rim she said, 'You're smart, Earl. Maybe too damned smart. Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm a fool.'
'Like Toibin?' Dumarest met her eyes. 'Or does he think you a coward? A woman who hasn't the guts to want revenge?'
Sunken in his chair Sung Pember looked half-asleep; an old man taking his rest, barely aware of what was going on around him. Casually he touched his nose.
'Five.' Catching the signal the auctioneer voiced the bid. 'I have five. Who offers six? I must ask you not to waste time. Who offers six?'
Reluctantly a man touched his ear.
The ring at work, bidding slow, bidding low and keeping down prices. Cameron had seen it too often before and fumed with inward rage at the prospect of seeing it again.
'Six. I have six. Who offers seven? The lot is five vats of rare perfume in high demand on a host of worlds. Who offers seven?'
Zinny Monteil lifted a finger.
'I have seven. I'm looking for eight. Who will offer eight?' An empty plea and the auctioneer knew it. Another victory for the ring. The lot would be almost given away but those who had won it were eager for their reward, meager though it would be. 'The bid is seven. I have seven. Seven once. Seven twice.' He lifted his gavel. 'Sev -'
'Eight!' called Dumarest.
He sat to the rear, back to the wall, his voice deliberately loud, sending echoes through the warehouse in which the auction was being held. At his side Zehava drew in her breath.
'Careful, Earl. You could get stuck.' She sighed her relief as someone raised the bid, frowned as Dumarest topped it. 'Ten thousand! Do you know what happens to those who can't pay?'
'I know what I'm doing.' Dumarest nodded, smiling, as Molo Bain twisted in his seats to stare at him. 'The ring will buy or I'll split the lot among the independents. It's a safe gamble.'
One he pursued as the bids mounted, raising his voice, making himself known to the auctioneer, the assistants, others in the warehouse. At twenty thousand he withdrew from the bidding but others, stimulated by the contest, ran the final price up another three.
Zehava said, 'I' in going, Earl. This kind of excitement I can do without. Just remember the penalty if you buy what you can't pay for.'
Stripped, flayed, impaled on a stake; Kaldar was not kind to outsiders who broke the rules. Dumarest took no further part in the bidding, once had been enough for his purpose. Only when a familiar carton was lifted on the display platform did he lean forward.
'Lot thirty-two. Two hundred units including the one on display.' Cameron waited as assistants opened the carton and erected what it contained. Light glowed from the petals forming a mirror, creating a shimmering haze of rainbow brilliance. 'A product of the Matsuki-Taru. Solar power units worth a fortune on any harsh world. The bidding will be in steps of five thousand. We start at thirty.'
Low but a flurry of early bids would stimulate the sale and small units were more tempting than large. As the bidding commenced Dumarest rose, seated himself behind Sung Pember, leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
'Everything arranged?'
Pember nodded. 'We'll get them dirt cheap.'
'Don't be too greedy. Remember where you are.'
'They need us.'
'They need money,' corrected Dumarest. 'There are a dozen other dealers eager to take your place. Just remember how they got this stuff.'
'Seventy,' said Cameron. 'And five. And five. Eighty thousand. Eighty. Eighty-five. Ninety. I have ninety.' He frowned as the bidding slowed. It was too soon, the lot too valuable and he sensed the influence of the ring. 'I have ninety thousand. And five.' He caught the signal from a woman seated to one side. One topped by Molo Bain. 'One hundred thousand.' He glanced at the woman who could have been fronting for a rival group but she made no sign. 'And five.' Cameron invented a bid. 'I have one hundred and five thousand.'
Time slowed as he waited for a response. His action had been calculated but he was facing experts in their field who knew all the tricks. Again he felt the stir of anger. Those facing him were parasites feeding on the efforts of their betters. Those who had risked death and injury to obtain what they held in so low regard. If they wouldn't bid then he would take.
'I have one hundred and five. I am waiting for your bids.' He lifted his gavel then, deliberately put it down. 'I'll give you time to remember what is on offer. Goods worth far in excess of what has been bid. A lot holding the potential of vast profit. I open the bidding for the last time.'
Dumarest said, 'Is he talking of a reserve?'
'No.' Pember's voice held a dry amusement. 'He made a false bid to up the amount. Now he's stuck with it. Let him sweat for a while.'
'Let him sweat too long and you could wind up on a stake.' Dumarest recognized the obvious anger. 'He's of the Kaldari. Think he'll be gentle? Bid, damn you! Now!'
Before rage overtook the auctioneer and he threw aside civilized restraint. Bids were mostly by signal and he could swear such signals had been made, running up an enormous sum, forcing a hapless victim to pay or face the penalty.
Quickly Pember touched his nose.
'One ten.' Cameron relaxed. 'I have one hundred and ten thousand. It isn't enough. Unless there is realistic appreciation of what is on offer I shall cancel the auction.'
Montiel said, 'I protest! You can't do that!'
'Are you telling me what I can't do?' Raw anger edged the auctioneer's voice. 'Do you think you have the right to rob the Kaldari?'
'Of course not! But traditions should be kept. We have an understanding and-'
'No one is robbing you.' Dumarest rose to his feet and moved towards the platform. A man who had demonstrated he was not of the ring. 'The bidding is fair for the product offered. Look.' He touched the unit on display, opening a panel to show the empty interior. 'It's incomplete,' he explained. 'It lacks a vital component. They all do. Without them the units are valueless.'
At times it seemed the walls were closing in to crush her as if she had been an insect caught between a finger and a thumb. Then she would leave the office to walk in the open air but even then there were restraints. The hills, the buildings, even the bowl of the sky were components of the prison which held her. Symbols of earlier times when, always, there had been those to tell her what to do, how to act, how to think, how to live the life which should have been hers.
Only work provided an anodyne and even that was not always efficacious.
Nadine sighed, leaning back in her chair, palming her eyes. In the darkness she could see Pember's face, old, ugly in its anger as he complained of unfair treatment.
'I was cheated.' Rage made him offensive. 'The goods in lot thirty-two were rubbish.'
'They were offered as seen. The standard procedure. You know that.'
'I had no way of telling. The -'
'Didn't you call on the services of an engineer?'
'There was no need. We -I was given to understand the units were perfect.' His face darkened. 'Damn him!'
'Who?'
'Dumarest!'
'Then blame him, not us. You bought as seen. The lot is yours. The money is ours.'
Verified credit and he had left in a storm. As had Zehava Postel.
'Is this all?' She had stared incredulously at the figure on the slip handed her. A woman Nadine envied if she did not like. 'Are you sure?'
'You have the figures; cost of missiles fired, fuel, equipment used, other expenses.' Nadine tried to be patient. 'You have the sum gained from the sale of the loot. Set one against the other and you have the profit or loss. In your case a profit. You know the size of your share.'
