by John Ringo
The two very large waiters were less so. They looked as if they were suckled on asteroids.
"Great," Wathaet said, taking another small bite. "Truly wonderful."
"Well, when one is rich one can afford good chefs," Gorku said. "And proper ingredients. The blag has to be very fresh. I had a ship bring it in just this morning. The reason for the query is that you don't seem to be enjoying it. Haven't eaten much. I assure you I do not regularly descend to cannibalism and both the servers are quite gentle for Rangora."
"No problem at all, sir," Wathaet said, trying to take a larger bite. No chance. All four stomachs were rejecting input.
"I am, of course, interested in the Dragon's Tears," Gorku said, taking a sip of same. "Lovely stuff. I assume you bought it on Earth."
"Yes, sir," Wathaet said, summoning just enough courage to defend never having to summon courage again. "And the Terran we bought it from has a binding contract with us!"
"Five percent of all Dragon's Tears subsequently sold by him to any Glatun or Glatun corporation," Gorku said. "Would you like to hear the seven ways that I came up with to get around such a contract? That was before my AIs became involved."
"No, sir," Wathaet said, his shoulders slumping.
"Dear, dear Captain Wathaet," Gorku said, bobbing his head. "I am not trying to steal your discovery. The same, however, cannot be said of my competitors. I am, rather, interested in Terra. Of course, I am interested in many things, you understand. But Terra is one of those. It has such potential and, of course, is quite close to Glalkod. Now that there is, in fact, something of worth to trade the potentialities increase. I simply wish to ensure that my companies are part of that potential. You understand?"
Most of that potential, Wathaet thought to himself.
"Yes, sir."
"What are your near term arrangements?" Gorku asked. "In regards to further shipments of Dragon's Tears. Not what you plan on doing tomorrow with your money. I was a spaceman myself once."
"I'm to meet with my contact on earth at a remote location on two-thirty-eight at ten-forty," Wathaet said, trying not to sigh. "He's to have most of a hold's worth of Dragon's Tears."
"Do you know how much of his world's supply that represents?" Gorku said. "We have identified it as a plant product, probably a sap. A sap of what is the great question. There are over nine dozen saps that are used for foods or industrial products on the planet."
"I do not, sir," Wathaet said. "I will say that he asked me to involve people . . . such as you in trade, sir. He wants our 'big boys' as he said involved so they might get the government to intervene with the Horvath."
"Over Dragon's Tears as a product, unlikely," Gorku said, musingly. "But he's apparently fairly smart. More likely if corporations are involved than, pardon, a small free trader. Although you will get wealthy quickly you don't have the established contacts, the methods . . . Hmmm." Gorku wrinkled his snout in thought.
"If he's that smart, he's also not going to want to trade with a single corporation," the financier said. "And he'll want more than trash atacirc."
"I think he wants to trade for credits and buy atacirc here on Glalkod," Wathaet said.
"Not impossible to arrange," Gorku said. "If we have regular trade with earth, going around the Horvath of course, then establishing a commercial hypernode is a necessity. Very well. Meet with your . . . contact. Make him aware that you have contacted corporations. When you return we will have arrangements completed to establish regular trade. And as contracted, you get five percent."
"Thank you, sir," Wathaet said.
"Less fees, of course," Gorku said with another wrinkle of his nose. "And the government will quickly designate it as a luxury good which means higher taxes. But I think we will all make more than a bit of profit and that is to the good is it not?"
Four
"Mr. Vernon," Mr. Haselbauer said, folding himself into the seat across from Tyler.
"Mr. Haselbauer," Tyler said, trying not to seem nervous.
"Weather's coming on fine, don't you think?" the farmer said as the waitress scurried up. "Adele, I could do with a cup of your fine coffee if you please. And just a touch of maple syrup."
"It's getting hard to find, Mr. Haselbauer," the waitress said, dimpling. "But I got some in the back just for you."
"The weather is indeed coming on fine," Tyler said, scratching his head at the notes on the pad.
One of the things he liked about Anna's was that there weren't any cameras in the restaurant. So the Horvath, even if they'd noticed changes in one Tyler Vernon, couldn't look over his shoulder at the notes he was making.
The problem was, trucks were tracked. Just about every tractor trailer in the US had a tracker on it. And while the Horvath might not notice two trucks going to an open field in the middle of the night, might didn't really cut it. He somehow had to get two trucks loaded, quietly, discreetly, then to the pick-up point without any possibility of the Horvath noticing.
Then there was the product. He'd found it surprisingly hard to find two tractor trailer loads of barrels of maple syrup. Much of the production was small farms and distilleries. The few large distilleries sent most of their product out to distributors who then held it, in individual sized packages, and doled it out through the year. That Mr. Haselbauer had had six barrels was luck as much as anything.
It was driving him nuts.
"Strange doings in the area, though," Mr. Haselbauer said as Adele brought him his coffee. "Lots of land trading hands especially given that things are a bit hard off at the moment. Didn't think that fine old lady Mrs. Cranshaw would ever sell her land. And she didn't get near much for it, neither."
Tyler tried not to chuckle. Turned out that most forensic departments, even going quite a few decades back, tended to store 'questionable' samples from remains. And it was amazing what modern forensic systems could tease out of samples from the fifties. Natural causes my butt.
"And you aren't working near as much as you used to just a bit agone," Mr. Haselbauer said.
"I've found some additional sources of income, Mr. Haselbauer," Tyler said.
"Found a few in my time as well, young man," Mr. Haselbauer said. "Known a few friends as did as well. Some of them thought they could just stop workin', found such good additional sources as they say. Thing about Revenuers, they look for such things. Know a few friends didn't think on that. Don't get to talk much and I do sore miss the company. But Concord's a long drive."
Tyler looked up into blue eyes as innocent as a child.
"There are Revenuers and Revenuers, Mr. Haselbauer," Tyler said, cautiously. "Some as have people running about the hills looking for additional sources of income. Some as think they can look for them from above. Waaay above."
"Them Revenuers?" Haselbauer said, tilting back his John Deere cap.
"Could be, Mr. Haselbauer," Tyler said, shrugging. "Because we are friends and have been for some time, I shall give you my own piece of advice if you will take it from a young man such as me. There may come some men from the city asking you what you would take for your maple trees and distillery."
"Have been," Haselbauer said.
"Don't. Sell. And tell such as you may find appropriate the same, Mr. Haselbauer. I'd have all such as you holding maple come spring. You will not believe what maple is about to be worth. Of course, this may involve some problems from . . . Revenuers."
"Them as you mentioned?" Haselbauer said.
"Them as I mentioned, Mr. Haselbauer," Tyler replied. "May be some great trouble from them."
"They don't take part," the farmer said, musingly. "They'll be wanting all."
"Touch hard, that," Tyler said. "Touch hard getting all if the right people are holding."
"Hard in two ways young man," the old man said. "Very hard."
"Yes, sir," Tyler said. "Very hard. Hard as granite. This may seem a touch uppity, Mr. Haselbauer, coming from a newcomer such as I. But have you read your license plate lately?"
"Hm
mm . . ." Haselbauer said. "This might be the most interesting winter since '56."
"Fifty-six?" Tyler said.
"Don't make the history books," Haselbauer said, smiling in fond remembrance. "But there's some places up to the hollers do you dig down a bit you might find whole cars. Still occupied. Don't care for Revenuers not a bit. Shall be making some calls."
"Discreet calls," Tyler said, desperately.
"Young man," Haselbauer said, sternly. "You are quite a smart young feller and for being a damned Rebel born you are a decent young man. Hard worker for a Reb. But when it comes to dealing with Revenuers you shall accept that I am neither stupid nor senile."
"Yes, Mr. Haselbauer. I apologize." Tyler paused and thought for a moment then sighed. The old man was about to grab his cojones and squeeze, he just knew it. But experience was where you found it. "About them Revenuers, Mr. Haselbauer . . ."
"Wathaet," Tyler said as the captain came down the cargo ramp. At least he was pretty sure it was Wathaet. He was dressed differently and his Mohawk like hair was cut differently.
"My good friend Tyler," Wathaet said, waving. "I hope that these friends of yours are very closed mouth. We have the Horvath thinking we're still in Boston at the moment but they are listening."
"Don't talk much," Mr. Haselbauer said, coming up out of the darkness.
"Captain Wathaet," Tyler said. "This is Mr. Haselbauer. Few of his friends are driving the trucks. We need to get started unloading."
"Fabet! Grab the lift," Wathaet said, stepping off the pad then looking up at Haselbauer. "You're nearly the size of a Rangora."
"Bigger," Mr. Haselbauer said. Fabet squeaked from the darkness then Tom Haselbauer, who was simply a younger version of his grandfather, came by dragging the grav-lift loaded with three pallets of maple syrup.
"He couldn't hardly pull it," Tom said. "Where you want it? And how do you get this thing to lift higher?"
"Is all well?" Wathaet asked, nervously.
"Very well," Tyler said. "Mr. Haselbauer has me feeling very screwed but other than that it's great."
"Twenty percent is cheap," Mr. Haselbauer said. "I should have charged you more."
"Did you talk to your big boys?" Tyler asked.
"I didn't have to ask," Wathaet said. "I was more or less told they were taking over. But we get our cut. They want to meet."
"I guess that same warehouse you were at in Boston would do," Tyler said. "We'll make all this stuff official then."
"What about the Horvath?" Wathaet asked.
"When the corporate reps arrive I'll explain why trying to steal this from us will work . . . poorly if at all," Tyler said.
"Don't give naught to Revenuers can I avoid it," Mr. Haselbauer said. "So they got cannon and machine guns and, I guess, rocks from up there? Don't give naught. Don't care for them a bit. And they'll be hard done getting this . . . Dragon's Tears is it?"
"I've managed to get pretty close to a monopoly on all held stocks," Tyler said. "That's what I'll be trading for. There's about as much as can fill four ships your size. There won't be any more until next spring. So the Horvath won't have anything to take. And taking it will be . . . hard even then. Getting it is hard and the people that collect it . . . don't respond well to threats. That's what I'll tell your corporate people. What they then do about that is up to them. But if the Horvath think we're just going to cough it up . . . They're wrong."
"They'll bomb your cities if you don't," Wathaet pointed out.
"Don't care for cities, neither," Mr. Haselbauer said. "Where do you think Revenuers come from?"
"We are encountering some resistance to sale of lands, Mr. Vernon," Lyle said. He still had a very satisfied look. The charges for arranging the transactions had been . . . astronomical.
"Good," Tyler said. "Then stop the purchases. I think we went in fast enough that most of the land and distilleries didn't get run up in cost that much. And anyone who is holding out for what we've been offering it's because they like what they're doing. I'd like you to arrange a discreet surveillance of Mrs. Cranshaw, by the way. When she realizes what happened to her I'm going to have one very nasty and devious old lady with, apparently, access to exotic poisons, after my butt."
"Yes, sir," Lyle said, making a note.
"If worse comes to worse we can slide the information your consultants found to an ME and let things take their course," Tyler said. "So what percentage of the total crop do I have?"
"About sixty percent of land currently in maple sugar production," Lyle said. "In addition there is land currently in white pine and other timber farms which comprises an additional twenty percent of the total land area where sugar maple is harvestable. This comprises . . . well, a goodly bit of Maine, Vermont, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and the rural areas of Ontario. It is, I checked, the largest land purchases in recent history. I am still, obviously, curious as to your obsession with maple sugar. Not to mention where the money came from. Frankly, it's too much to be absolutely illegal and given the companies who wrote the checks . . ."
"I think all will be clear soon," Tyler said. He'd blown through pretty much all of the money from the deal with Wathaet but he now had a shipload of atacirc. Well, eighty percent of a shipload, damnit. "But that's about right. I don't want to own all the maple sugar in the world. Monopolies just don't work well. But if things become . . . difficult and people want to sell because of the difficulties, be ready to start buying again. Now, to the next step. No, I've got a better way to do that . . ."
Tyler stopped on the sidewalk outside the attorney's office and extended one arm up and the other down. The one extended up he circled about his head while pointing to the ground with the other.
"Come on, figure it out," he said, looking around.
Before long a man in a slightly ill-fitting suit got out of a late-model sedan and walked over.
"Looking for us?" the man asked.
"Took you long enough," Tyler said. "In a few days, exactly when isn't quite clear, some Gratun will be visiting. They'll be planning on occupying the same warehouse in Reading as the Spinward Crossing. I'd appreciate you guys setting up a secure room somewhere nearby. Then we can finally get to real negotiations."
"And the Horvath?" the man asked.
"These guys the Horvath are definitely not going to want to touch," Tyler said. "Except for the initial exploratory ship everyone we've been dealing with is bottom rung. Even their governmental people. These guys aren't going to be Donald Trump but they report to corporations and they're here for our maple syrup. All large stocks of which I've managed to lock up. They'll then have all winter to figure out if they want to confront the Horvath over maple syrup. Because, believe you me, the people that collect the stuff are not about to let the Horvath take more than a tithe of it."
"And if they nuke Boston and Washington?" the agent asked, sarcastically.
"I'll do my best to avoid that," Tyler said.
"How?"
"I'm from the South. We have our little ways."
"What about Atlanta?"
"Okay. So sometimes they don't work."
"Gate emergence."
"What do we have now?" The colonel on duty leaned over and contemplated the screen.
"Looks to be one large ship," the sergeant said. "Tentative ID is a freighter. No visible weapons. Four more ships, small freighters maybe? Not a class we've seen."
"Those are the visitors we were told to expect," the colonel said. "I hope."
"Sir?" the tech said. "What visitors?"
"Close held."
"Gentle beings," Tyler said, breezing into the conference room. "I hope you have been well treated. We don't have much in the way of Glatun food products but there's Dragon's Tears."
"Thank you," one of the Glatun said. "We have managed to refrain."
"Oh, dear," Tyler said, waving to the people with him. "Gentle Glatun, Robert Lyle, my attorney of fact for this negotiation, Ms. Cody Castilla with our Treasury Department and Mr. Jason Has
elbauer who is representing a significant fraction of the remaining holdings of Dragon's Tears which I have not managed to procure. And you are?"
"Karorird Ongl, Onderil Banking."
"Canarorird Hetuncha, Gorku Corp."
"Lathmal Indendu, Hurin Corporation."
"Rolaut Orth, Limaror Corporation."
"We need nametags or something. First as to Dragon's Tears. The material is in fact maple sugar syrup. Please feel free to access relevant information on our network."
