Man's Hope

by Zellmann, William

  "Do you ever read anything besides stock market reports and Dolf's speeches? Don't you know that you and the Man's Hope's crew are the most famous people on the planet? In Russia, you are heroes. You are using Russian technology to put man into deep space. You fool, you're more popular here than the President!"

  "Now, our President is not always wise, but he is very intelligent. I suspect he sees this as a way to get his name publicly associated with yours. If he could think of a way to get a picture of himself with you, he'd probably fly around the world, if necessary. I'd bet that if I dropped a hint in his ear, he'd be willing to pay to ship the booster to Alcântara. Hell, tell him you'll meet him there and he'd probably deliver it personally!

  "Frank, you'd better be paying more attention. People all over the world are begging for the chance to help with the Man's Hope project. From other billionaires to children that want to send their lunch money.

  "Hundreds of people have been arrested around the world for collecting money under false pretenses. Set up an "official" web site, and I'd bet you'll collect billions. Not investors, at least not most of them. Supporters! They won't demand shares; just the chance to know they were involved in the greatest space adventure of their generation.

  "Can't afford it? Hell, man, you can't afford NOT to afford it! Now, shut your damned mouth, and record a nice, public 'thank you' for the man in the Kremlin. Then get that VM-T of yours over to Baikonur. Immediately, if not sooner!"

  It took several minutes for Anton to convince Frank, but finally, he succeeded.

  "You mean they're not trying to get me anymore?" Frank sounded doubtful.

  "I didn't say that," Anton replied. "The stupid Americans still have those charges pending. But if I were you, I'd call my lawyer. That's what everyone does in America, isn't it? I'd bet the U.S. government would jump at the chance to dismiss those ridiculous charges at the first hint of one of those capitalist lawsuits you're all so fond of. Show them how to do it without looking stupid, and they'll probably run you for President."

  Frank paused. "Thanks, Anton. I'm going to do just that. I'll call you back."

  He called Fred Thomas, his lead attorney, this time using all four of his anonymous servers. He assumed Fred's phone would be tapped. He knew he'd have to keep it short.

  "Frank?" Fred said incredulously. "I thought you'd fallen off the planet!"

  Frank grinned. "I've tried. Fred, leave your office right now, and go buy a throwaway cell phone. Do it yourself. Buy plenty of minutes, and then use it to call this number in Moscow. It's Dr. Anton Ternayev's office number, and they'll be expecting your call. Give them the number of your throwaway. Then go to a restaurant or bar or some other public place. But watch for friendly strangers. I'll be calling you in a little over an hour."

  "Got it, Frank. Are you sure you can still afford my retainer?"

  Frank grinned. "If not, you can sue me for it. Anton says that's what we crazy capitalists do."

  "He's right. How do you think I can afford a wife and three girlfriends?"

  "Only three? You're slipping. I'll call you later."

  "Right, Frank," Fred said.

  He called Anton's office an hour later, and got the number of Fred's throwaway. He called it.

  "Okay, Frank. I'd ask what all this was about, but I already know. You want to come in from the cold."

  "Maybe," Frank replied. "But right now, it's still very cold out. Anton says I've been missing a lot, and he suspects the government would like to make all this go away."

  "He's right," said Fred. "Hell, man, you're a national hero. I think the CIA agent that brought you in would be fired the next day."

  "Well, I'm not about to risk it," Frank said.

  "Good idea," Fred said. "Hold on a moment."

  There was a pause of about thirty seconds, and then Fred was back. "Sorry," he said. "Somebody just had to have the stool next to mine. Okay, look. I've had feelers from the U.S. Attorney's office as well as the State Department. 'How can we get out of this' feelers."

  "It's their ball game," Frank said. "They threw out the first pitch."

  "Yeah," Fred replied. "Now they're looking for a way to forfeit without looking bad with the league. Hell. I'm running out of baseball metaphors. Let's just talk plain, all right?"

  Frank was grinning. "Works for me. What do they want?"

  "They want your word that you won't come after them with the highest of the high-powered lawyers, namely me. The States' Attorney will withdraw those bogus technology charges, and the UN Ambassador will ask the International Court to just let their case die. I dunno, Frank. You could pick up quite a few million in court, or even in a settlement. Especially now. You're everybody's golden boy."

  Frank shook his head, and then realized Fred couldn't see him. "I don't want their money, and I don't want to make them look bad, I just want out from under this, so I can get back to Brazil."

  "Brazil? Hey, you know, you're going to need the full-time services of a high-powered lawyer down there. It just so happens I know one that can be available."

  Frank grinned again. He liked Fred. "Don't tell me you managed to find a girl in Brasilia?"

  "Brasilia?" Fred replied. "No, no, you're definitely going to need to set up a branch office in Rio, where I can keep a close eye on your welfare."

  "Nice try, Fred," said Frank, "But no cigar. How can we stay in touch?"

  Fred paused before replying. "Give me two days, and then call me back on this number."

  Two days later, Frank called Fred. "Okay, Frank, here's the deal. The States' Attorney will publicly announce that their thorough investigation has revealed no violations of the technology transfer laws, and the charges are withdrawn, as are warrants for your arrest.

  "As usual, the State Department is cagier. They will ask the International Criminal Court to dismiss the charges, but not publicly. The UN arrest warrant will also be quietly withdrawn. In exchange, you agree not to file any lawsuits for any alleged improprieties of any government agency or representative, and not to file any criminal charges, either. I still think we could have cleaned up in a lawsuit."

  "I don't want to 'clean up' at the expense of my country, Fred. I just want them to leave me alone to fly spaceships."

  "I don't think they will be bothering you again. In fact, if NASA never hears the name 'Frank Weatherly' again, I think they'll be very happy. It won't help them, though. Even without any lawsuits or charges by you, NASA will be dodging bullets for a long time to come. Your man Dolf really started a forest fire."

  Frank was grinning widely. "So, how soon can I move back to Brazil?"

  Fred chuckled. "How long will it take you to get a visa? The 'back off' signal went out this morning. By tomorrow, I don't think anyone will be looking for you. Um," he continued, "Hey, Frank. Should I start trying to find you a good International Law attorney? I mean, I handled that thing in Brazil, and Sandy did all right in Russia and Ukraine, but if you're going to be doing a lot of this, you might want to consider a specialist."

  "I don't think so, Fred. This is kind of a one-shot. I don't think anyone else has any spare spaceships sitting around. No, I figure once this is over, I'll go back to being the eccentric recluse I've always been."

  "Bullshit!" Susan cried into the phone from behind Frank. "Don't you believe a word of it. And you'd better be looking for an international law specialist. Frank Weatherly's back in the game. There's no way he's going to back out now!"

  Fred laughed aloud. "It sounds like the law has been laid down," he said. "Good luck, Frank. I'll start looking for an international law guy right away."

  Frank turned to Susan. "No way I'm going to back out now, eh? And what's this 'bullshit' business? I've never heard you use language like that before."

  She sniffed. "Because you've never talked bullshit before. Frank, you're a businessman through and through. A wheeler-dealer. If you stop, you start getting old. You're going to be in the game for a long time yet. In fact, with your new reputati
on, you may be the first man to make a billion from space travel."

  "You know," he said thoughtfully, "You just may be right. If this mission works, the crew will be bringing back an asteroid several kilometers in diameter, and mostly nickel-iron. If I can manage to set up a smelter in orbit, maybe using solar power, I'll be making metals to build spaceships. Man will be on his way to a moon colony within a decade, and I'll be selling them the ships."

  Susan frowned. "Maybe. That's why you need that international law specialist. You do understand that as soon as some smart guy realizes that, the UN will be declaring that no individual can own a celestial body. They'll declare it a UN resource, appoint smart boy in charge, say 'thank you', and kick your butt off it."

  Frank answered her frown with one of his own. "Believe it or not, I hadn't really thought of that. To be honest, I never really thought of this project in terms of profit and loss. I just thought about the benefits to mankind."

  Susan looked exasperated. "That's the problem with you and this project. You're not thinking of it as a business deal, you're thinking of it as charity, a gift to mankind. Well, you're mankind, too. Get your mind on business, Frank. Aren't you the one who always said you didn't trust altruism?"

  "Yeah." His grin was rueful. "I always said when someone claims they're not going to profit from something, look out. They've hidden it somewhere in the fine print. And now I've been running around throwing money around and saying the same things. No wonder the President of Brazil didn't trust me. Hell, I wouldn't trust me, either."

  He got up and walked around to Susan. Taking her in his arms, he said, "Darling, thank you. I've been in this damned altruistic, philanthropic haze ever since David showed up in the Philippines." He gave her a big hug, and then stepped away.

  "All right," he said briskly. "Frank Weatherly is back in the game, and we've got a lot to do.

  "First, get us out of here. I want to be back in Brazil as quickly as possible. Second, I've got to figure out how I can get Brazil to renegotiate that contract. Right now, it's a damned giveaway. Stupidest damned thing I've ever done.

  "Next, find me the most successful fund raising outfit in the damned world. We're going after the money to launch Man's Dream.

  "Next, I need the best public relations firm we can get on the job. Dolf has been doing a great job of selling me as some kind of hero. But he's got other things to do, and I want a specialist on the job.

  "Next, call Fred and tell him that that international law specialist will have to be willing to relocate to Brazil. Man's Hope International is going to need a headquarters, and we've got friends in the government there."

  Susan's face was lit by the biggest smile he'd ever seen. "Yes, sir! Welcome back, Mr. Weatherly! Uh, Why not set up the headquarters in America? You're safe there, now."

  He shook his head firmly. "No. Oh, we'll have an office in new York, of course, and maybe one in Chicago or San Francisco. But the same old objection applies. I don't want Man's Hope to become identified as an American company. The less U.S. involvement the better, at least for a while." He looked at her sternly. "So, when does our plane leave? We aren't packed yet?"

  "Almost, sir," Susan replied, still wearing that huge grin. "I'll get right on those things. I'll also tell Jaymo his water problem seems to be fixed, and he can start booking guests again."

  "Good idea. Oh," he continued, "and move that public relations outfit to near the top of that list. I've got a feeling I'm going to be meeting with the President of the Russian Federation in a week or so, and we want to make the most of it. Ask if they can send a representative to Brasilia, one with the authority to sign a million-dollar contract."

  "Yes, sir," Susan replied. "I'll try to call them before we even leave here."

  Frank frowned. "Well, make sure you use the anonymous proxies for those phone calls. Maybe the U.S. government isn't after me anymore, but you can bet the media and the grifters are."

  Four hours later, Frank and Susan were on their way from the Philippines to Hong Kong for a flight to Los Angeles, to connect with a charter flight to Brasilia. Frank hated to be going through a U.S. airport, especially LAX. But in the event, it was no problem.

  Homeland Security had evidently passed the "hands off" message to TSA. They were whisked through Customs with barely a slowdown. A man was standing just outside the security cordon near the baggage carousel, wearing a jacket with the large logo, "Canfield Charters," and a sign bearing Frank's name. They claimed their luggage and met him at the door. "This way, sir." The man said. He asked to see Frank's ID, so he would be sure he had the right customer, and then loaded them and their baggage into a van. They drove around the airport perimeter for some fifteen minutes before pulling up alongside a hangar where a large business jet was warming up. Frank and Susan went into the office to complete the contract, while the driver loaded their baggage aboard the plane. Then, they simply went out and boarded. In all, less than two hours on the ground, surely a record for LAX!

  It had been two very long flights, but they arrived in Brasilia wide-awake and ready for business. First class on the Hong-Kong to LAX flight had been comfortable, and the attendants attentive. They had napped, and read magazines and books on their tablets.

  The charter flight was even more comfortable. Two flight attendants catered to their every wish, and the executive jet was plush and comfortable. They could even stretch out and lie down. They reached Brasilia well rested, and happy to be back.

  Chapter 11

  They had called ahead, so Gilberto Almendes was expecting them. As Frank had requested, Joao Bernardez was also present, representing the Ministry of Development, Industry, and Trade. Both men rose to greet them, real pleasure lighting their faces. "Senhor Weatherly! Senhorita Andrews!" Almendes said heartily, "Welcome back to Brazil! I am very happy that you were able to get your problem with America solved. They have also stopped their harassment of Brazil, though I doubt that will do much good. I understand that trade with the U.S. will never again reach its previous level. I think they, how do you say, 'shoot themselves in the foot?'"

  "That is true," Joao added. "Frank, you reactionary Yankee imperialist! I thought we were rid of you."

  Joao was also standing. Frank grinned. "Oh Wow, you lousy, red, commie, pinko, fellow traveler! They haven't locked you up as an enemy of the state, yet?"

  The two men grinned, and their handshake turned into a hug.

  Finally, they all sat down around the table in Almendes' office. "Okay, Frank," Joao said. Did you come back to give us some more of your billions?"

  Frank smiled. "No billions left to give. I'm down to a few million."

  Joao rolled his eyes. "Poverty! Why, next you'll want to get onto the Welfare rolls!"

  "It's not quite that bad, Joao. But we do need to talk some business." The others settled back as Frank began to speak.

  "While I was in hiding, I realized that my project was about to enter an entire new phase, and that we would need to renegotiate our contract."

  Almendes' eyebrows rose, but Joao's face turned expressionless.

  Frank waved a dismissing hand. "Oh, I don't mean I'll be trying to renege on our present contract. After all, the property in question is in your country. It's not like I could pack it up and move it. But as I said, we're moving into a whole new phase here; a business phase. I wanted to discuss it with you immediately, so that you would have time to consider my offer.

  "Our current contract has Brazil, specifically the Brazilian Space Agency, assuming ownership of the Man's Hope International launch pad. However, the timing of that assumption is vague. Basically, it is to happen if and when the mission is complete, or its failure is known. That could be as much as several years.

  "Now it appears that we may be able to launch a second spacecraft. The Russians have located another of the original Energia boosters, and are offering it to me. If I wished, I could consider that part of the original mission, and add several years to its length. Besides that, I understa
nd that inquiries have been coming in asking about heavy-load launches from Alcântara. I assume you have had to tactfully refuse those inquiries, because you won't have control of the launch pad."

  Almendes nodded soberly. "Exactly. Until the mission is complete or is a failure, the launch pad belongs to Man's Hope International. We have been forced to refuse actual offers, because none of your people at Alcântara had the authority to complete the contracts."

  Frank nodded. "Well, here is my proposal, gentlemen. I suggest that Man's Hope International surrender the launch pad to the Brazilian government without waiting for the mission to be completed. At the same time, we would sign a separate contract awarding another, for-profit company exclusive license to operate the launch pad, and perhaps even the entire launch site, in exchange for a share of the profits."

  Joao's smile was cold. This was business. "And why should we license it at all? Why shouldn't it be operated by the Space Agency, as the rest of it is at present?"

  Frank smiled. "For a couple of reasons, Joao. First, you won't be receiving the pad until the mission is complete, which may not be for several years. For now, I have access and control, by contract. If I wished, I could start sweeping up those launches you've had to refuse, and launch them myself, without paying you a centavo. And my lawyers could delay the surrender for as much as several years past the actual end of the mission, which would prolong the time when I could be profiting.

  "But as a businessman, I know that the best deals are those where both parties benefit. When there is a winner and a loser, there is one unhappy party.

  "Secondly, and with all due respect to Senhor Almendes, you gentlemen are government. The function that government performs best is oversight and enforcement. Frankly, governments make very poor businessmen. That's why so many government-owned businesses fail, and have to be continually bailed out by the government that runs them. Example A is the U.S. Postal Service, which loses money every year, while its private competitors grow larger and more profitable every year."

  Almendes winced slightly. The Space Agency was not exactly a cash cow for Brazil.