals and a genuine U.N. crimper. Smiling Bakman hands the purple bag back to Traud, walks to the freight elevator, and presses basement.
On the way down to the Fourth Causeway Zee moves in closer and Bakman tells Traud, “Give it to M. Time to go home.” Bakman enjoyed the full moon run on a large hover with Traud driving and Zee’s searching eyes studying every shadow.
Back in his apartment the others are asleep. Zee smiles, lays her purse on a hallway table, and heads for her bedroom.
In the hallway outside his bedroom a smiling Dee, the mechanical Dee, stood waiting for him. Warmly Duffy kisses and hugs her. Dee the mechanical whispers softly in his ear.
“The others are asleep. Dee asked me to come upstairs and wait up for you. We are not to wake her.”
A grinning Bakman kisses Dee the mechanical warmly. With his arm around his companion he leads her down the hall into a spare bedroom.
The Centauri Conspiracy Page 16