Baldwin Dowling was shown into Juggins' office. The Centaurian looked much the same, except that his hair was turning prematurely gray.
"Hello, Juggins," said Dowling. Then he sniffed. He sniffed again. There was an unmistakable smell of tobacco-smoke.
Dowling looked accusingly at Juggins. Juggins looked back, at first blankly, then uncomfortably. "What is it?" he barked.
Dowling grinned easily. "Don't worry, Juggins. I won't—"
"You will kindly mind your own business!"
"What are you sore about? I didn't say anything. And I have every intention of minding my own business. That's what I came here about." He explained about the stock exchange proposed by Hsi. He put the most favorable interpretation on it. But Juggins was not fooled.
Juggins thoughtfully studied the ornate penholder that marred the Spartan simplicity of his office. He said: "Your plan may be sound. But if my superiors heard of it, they might take a—an excessively rigid view." Silence. "I try to be fair. Haven't I always been fair with the Philadelphians?"
"Of course, Juggins. And it's about time we showed our gratitude, don't you think?"
"Of course we Ccntaurians aren't swayed by material considerations."
"Sure. Utterly incorruptible. But it would make me happy if I could show my appreciation. I'm not one of you selfless supermen, you know."
"What had you in mind?"
Dowling told him. Juggins took a deep breath, pursed his lips, and nodded somberly. He kept his eyes on the penholder.
"By the way," said Dowling, "now that that's settled, there's another little favor you might do for me. I believe one of the people you captured in the recent uprising was an old classmate named Frederick Merrian."
"What about him?"
"What are the Centaurians' plans for disposing of the rebels?"
"The leaders will be shot, and the others blinded. I don't think your Merrian was a leader; I'd recognize his name if he were."
"For old times' sake, I wondered if you couldn't do something for Merrian."
"Is he an intimate friend of yours?" Juggins looked at Dowling keenly.
"No; I've seen him only occasionally since we finished college. He means well, but he goes off on crazy tangents."
"I don't know what I could do. I couldn't have him turned loose."
"You don't have to. Put in a death certificate for him. Say he died of natural causes. Then substitute for him one of the regular prisoners in the Lancaster prison farm. They're dying all the time anyway."
"I'll see."
When Dowling picked up Arthur Hsi, his grin answered the Transport Director's question before it was asked.
"I offered him a hundred thousand, and he took it without argument."
Hsi whistled. "I was authorized to pay ten times that much! Our Bozo doesn't know own value yet."
"Maybe it's the first real bribe he's taken."
"Really? Well, we don't put him wise to what he could have got, eh? He'll learn soon enough."
Fred Merrian shambled into the visitors' room, looking beaten but brightened a bit at the sight of Dowling, Hsi, and Dr. Lechon.
He sat down, then looked puzzled. "How come the guard went out? They don't do that ordinarily."
Dowling grinned. "He's not supposed to hear what we've got to say." He explained the plan for shifting Merrian to the Lancaster farm under a new name.
"Then—then I'm going to keep my eyes? Oh—"
"Now, now, don't break down, Fred."
They got the overwrought writer calmed. He said: "I still don't understand why the uprising failed. You have no idea how careful we were. We thought of everything."
Dowling said: "Guess you just didn't have the stuff. As long as the Bozos have a large and well-armed corps of watchdogs—" He shrugged.
"You mean it's hopeless?"
"Uh—huh. Knowing you, Fred, I know you'll find that a hard thing to reconcile yourself to."
"I'll never be reconciled to it. There must be something"
"I'm afraid not."
"I am not too sure," said Lechon. "Armed uprising, no. With the complicated weapons used nowadays, civilians can do little. It is like trying to stop a—a buzz-saw with your bare hands. But there are other possibilities."
"What?" asked the three younger men together.
"Read your history, gentlemen. Read your history." And that was all they could get out of him.
"I'm not worrying," said Juggins. "We can trust each other." He leaned back in his chair and sucked on a cigar. He coughed a bit, and said: "Damn, I keep forgetting that one doesn't inhale these things." He had taken to the American fashion of men's earrings.
Dowling smiled. "You mean, we'll have to."
"You might put it that way, yes. What's the proposal this time?"
Arthur Hsi explained: "You know the Atlantic City project Sino-American is trying to promote? Our subsidiary is all ready to set up."
"Yes."
"Well, first, there's a Society for Preservation of Ancient Monuments objecting. Say if we modernize Atlantic City we'll ruin it. Say Hotel Traymore has been there three hundred years and it would be sacrilege to tear it down."
Juggins waved his cigar. "I can shoot a few of this Society. That'll shut them up."
"Oh, no," said Hsi, shocked. "Cause all kinds of trouble. People would boycott the project."
"Well, what do you want me to do then?"
"If you could have some of these old ruins moved, as a government project—"
"Hmm. That would cost money."
"Perhaps my company could see its way to sharing the expense."
Juggins still frowned. "My superior, the Centaurian MacWhirtle, would have to approve. I think he's suspicious of me."
Dowling broke in: "Is MacWhirtle married?"
"Yes, but his wife's back in Australia. Why?"
"I just had an idea. Go on, Arthur."
Hsi continued: "Then there's matter of financing improvement company. We thought we could have it issue some common stock, some non-cumulative preferred. Sino-American could buy most of former; public latter. You and MacWhirtle would have a chance at former also, before it was put on market."
Juggins frowned again. "I seem to remember some rule against non-cumulative preferred. Though I never knew why."
Hsi explained: "This wouldn't be called non-cumulative; some fancy name, but would mean same thing. You sell so much non-cumulative to public, mid hold common. Then year comes along, you tell preferred stockholders, conditions are very bad, can't pay any dividends at all, on common or preferred. Then next year you say conditions are better. You pay preferred stockholders their regular seven percent—for that year only. You pay yourself regular dividend on common, plus the common stock dividend you didn't pay previous year, plus seven percent preferred stock dividend you didn't pay previous year also. It's wonderful."
"I see," said Juggins. "I see why there's a rule against it. But I suppose that sort of thing is necessary in modern finance."
"Oh, absolutely," said Dowling.
"I try to be fair," said Juggins. "Some of my fellow-Centaurians lean over backward. I think they do more harm than good."
"Sure," said Dowling. "And do you suppose we could meet MacWhirtle? Socially, I mean."
Dowling dialled his wrist-phone. "Helen? This is Baldwin ...Yep, the old political wizard himself. Doing anything next week-end? ... No, no. It's a party ... In New York ... Uh—huh, got a Bozo for you to waggle your alabaster torso at ...Yep, a very big shot indeed. It's all very discreet, understand ... No, no, I will not! I've told you I'm very well satisfied with the woman I have. Love her, in fact. This is business. Right. See you Saturday."