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.
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 reminiscences 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.
Bemish had just finished the appetizers, when a guy took a sit next to him. Bemish raised his eyes — it was a middling tall man with stern eyes, transparent like gasoline, and with a body that local peasants described as 'a really inept god hewed him out.' However, upon more careful inspection, the guy's face didn't go together with the overall crude image — it was hard, as if made from the twisted together wires.
'Good day, Mr. Bemish,' the man said, 'My name is Robert Giles. I represent IC company — you know, we are participating in the Assalah spaceport investment auction.
'What a coincidence,' Bemish said, 'I am participating also in it.'
'But you are not in good standing with Mr. Shavash.'
'It's not a reason for disappointment.'
'I recommend you, Mr. Bemish, to leave this planet before they kick you out of here.'
'And I recommend you to get out of this table before I bathe you in my soup.'
'Believe me, Mr. Bemish. A company's hostile takeover is intended for a civilized country. While, if you try to buy a local company, when its director doesn't want it… do you know that this director has his own jail?'
'I know,' Bemish said, 'that this director can be dismissed by the sovereign if somebody close to the sovereign proves that this director doesn't act in the company's best interest. Have you heard what happened to Joseph Kaminsky thanks to Kissur? Have I made myself clear?'
'Quite. So, Kissur stands behind you and Shavash stands behind me. Who will flatten whom into the ground?'
Here, the waiter brought Bemish the dessert and, elongating his neck, inquired Giles if he liked to order
