Suddenly the Knife's eyes widened.
Good, thought Dante. You've figured it out.
"Are you suggesting he wants us to take it over?" she said.
"He prefers to promote from within," said the poet. "Who knows the clientele and the routes better than you? Who can defend it better while he's occupied elsewhere?"
"Why doesn't he try to buy off the Candy Man?"
"Because it would be a demotion for the Candy Man, a step down no matter how you cut it. He couldn't help but be resentful, and a resentful partner isn't a loyal one. Santiago demands absolute loyalty from his partners." He paused while the words sank in. "But it wouldn't be a step down for you two. There'd be more money, more authority, more autonomy."
There was a moment of silence.
"What's he offering?" asked the Blade at last.
"Half—which is a hell of a lot more than you're making now," Dante pointed out. "I should add that we have a man who will audit you regularly. Santiago has no use for people who try to cheat him."
"Half?" repeated the Blade.
"Half," agreed Dante.
"Just for standing aside while Santiago kills the Candy Man?"
"He's going to want a little more than that as a token of your good faith," said Dante.
"Oh?" said the Knife suspiciously.
"He wants to know that you're fully committed to him and his organization," said Dante.
The Knife looked blank, but not the Blade. "Are you telling me he wants us to kill the Candy Man!"
"That's right."
"What's to stop us from killing the Candy Man and not splitting with anyone?" asked the Knife.
"You wouldn't live out the day," said Dante, amazed that he could lie with such absolute conviction. He leaned forward. "You're looking at it all wrong. Join him and you'll be millionaires within a Standard month, and you'll have the protection of Santiago's galaxy-wide organization if you should ever need it. As long as you're Santiago's partners, no outsider will ever be able to do to you what you're going to do to the Candy Man."
"What about insiders?" asked the Blade. "There will be people who already work for the Candy Man who may think they should be running things."
"This is a test of your leadership abilities," said Dante. "If you can take this organization over and run it successfully, Santiago will help you go on to bigger and better things."
The Blade picked up her screecher and tucked it back in her belt, then stood up.
"We have to discuss this. In private."
"I can wait outside for you," said Dante.
"That won't be necessary." She turned to her blonde companion. "Come on."
The Knife got up and followed her to the women's bathroom while Dante ordered a Cygnian cognac. He had just about finished it when they returned and sat down opposite him.
"All right," said the Blade. "It's a deal."
Dante looked at the Knife. "Yeah," she said, "it's a deal."
"Fine. I think you've made a wise decision. You'd gone as far as you could with the Candy Man. You'll advance much farther with Santiago."
"So now you'll tell Santiago we're in business?"
"No."
"No?" demanded the Blade.
"He'll know it when he hears that the Candy Man is dead," said Dante.
They finished the meal, and Dante returned to his hotel. The next morning the entire city was abuzz with the news that the Candy Man had been murdered.
Dante paid for his room, went to the spaceport, and was soon on his way to Valhalla. He contacted the Bandit en route and told him what had transpired.
"Amazing!" said the Bandit.
"What are you referring to, sir?"
"They actually believed you, without any proof to support what you said. You must be one hell of an accomplished liar."
"Well, I am a poet, sir," replied Dante.
22.
Jackrabbit Willowby, lightning fast,
Built an empire made to last;
Sold his soul for works of art—
Fast he was, but not too smart.
Jackrabbit Willowby had never actually seen a jackrabbit. In fact, he'd never been within 60,000 lightyears of Earth. But he knew that the jackrabbit was one of the very few animals that wasn't extinct more than three millennia after the dawn of the Galactic Era, and that it survived because of its fecundity. Willowby himself had 43 children from 36 mothers, all of which he neglected, and took his name from that prolific animal.
He didn't have an abundance of virtues. He was an agent of the Democracy, in charge of monitoring the black market in a 50- world sector than included Beta Cordero II. He was in charge of close to a thousand men spread across those worlds, ready to respond to his commands.
In most cases, those commands were exactly what the Democracy wanted—but in a few cases they were not. Willowby and a handful of carefully-chosen confederates were happy to look the other way for a consideration, which averaged some 25% of the black marketeer's take. They afforded the very best protection, and no one who dealt with them ever had cause to regret it. Similarly, those few that they approached who chose not to deal with them soon found themselves serving long jail terms or else were mourned by their friends.
Willowby developed a taste for expensive works of art, which led him to expand his operation, reaching more and more worlds, even those not officially under his control, finding new routes for contraband material, and protecting those routes with the full force of the Democracy. Before too many years had passed he was worth tens of millions of credits, and none of his employees had any cause for complaint. He understood the need to keep them all happy—and loyal—and while his crew was far from the most honest on the Inner Frontier, they were unquestionably the wealthiest and most contented.
He had only one rule: no one retired. He wanted his team to work in the shadow of the gallows until the day each of them died. He never wanted any to lose contact, or feel they could make their own deal with the Democracy and supply evidence against their confederates. You could get filthy rich working for Willowby, but that was the price you paid—there was no end to it. Most of his employees had no problem with that. The few that did didn't live long enough to cause any serious complications.
Dante had heard rumors about Willowby, and he knew it was just a matter of time before he showed up and made his pitch. The sudden death of the Candy Man could only hurry the day, and Dante was anxious for the meeting to take place.
"We don't want anything to do with him," said the Bandit when Dante brought up the subject. "He works for the Democracy. That makes him the enemy."
"True," answered the poet. "But this one has a ready-made organization that could bring in 50 times what we're going to make from the Candy Man's operation."