'I offered new securities to the investors instead of this crap.'
'What did they do?'
'They sent me to hell. Ronald just delivered their responses.'
'I see. Is this company bankrupt?'
Bemish didn't answer.
'If we flatten all this shit into the ground, will your bonds cost more?'
'We should flatten this shit into the ground anyway,' Trevis muttered, 'even if it doesn't save the company.'
Later, they reconstructed the events the following way. At 18:00, Kissur accompanied by Khanadar the Dried Date and by ten fighters walked into the main office where all the upper company management had already gathered; Trevis was also there with two aides. Bemish and Giles came in slightly later. They were both armed. Bemish took a note that Kissur was dressed very carefully — he wore a perfect white shirt, a proper black suit and an unassuming tie of correct width — the clothing item that Kissur loathed the most. On the other hand, a gun under Kissur's armpit was large enough that even a perfectly designed suit failed to conceal it. Giles slapped Kissur on the shoulder and said, 'Damn it, Kissur! You are the man! Without you we would be in shit up to our necks!'
'This way we will be in blood up to our necks,' Bemish spoke quietly.
Giles spun.
'Be silent, Terence, when other people have to do your laundry.' And he turned back to Kissur.
'What are you going to do to the zealots?'
'What should I do to them to be accepted to the military academy?'
Giles was dumb-founded for a moment and then he answered, 'Shoot them.' Bemish swallowed. He was certain that Kissur would agree to this proposal. Doesn't he understand, however, that no public opinion would tolerate him in the academy after such a bloodbath?
Kissur laughed out, slapped, in his turn, Giles on his shoulder and declared, 'Better late than never. You, Earthmen, get bold only when the stocks of your companies plummet! Listen, Dick, let's exchange!'
And Kissur pulled his 9mm Star out of the gun holder and handed it over to Giles handle first. The gun's barrel was in its original state while its handle was covered by beautiful engraving over attached silver plates.
Giles hesitated for a moment, pulled his gun out and handled it over to Kissur.
He took the gun, checked if it was loaded and declared loudly, 'And now, monkeys, stick your faces in the floor and your asses in the air! You are under arrest!'
The fighters behind Kissur raised their assault rifles.
'Are you joking, Kissur?'
'It's not a joke, dog! Get down! Down!'
Giles was lost; he looked at the Star in his hands and pulled the trigger. The gun only clicked — it was not loaded.
Several employees started slowly rising out of the table with the hands up.
The next moment, Bemish whipped his gun out of the holder but, before he was able to pull the trigger, fighter kicked the gun out of his hand with his rifle's butt. Bemish turned and, with a dull thud, his fist collided with the fighter's solar plexus. The latter moaned and sagged to the floor.
Two Alom fighters rushed at Giles. The security service head dropped the useless gun and the guys started twisting his elbows back. Giles butted one of them with his head in the stomach and threw the other one over. The fighter dropped his rifle and Giles snatched the falling weapon. The next moment a rifle burst sounded — Kissur was firing. One after another, heavy bullets with zinc outer layer were making holes in the clothing and the body of the security service chief. Giles swayed. His face showed astonishment. He looked at his jacket stained with blood, muttered, 'Why?' and crashed to the floor letting the gun go.
Meanwhile, two more fighters rushed at Bemish. Having cried out, one of them smashed into the table with his face. The papers prepared for the meeting flittered and flew around the room like white geese. The other one sailed ass forward into a flat, built in terminal, crashed to the floor and stayed there. Bemish leaped over the table and charged at Kissur. A rifle burst formed a series of holes in the floor in front of Bemish and he froze. Kissur and the company director stood surrounded by the fighters.
'Don't be dumb, Terence,' Kissur said, waving the gun, 'Put your hands behind your head or you will enter the other world together with Giles.'
Bemish stood with his tie askew and his perfect shirt's collar torn. The shirt had been absolutely fresh. Bemish took a shower half an hour ago and changed it and he felt now how the cloth under his armpits and behind his back was getting wet and sticky with his sweat.
'Raise your hands, Terence,' Trevis muttered lying on the floor, 'Don't you see — they are nuts.'
The next moment Bemish dove forward and his hand locked on Kissur's wrist. In a moment the gun flew to the side and Kissur and Bemish rolled over the floor in a tight embrace. The fighters didn't dare shoot — they were afraid of hitting their master and they also believed that to kill one of the enemies locked in personal combat was not cool.
Kissur's steel hands locked at his foe's neck. Bemish's ears rung, the room's ceiling spun and started floating upwards. Bemish hit Kissur in the groin with his knee. The latter hissed but didn't let go. Twisting, Bemish rolled onto his side and drove his heel into Kissur's kneecap.
Kissur roared. A lock and a snatch followed and, having thrown the barbarian over, Bemish leapt on his feet.
Time froze as a sentinel at a gate. Bemish was watching Kissur falling vertically, head down to the floor and he could already hear the crunching sound that vertebrae would make breaking over hard wood. For a moment he wanted to rush to his friend and spot him but he realized that he would be late. He also realized that he would die a second after this sound came.
At the last moment, Kissur threw his arms forward and his hands rustled touching the hardwood floor. Kissur somersaulted over his head and having pushed himself off the floor with his hands, kicked Bemish horribly with both legs in his chest. Bemish flew away to the wall. Kissur's fist missed his jaw by a millimeter. Bemish dove and landed a short jab in Kissur's solar plexus. Kissur swayed. Bemish drove his heel into Kissur's groin. The latter roared. The next moment, he jumped at his opponent and he jammed Bemish in the ribs with his knee. The company director was thrown to the floor. He barely had time to turn aside and then Kissur's heavy boot kicked him in the chin once and again.
Bemish tucked his knees in and, right at this moment, he saw in the ceiling's light Kissur's contorted face far above him and his blackened fist right next to his eyes. Then something exploded and flashed in Bemish's head. The world sank and fell like a flower petal and Bemish lolled on the floor like a man who had his skeleton extracted so that only the meat was left. Two fighters locked handcuffs on his wrists and dragged him by his legs out of the room. The Assalah director's head trailed down the office's freshly waxed hardwood floor, blood seeped out of his light hair.
'If anybody moves,' Kissur said, 'he will get nine grams heavier.'
And he pointed at dead Giles.
'What does it mean?' Ronald Trevis asked from the floor.
'The spaceport is taken over.'
'Who took over it?'
'It is the party of people's freedom.'
Then, dressed in Earth clothing, Kissur smiled and took a broad marine knife from a warrior standing next to him. Slowly and enjoying himself, he wrapped his dark red bordeaux colored tie around his left hand and, grinning broadly, he cut it off at the top.
Afterwards, everybody admitted that, on the technical side, the operation had been performed brilliantly.
At 18.05, an announcement sounded out of the Assalah spaceport loudspeakers. A slightly hoarse voice with a trace of Alom accent said, 'Ladies and gentlemen! The Assalah spaceport is controlled by me, Kissur, and the party of people's freedom. All the spaceport guards have been disarmed. Nobody should move from where
