“Humphries is trying to undersell you.”
“Astro can’t sell at a loss. The directors won’t stand for it.”
Fuchs felt his lips curl into a sardonic smile. “Humphries is on your board of directors still?”
“Yup. He’s promised not to lower HSS’s prices any further.”
“He’s lying. They’re offering circuit boards, chips, even repair services at lower and lower prices. He’s trying to drive me out of the market.”
“And once he does he’ll run up the prices as high as he pleases,” she said.
“Naturally. He’ll have a monopoly then.”
They had reached the airlock hatch. It was big enough for two spacesuited people, but not three, so they sent Ripley through first.
Pancho watched the engineer close the hatch, then said, “Lars, what Humphries really wants is to take over Astro. He’s been after that since the git-go.”
“Then he’ll have a monopoly on all space operations, everywhere in the Belt…everywhere in the whole solar system,” Fuchs said, feeling anger rising within him.
“That’s what he’s after.”
“We’ve got to prevent that! Whatever it takes, we must stop him.”
“I can’t sell you goods at below cost, buddy. The board’s made that clear.”
Fuchs nodded wearily. “Then we’ll have to think of something else.”
“Like what?”
He tried to shrug his shoulders, but inside the spacesuit it was impossible. “I wish I knew,” he admitted.
CHAPTER 6
I’m becoming dependant on this woman, Humphries thought, watching Diane Verwoerd as they rode down the moving stairs toward his mansion, in Selene’s bottommost level.
She was coolly reading out the daily list of action items from her handheld palmcomp, ticking them off one by one, asking him to okay the staff assignments she had already made to handle each item.
Humphries rarely left his house. Instead, he had made it into a haven of luxury and security. Half the house was living quarters, the other side given over to the scientists and technicians who maintained and studied the gardens that surrounded the mansion. Il had been a brilliant idea, Humphries thought, to talk Selene’s governing board into letting him create a three-hundred-hectare garden down in the deepest grotto in Selene. Officially, the house was the Humphries Trust Research Center that ran the ongoing ecological experiment: Can a balanced ecology be maintained on the Moon with minimal human intervention, given adequate light and water? Humphries didn’t care in the slightest what the answer was, so long as he could live in comfort in the midst of the flourishing garden, deep below the radiation and other dangers of the Moon’s surface.
He relished the knowledge that he had fooled them all, even Douglas Stavenger, Selene’s founder and youthful eminence grise. He had even talked them into rescinding their foolish decision toe exile him from Selene after his part in Dan Randolph’s death had become known. But he hadn’t fooled the tall, exotic, silky Diane Verwoerd, he knew. She saw right through him.
He had invited her to lunch at the new bistro just opened in the Grand Plaza. She had turned down his earlier offers of dinner, but a “working lunch” outside the house was something she could not easily refuse. So he had taken her to lunch. And she had worked right through the salad and soy cutlets, barely taking a sip of the wine he ordered, refusing dessert altogether.
And now, as they rode on the powered stairs back to his office/home, she held her palmcomp before her and rattled off problems facing the company and her solutions for them.
She’s become almost indispensable to me, he realized. Maybe that’s her game, to become so important to me businesswise that I’ll stop thinking of her as a hotbody. She must know that I don’t keep a woman around for long once I’ve had her in bed.
He grinned inwardly. You’re playing a tricky game, Ms. Verwoerd. And, so far, you’ve played it just about perfectly.
So far.
Humphries refused to admit defeat, although it was obvious that this luncheon idea had been no victory. He listened to her long recitation with only half his attention, thinking, I’ll get you sooner or later, Diane. I can wait.
But not much longer, another voice in his head spoke up. No woman is worth waiting for this long.
Wrong, he answered silently. Amanda is.
As they neared the bottom of the last flight of moving stairs, she said something that abruptly caught his full attention.
“And Pancho Lane flew all the way out to Ceres last week. She’s on her way back now.”
“To Ceres?” Humphries snapped. “What’s she doing out there?”
“Talking to her business associates, Mr. and Mrs. Fuchs,” Verwoerd replied calmly. “About undercutting our prices, I imagine.”
“Undercutting me?”
“What else? If they
“Helvetia Ltd.,” Humphries muttered. “Silly name for a company.”
“It’s really a front for Astro, you know.”
He looked around the smooth walls of the escalator well without replying. At this deep level beneath Selene, no one else was riding down. There was no sound except the muted hum of the electric motor powering the stairs.
“Pancho’s using Fuchs and his company to make it much tougher for you to take control of Astro. The more business she does through Helvetia, the more the Astro board sees her as a real hero. They might even elect Pancho chairman when O’Banian steps down.”
“Drive me out of the Belt,” Humphries growled.
“That’s what we’re trying to do to them, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“We’d better do it, then, before they do it to us,” said Diane Verwoerd.
Humphries nodded again, knowing she was right.
“What we need, then,” she said slowly, “is a plan of action. A program aimed at crushing Helvetia once and for all.”
He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they’d finished lunch. She’s thought this whole thing through, he realized. She’s leading me around by the nose, by god. Humphries saw it in her almond eyes. She has this all figured out. She knows exactly where she wants to lead me.
“So what do you suggest?” he asked, really curious about where she was heading.
“I suggest a two-pronged strategy.”
“A two-pronged strategy?” he asked dryly.
“It’s an old technique,” Verwoerd said, smiling slyly. “The carrot and the stick.”
Despite his efforts to remain noncommittal, Humphries smiled. “Tell me about it,” he said as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped off.
Once he got back to his office, Humphries cleared his calendar and leaned back in his chair, thinking, worrying, planning. All thoughts of Diane left his conscious mind; he pictured Amanda out there with Fuchs. Amanda wouldn’t try to hurt me, he told himself. But
Diane is right. We’ve got to move, and move fast. Carrot and stick.
Abruptly, he sat up straight and ordered the phone to summon his chief of security. The man rapped softly at
