by Ward Wagher
“That is my cue,” Smythe said. “I need to get back to the room and pack him up.”
Jones nodded. “I will stay with the boss.”
RWB studied the check and then left a couple of bills on the table. He walked over to where Jones sat.
“Ready to go, Sing?”
“Whenever you are ready.”
They walked across the hotel lobby to the elevators. They were the only two in the car when it rose.
“You are not curious about the girl?” RWB asked.
“I am somewhat curious, RWB. But I act under the assumption that you will tell me what I need to know.”
“I like your discretion. For your information, she and I will likely see more of each other. I have never met anyone like her.”
“We will give you as much privacy as consistent with our responsibilities.”
“And I appreciate that. And I also appreciate the job you do. I worry more about things happening than you may realize. Especially after what happened to Pop.”
He turned and lay his forehead against the side of the elevator car. “Why did he have to die?” came the anguished voice.
“I do not have an answer for that, RWB,” Jones said softly.
The younger man regained his composure and again faced the front of the elevator car. “I apologize for that outburst, Sing.”
Jones shrugged. He was unable to think of anything to say, anyway. The doors opened to the sixteenth floor and RWB walked down the hall to his room.
“All packed, Fillip?”
“Yes, RWB.”
“Jones and I will take care of the luggage,” he said. “You can go warm up the shuttle. Cathay, why don’t you check us out.”
“Right.”
“We can take care of the luggage, Boss,” Jones said.
“No. Then somebody would have to make a second trip and I am ready to leave.”
“I will have someone from the command center help. They are not all needed to pack up.”
“Good idea. I forgot about them.”
“Part of my job,” Jones replied.
RWB smirked at Jones. “I am glad you thought so.”
Within ten minutes Smythe had the shuttle climbing through the southern skies.
“It is a lot smoother today, Fillip,” RWB called from the passenger area. “You must have replaced the square wheels.”
“It was time for some new wheels, I think,” Smythe called back.
RWB smiled and stretched his frame out in the comfort of the seats.
“Should I be making any plans for the day or this evening?” Jones asked.
“Yes, you should, and I am glad you reminded me. I will be flying up to Asimov Station for dinner tonight. I plan to spend the night and come back in the morning.”
“Do you want me to make the necessary arrangements, then?”
“Fillip will take care of that. Have you made any progress in lining up some more security? You are beginning to look tired.”
“I was up most of the night keeping an eye on the new group we brought with us. If you are going to be in your office today, I will use the time to vet some more security. Chaim has lined up some people, and I trust him. But I prefer to personally eyeball the new people.”
“And I assume you will find time for a nap.”
Jones nodded. “I can catch a few winks here and there.”
“Uncle Holden has been sending messages that he needs me in the office. I suppose I shall have to oblige. I did not ask for this job, but I am going to have to do the best I can.”
Before the prior evening’s trip, Jones had managed some preparation. He had a travel bag with him when RWB escaped from Holden Palmer’s clutches the previous afternoon. He slipped his comp term out of the pack and began looking the incoming message queue. There were several messages from Palmer in his queue as well.
Holden Palmer was insistently asking when RWB would return to Chicago. Jones typed a quick reply and worked through the rest of the messages. Fortunately, Wilton House had its own security force and they were superbly trained. Once they delivered the boy to his office, they were officially off-duty. He and Cathay would take the time to vet the mobile guard force.
He was also really going to have to put his head down for a while. RWB was correct. He was very tired. He would plan on adding three guards to the roster for tonight’s activities. He expected to be up most of the night supervising the new team. He trusted Cathay implicitly, but for this first trip, it -would be something he had to do for himself.
§ § §
“You really need to do better at staying in touch with my office,” Holden Palmer said.
“You are whining, Holden,” RWB replied. “I did receive your messages.”
“But you did not answer me.”
RWB leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. “If an emergency arose, I would respond.”
“These are important items we must discuss, Ward.”
RWB’s eyes twinkled. “I am here. We can discuss these items now.”
“That is not what I meant,” the older man snapped.
“I know what you meant.”
“If you are unhappy with the way I work, I suppose I could resign.”
“I suppose you could,” RWB said with a smile. “However, I am very happy with the work you do. But you must understand that I operate differently than Pop did.”
“That is what I mean. Your father and I were a smoothly running team.”
“And I would like that as well,” the younger man replied. “But we will build that team on my terms, not yours.”
“You are not being very cooperative.”
“And did you have this argument with Pop when you first began working for him?”
“I do not believe you truly understand how this government functions. It is complicated.”
RWB grinned more broadly. “In other words, you did have this argument with Pop. And he won. Right?”
Palmer glared at him for perhaps thirty seconds. He then sat down in the chair across the desk from RWB and cleared his throat.
“The first item is to get your thumbprint and retinal scan for access to the Paladin’s files.”
“And that request is in my queue, right?” RWB asked.
“Yes, that is one of the items I sent to you.”
RWB waved the item open on his desk and looked at it. “Very well, commence scan.”
He leaned forward and the simulcrum on the desktop ran a scan across his eye. He held up his hand and saw the line of laser-light move across the palm and fingers.
He looked up and grinned at Palmer. “Next item?”
“We need to confirm signature authority for the Paladin’s banks.”
“This means I can do anything I want with the Paladin’s funds.”
“You can do anything you want to with the Paladin’s personal funds. The funds for the Palatinate require a countersign from Ellen Dwyer in the Treasury.”
“I understand,” RWB responded. “While we are on this topic, I need to talk to somebody about how to arrange my personal portfolio along with what came from Pop.”
“The Sterling Company managed your father’s funds, of course. I can arrange for one of the partners to speak with you. I do not know where you have your personal funds.”
“That is right. I had forgotten about that.” RWB smirked. “Pop and I had quite the argument about that. Very well. Please contact the Sterling Company and ask someone to come for a visit. We probably should do that sooner rather than later.”
Palmer ticked off an item on his comp term. “Next item. Are you satisfied with the office?”
RWB looked around the expansive room. “Where did you put Pop’s artifacts?”
“In 5010. It is across the hall.”
“Fine. When we get done here, I will look at it and see if there is anything I would like back in here. Otherwise this looks fine for now.”
“What would you like done with the remainder
?”
“Honestly, Holden? I really do not want to think about that right now. There should be no problem with storing the things in that room right now, correct?”
“Not at all,” Palmer responded.
“Good. I am glad you got everything moved from my office into here so quickly. I was very comfortable in my old office.”
“Mm-mm,” Palmer studied the list. “There will be other housekeeping items, am sure. Now we need to discuss some Palatinate business.”
RWB sighed. “I suppose we will have to.”
“Ward,” Palmer leaned forward in his chair. “I recognize you were not prepared to take this position, however you agreed to do it. This is a rest of your life sort of thing. Being the Paladin’s Secretary is a prestigious position and I enjoy it. However, I refuse to allow you to look at this as a toy you can play with. You are impacting the lives of millions of people around the globe. It is not a game.”
RWB held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Listen, I am sorry, Holden. This is all new to me. I know I am not handling it well. Bear with me, please.”
Palmer’s face changed. “I suppose I should apologize to you, Ward. I am so focused on the smooth running of the Palatinate that I forget what you have gone through with your father.”
RWB waved a hand. “No matter, I guess. What is the next item?”
“Our ambassador to the Carolina Free State wants to resign.”
“And that would be…”
“Xavier Packard. Do you know him?”
“Pop mentioned him a time or two, I think,” RWB said. “Why does he want to do this?”
“He has been in the position for ten years,” Palmer explained. “He wants to return to his business.”
“So, we let him resign. What is the problem?”
Palmer raised an eyebrow. “He would come to your father every year like clockwork and ask to resign. You father always talked him into staying on.”
“Maybe I’m missing something here,” RWB said. “If the poor man wants to resign, let him resign. Anybody that has stayed ten years in that cesspool deserves a break.”
“Your father was of the opinion the man wanted attention. Packard would march in and ask to be relieved of the job and your father would stroke him. He would walk out beaming and fly back to Columbia.”
“Has he done a good job for us?”
“As you say,” Palmer said, “Columbia is a cesspool. Your father told me one time he was happy to allow the O’Blecks to wallow in the muck as long as they did not track it into the Palatinate. Xavier Packard is uncommonly skilled at keeping them happy wallowing in their own muck.”
RWB thought about that for a few moments. “You are really cynical, Holden. Did you know that?”
Palmer chuckled softly. “That goes with the territory, Ward.”
The Paladin glanced at his wrist chrono.
“Is there someplace you must be?” Palmer asked.
“Actually yes. I have a dinner scheduled up at Asimov Station in an hour. I suspect Smythe is holding clearance open for me.”
“Then I should not stand in your way, Ward.” Palmer’s sarcasm was obvious.
RWB chose to ignore it. “Thanks, Holden. I will see you tomorrow.”
The younger man got up and walked out of the office leaving Holden Palmer shaking his head.
CHAPTER NINE
Leonard Cord walked into Holden Palmer’s office looking frustrated. He stopped in front of Palmer’s desk, clenching and unclenching his hands.
“Having a rough morning, Leonard?”
“Can I sit down, Holden?”
Palmer waved an arm. “Have a chair. What can I help you with?”
Cord breathed deeply before speaking. “I need to get my blood pressure under control. Our esteemed Paladin just left my office.”
“Ahhh,” Palmer replied with a knowing smile. “And what was it Mr. Baughman said that set you off.”
“He asked me why I bothered asking him about the topic at hand.”
Palmer folded his hands together and propped his elbows on the desk. “I see. Tell me about it.”
“I badly needed a conversation with the Paladin concerning money to repair Wilton Hall at the Paladin’s College in Urbana.”
“What was the substance of the conversation, then?”
“There was some damage from that tornado that hit the area. They had a near miss and the provost discovered the insurance on the building had lapsed. The insurance company required us to bring the building back up to spec before they would resume coverage.”
Palmer nodded. “That is certainly understandable.”
“And when I asked the Paladin what to do, he asked me what I recommended.”
“And what did you recommend, Leo?” Palmer asked.
“Why, we have no choice but to repair the building. And that is what I told him.”
“I see. And that was when you got upset with him?”
“Well, yes. He asked me why I bothered to bring this to his attention since there was only one reasonable option. I told him that it was critical we make a decision so we could get the insurance coverage reinstated.”
“That sounds reasonable to me,” Palmer commented.
“Exactly. But he told me that since there was only one reasonable option, I should have gone ahead and made the decision. There was plenty of money in that fund, so there was no point in waiting.”
Palmer slipped into a wry smile. “It appears he wanted you to just make the decision.”
“He said that I should not need to bother him with such.”
Palmer shook his head. “It seems to me that I remember that you complained because the old Paladin micromanaged your shop.”
“Well, he did.”
“And now you complain because he lets you make the decisions.”
Cord leaned forward with his forearms on his legs. “But you do not understand. What if I make a bad decision?”
“Have you made any bad decisions recently?” Palmer raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Not in the last thirty years.”
“I would think, then, that there is little to worry about.”
Cord now looked exasperated. “Come on, Holden! If I made a bad decision, it would be my responsibility.”
“I believe that is what you did when you agreed to manage the infrastructure for the Palatinate,” Palmer said dryly.
Cord stood up suddenly. “You are no help. This really bothers me.”
“Sit down, Leonard.”
Palmer stared at the other man until he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. The silence extended for perhaps fifteen seconds.
“Leo, we have a very different sort of Paladin now.”
“I agree. All he does is party and consume ethanol. And he is immoral.”
“That is true,” Palmer spoke softly, “and then some. I have discovered, though, that he does pay attention to what we are doing. He told me that if I did not know what I was doing, his father would never have appointed me.”
“And that really bothers me,” Cord muttered.
“So, Ward told me that we seemed to be doing our jobs well and he was not driven to meddle. I would say, Leonard, that if you started making mistakes, he would eventually replace you.”
Cord looked down at the carpet and then up again at the Paladin’s Secretary. “I suppose you are right, Holden. But the entire situation is strange.”
“Not strange. Different. Be assured the Paladin pays attention to what we are doing.”
“He does all of that,” Cord admitted. “I have learned to be prepared when we meet. From the questions he asks, there is no doubt he reads the briefing papers.”
“How long have you run your own finance business?” Palmer asked.
“Investment house,” Cord corrected. “Sixty years near enough.”
“You have no problem taking responsibility for that.”
“But as Director of Infrastructure, I am responsible for the government's funds. I
would hate to waste it.”
“How long have you managed Ward’s private funds?” Palmer asked.
“About ten years. When he came of age, he transferred the funds from the Sterling Company to Peoria Investments.”
“And you have no problem with that responsibility….”
Cord interrupted him. “But he definitely pays close attention to his investments. He gives me a lot of directives in managing his money.”
“Then he obviously trusts you, Leo.”
Cord stood up again and walked over to the window. He studied the Chicago skyline and the waves of blowing snow. After a while, he turned around.
“I understand what you are saying, Holden. I suppose I need to adapt to RWB’s style. I just assumed that he would work with me in the same manner as he does with his private funds.”
“I have had the same problem,” Palmer replied. “When Ward waved his hand and told me to make the call, I did not know what to do. It took some time to realize that he was trusting me to make decisions for him. But then I discovered it was quite liberating.”
Cord shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. “I suppose I have made quite the fool of myself, Holden.”
Palmer grinned at him. “No worse than usual.”
“Thanks, Holden,” came the sarcastic reply.
“Just keep doing what you are doing,” Palmer instructed. “I believe you will come to enjoy it. Ward really does want to leave you alone to do your job. I suspect he believes that mistakes are instructive. If things end up a net positive for the Palatinate, I believe he will be satisfied.”
Cord sucked on his lower lip and then shrugged. “I suppose I really have nothing to lose. Thanks for your time, Holden.”
“That is what I am here for.”
Without another word, Leonard Cord walked from the Secretary’s office. Holden Palmer watched him leave and then looked down at his desk with a smile. This wasn’t the first such conversation he had experienced with a member of the government and it probably would not be the last. The new Paladin was a very different animal, but things seemed to be working.
Palmer had considered resigning from his position after the death of the old Paladin. It would be only fair to allow the new Paladin an opportunity to put his own people in place. Ward Baughman had insisted that Palmer remain as the Paladin’s Secretary. The new Paladin had carefully explained that he had known Palmer all his life and trusted him. By retaining him in the position, Baughman would achieve continuity and stability. Palmer admitted to himself that things were interesting.
