After several minutes I began to see that his authority was to say no and that his major talent lay in saying no in so many pleasant, friendly words that the client hardly realized that she was being turned down.
First, please understand, Miss Baldwin, that California MasterCard and Chicago Imperium MasterCard are separate corporations and that you do not have a contract with us. To our regret. True, as a matter of courtesy and reciprocity we ordinarily honor credit cards issued by them and they honor ours. But he was truly sorry to say that at the moment-he wanted to emphasize "at the moment"- the Imperium had cut off communication and, strange as it seems, there was not today even an established rate of exchange between bnuins and crowns... so how can we possibly honor a credit card from the Imperium even though we want to and will gladly do so
later. But we do want to make your stay with us happy and what can we do for you toward that end?
I asked when he thought the emergency would be over.
Mr. Chambers looked blank. "Emergency? What emergency, Miss Baldwin? Perhaps there is one in the Imperium since they have seen fit to close their borders... but certainly not here! Look around you-did you ever see a country so glowing with peace and prosperity?"
I agreed with him and stood up, as there seemed no point in arguing. "Thank you, Mr. Chambers. You have been most gracious."
"My pleasure, Miss Baldwin. MasterCard service. And don't forget: Anything I can do for you, anything at all, I am at your service."
"Thank you, I'll remember. Uh, is there a public terminal somewhere in this building? I bought a lottery ticket earlier today and it turns out that the drawing is almost at once."
He grinned broadly. "My dear Miss Baldwin, I'm so happy that you asked! Right on this floor we have a large conference room and
every Friday afternoon just before the drawing everything stops and our entire office staff-or at least those who hold tickets; attendance is not compulsory-all of us crowd in and watch the drawing. J.B.-that's our president and chief executive-old J.B. decided that it was better to do it that way than to have the punters sneaking away to washrooms and toke shops and pretending they weren't. Better for morale. When one of our people wins one-does happen-she on he gets a fancy cake with sparklers on it, just like a birthday, a gift from old J.B. himself. He comes out and has a piece with the lucky winner."
"Sounds like a happy ship."
"Oh, it is! This is one financial institution where computer crime is unheard of, they all love old J.B." He glanced at his finger. "Let's get on into the conference room."
Mr. Chambers saw to it that we were placed in VIP seats, fetched coffee to us himself, then decided to sit down and watch the drawing.
The terminal screen occupied most of the end wall of the room. We sat through an hour of minor prizes during which the master of ceremonies exchanged utterly sidesplitting jokes with his assistant, mostly about the physical charms of the girl who picked the slips out of the tumble bowl. She clearly had been picked for those physical charms, which were considerable-that and her willingness to wear a costume that not only displayed them but also assured the audience that she was not hiding anything. Each time she plunged in an arm and drew out a lucky number she was dressed principally in a blindfold. It looked like easy pleasant work if the studio was properly heated.
Halfway through there were loud squeals from up front; a MasterCard clerk had won a thousand bruins. Chambers grinned broadly. "Doesn't happen often but when it does, it cheers everyone up for days. Shall we go? No, you still have a ticket that might win, don't you? Unlikely as it is that lightning will strike here twice."
At last with a blare of trumpets we reached the week's grand prize-the "Giant, Supreme, All-California Super Prize!!!" The girl with the goose bumps drew two honorary prizes first, a year's supply of Ukiah Gold with hash pipe, and dinner with the great sensie star Bobby "The Brute" Pizarro.
"Georges," I said. "American Express." Then she drew the last lucky ticket; the master of ceremonies read off the numbers and they appeared in blazing light above his head. "Mr. Zee!" he shouted. "Has the owner registered thi~ number?"
"One moment- No, not registered."
"We have a Cinderella! We have an unknown winner! Somewhere in our great and wonderful Confederacy someone is two hundred thousand bruins richer! Is that child of fortune listening now? Will she-or he-call in and let us put her on the air before this program ends? Or will he wake up tomorrow morning to be told that she is rich? There is the number, folks! It will shine up there until the end of this program, then it will be repeated every news break until fortune's darling claims her prize. And now a message-"
"Friday," Georges whispered, "let me see your ticket."
"Not necessary, Georges," I whispered back. "That's it, all right."
Mr. Chambers stood up. "Show's over. Nice that one of our little family won something. Been a pleasure to have you with us, Miss Baldwin and Mr. Karo-and don't hesitate to call on me if we can help you."
"Mr. Chambers," I asked, "can MasterCard collect this for me? I don't want to do it in person."
Mr. Chambers is a nice man but a touch slow. He had to compare the numbers on my lottery ticket with the numbers still shining on the screen three times before he could believe it. Then Georges had to stop him when he was about to run in all directions, to order a photographer, call National Lottery headquarters, send for a holovision crew-and just as well that Georges stopped him because I might have been rough about it. I get annoyed by big males who won't listen to my objections.
"Mr. Chambers!" Georges said. "Didn't you hear her? She does not want to do it in person. No publicity."
"What? But the winners are always in the news; that's routine! This won't take a moment if that's what's worrying you because- you remember the girl who won earlier?-about now she is being photographed with J. B. and her cake. Let's go straight to his office and-"
Georges is not slow-and I wouldn't mind marrying him if Janet ever turned him loose. "Mr. Chambers," he said quickly, "what is the address of the San Jose main office of American Express?"
Chambers' four-winds flight stopped abruptly. "What did you say?"
"Can you tell us the address of American Express? Miss Baldwin will take her winning ticket there for collection. I will call ahead and make sure that they understand that banking privacy is a requisite.
"But you can't do that. She won it here."
"We can and we will. She did not win it here. She simply happened to be here when the drawing took place elsewhere. Please stand aside; we're leaving."
Then we had to do it all over again for J.B. He was a dignified old duck with a cigar in one side of his mouth and sticky white cake icing on his upper lip. He was neither slow nor stupid but he was in the habit of seeing his wishes carried out and Georges had to mention American Express quite loudly before he got it through his skull that I would not hold still for any publicity whatever (Boss would faint!) and that we were about to go to those Rialto moneychangers rather than deal with his firm.
"But Miss Bulgrin is a MasterCard client."
"No," I disagreed. "I had thought that I was a MasterCard client but Mr. Chambers refused to honor my credit. So I'll start an account with American Express. Without photographers."
"Chambers." There was the knell of doom in his voice. "What Is This?"
Chambers explained that my credit card had been issued through the Imperial Bank of Saint Louis.