by Ward Wagher
“Do you expect to hit that hole from here?” Scout whined.
He grinned at her. “That would be very nice, and that should always be the goal. At this distance, I would consider myself lucky to have the ball stop somewhere on the green.”
“The green?” she asked.
“That is the area directly around the hole.”
“Oh.”
He aimed and took his shot. He, Scout and the guards watched as the ball arced over the course and landed on the green. It rolled three or four feet and then halted.”
He squinted at the green. “I think we are golden,” he stated as he walked back to the cart.
They moved close to the green and he walked on with his putter. “That has got to be twenty-five feet to the hole.”
“Can you do that?” she asked.
“I am going to try. This hole is a Par 4 and a birdie would be nice.”
She looked around the sky. “A bird?”
“If I put the ball in the hole with four strokes, I have made Par. Three strokes beat par and give me a birdie.”
“This is just silly,” she commented and flounced back to the cart.
RWB studied the green and walked over to the ball. After carefully lining himself up, he tapped the ball and it rolled across the green, stopping about two feet from the hole. He shrugged and walked over to finish the put.
Moving over to the second tee, he quickly teed up his ball and took the shot. They rode the cart to where the ball landed. Scout got out of the cart.
“This is a stupid game,” she said. “Is the clubhouse over that way?”
He looked in the direction she pointed. “No. You would need to head in that direction.”
“Fine. I will wait for you at the clubhouse.” And she marched off across the course.
Jones keyed his audio pickup. “Party2 returning to clubhouse.”
He listened to the acknowledgments and turned to focus on the Paladin. Others on the team would see to Ms. Donner’s safety.
RWB turned towards Jones. “Please make sure some helpful soul in the clubhouse does not serve her anything alcoholic.”
“Right.” He looked at Lesa. “Call it in, Lesa.”
§ § §
“I understand the girl did not think highly of golf, yesterday,” Holden Palmer said.
RWB studied the slight smirk on the man’s face and grinned back.
“No, she really did not. I had to cut the game short to make sure she did not decide to try to walk back to Chicago.”
“You usually do not misjudge people like that, Ward.”
“Oh, I did not misjudge Scout at all. I am struggling to find something to capture her interest so that she will not go find a bottle somewhere.”
“Oh.” Palmer thought about that for a few moments. “Perhaps I could give her a job.”
RWB looked up at the ceiling as he thought about what the secretary said. “I suppose that might be a possibility.”
“Or perhaps she does not have the job skills we are looking for.”
“That is a very good question, Holden. I really do not know if she has any particular skills. She is very bright, but I think is challenged to focus on any one thing.”
“Umm, I see,” Palmer tapped his cheek with an index finger. “That may make things challenging.”
“She told me that her father tried to interest her in several different positions in his company, but she rarely lasted longer than a day at them.”
“And he still gives her an allowance?” Palmer’s eyebrows raised. Then he held up his hands. “I am sorry. I did not mean to pry into personal matters.”
“If you were considering her for a position, this is something you should know. You remember that I always pulled my weight, even when I did not need to do so.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Palmer’s hands fluttered, “I did not mean to imply anything by that.”
“I understand. What you are wondering is why her father has not cut off her allowance.”
“Well, yes.”
“I do not know. Some people are funny that way. They cannot bear to cause discomfort for their darlings and therefore raise uncontrolled offspring. I believe that to be true in this case.”
“Then why…”
“…do I continue to see her?” RWB completed the question. “I ask myself that every day. I cannot answer you, Holden.”
Palmer took a deep breath and sighed. “Very well, then, Ward. Do you have any particular instructions for the Paladin’s Reception tomorrow night?”
“Already?”
“Yes, I told you two days after your father’s passing that you would need to host a reception so the other heads of state could greet you.”
“I know, I know. I simply forgot about it in the rush. This is a formal event, is it not?”
The secretary nodded. “Yes. I have already seen to the cleaning of your formal suit. It is ready. I instructed housekeeping to clean and polish your shoes. Do you realize your shoes are in a terrible state?”
“Excuse me?”
“You do not take good care of your shoes,” Palmer repeated. “I suggest you purchase a new pair before the reception. The housekeeping people simply cannot get a good shine on your formal shoes.”
“Good idea, Holden. Pick a shoe vendor and have them bring a selection for me to try. I do not apologize for being a slob, but I recognize that there will times when I must be presentable.”
“I am glad you understand, Ward.”
“Do not push it, Holden,” the Paladin growled. “I know what you are trying to do.”
“I am merely attempting to manage your interactions with the government. I want things to operate smoothly. Surely you do not think I am trying to manage your life.”
“I think that is exactly what you are trying to do. I watched you manage Pop that way for as far back as I can remember. He put up with a lot more than I plan to.”
“If you think I am not doing a good job, you can have my resignation any time, Ward.”
“Do not get your britches bunched, Holden. If I did not have confidence in you, I would have sacked you the day Pop died. I appreciate the job you do for me and for the Palatinate.”
“You certainly have a funny way to show it.”
RWB leaned forward in his chair and pointed a finger at the secretary. “Understand this, Holden, you will find me easy to work for. If you are doing your job, I will leave you alone. I will not allow you to manipulate me like you do so many others.”
“I understand, Ward,” he sniffed.
“Oh, I know you do,” RWB laughed. “And you have not given up, either. I have watched you work over the years and I have learned. I believe you will find that I have been an apt pupil.”
“Are we quite finished with this meeting, Sir?” Palmer asked icily.
“I believe we are done. Thanks for your help, Holden.”
RWB grinned as Palmer stormed out of the office. He was going to have to keep the little man pruned back, but he was not afraid of these occasional tiffs. He decided that Holden Palmer would have made a good mother for somebody. Just not RWB.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The subdued atmosphere of the Paladin’s Reception contrasted the aural assault of the parties RWB usually attended. The background music from the acoustic and wind instruments was nothing like the raw electronic noise preferred by the young people. To him, it more resembled Pop’s funeral than a celebration of his assumption of the Palatinate. He sighed inwardly, knowing it was one of the things he must endure as part of the job.
The first part of the evening required his greeting the heads of state, at least those able to attend. Most offered quiet congratulations on his accession and heartfelt condolences over the loss of Pop. There were exceptions, of course. The president of the Carolina Free State was coolly civil, but it was clear to RWB that the man was not a friend. The ambassador from the Centaurans was frankly appraising.
The Prime Minister for the United Kingdom was ef
fusive in his greetings, which was reasonable since the first Paladin had financed the first fusion power plant in the kingdom and had arguably saved the nation. Over the next several centuries, the Palatinate and the kingdom had become close trading partners and worked together to keep the competition among the nations under control.
The President of Pacifica was subdued. The terrorists had come within a hair’s breadth of killing a foreign head of state in his capital city and he was horrified and embarrassed.
“Once again, Paladin, you have my most sincere apologies for that event in our city. Something like should never have happened, and we were remiss in not detecting and stopping it before all those poor people were killed.”
The man was obviously distraught over the affair. RWB smiled and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“We had been trying to track those people as well, Mr. President. There was plenty of blame to go around. Rather than pointing out everyone’s errors, I think we should work together to make sure nothing like this happens again.”
“Oh, yes! Oh, yes.” The president bobbed his head. “Our head of Pacifica Law Enforcement and Environmental Quality stands ready to assist in any way. We will, of course, allow your people to lead on this. I think we have a lot to learn.”
The President of Pacifica remained uncomfortable that evening. And RWB was uncomfortable speaking with him. He seemed to reflect the mood of his people, who seemed determined to take the blame for the entire massacre. He could hardly blame them for the group of people who infiltrated their territory bent on mayhem. The Pacificans had a reputation for being a little weird, RWB thought, and the president was no different.
RWB had also noticed one of the servers working the room. A tall, willowy blond, her blue eyes sparkled in the light. She had delivered his drinks several times and he noted her sweet soprano voice. An attractive package, he thought.
“Paladin, I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face Clinton Worley and a short, stocky and swarthy man.
“Hello, Clint. I am glad to see a friendly face, tonight.”
Worley laughed. “This is Carlo Roma. He is the CEO of Nano Roma of Torino.”
They shook hands and Roma spoke. “An honor to meet you, Paladin. Clinton has been bragging on you for weeks and I looked forward to meeting you.”
“You are as young as I am,” RWB said. “Young to be the CEO of a multistellar.”
Roma smiled sadly. “And my situation was much like yours. My beloved Papa took ill and died suddenly. I was left controlling his properties and only the slightest idea of what I was doing.”
“I am sorry to hear about your father. When was this?”
“It was a mere four months ago. He took ill suddenly, and the doctors were mystified. Before I could properly grieve for him, I had to step into his role with the company. It was unpleasant.”
“And do you conduct business in the Palatinate?” RWB asked.
“I do. I have a subsidiary here in Chicago. We do our crystalplast manufacturing in Peoria. I must say the business climate here is good. I am considering moving more of my operations here. My government seems intent on regulating me to death.”
“We try to encourage our businesspeople and investors to focus their activities in the Palatinate,” Worley commented. “I agree. It has been a good place for me to do live and work.”
“Thank you for coming tonight Mr. Roma,” RWB murmured. “The next time you are in Chicago, please check with my office. Perhaps we could have lunch or something.”
“Of course,” Roma bowed his head.
Palmer eased up to the Paladin. “There are other businesspeople you should meet this evening.”
“See if you can get them to come over and introduce themselves, Holden,” RWB replied. “Everyone seems a bit shy, tonight.”
“Of course, Paladin.”
The evening meandered along and as the diplomatic group gradually disengaged and left the reception, RWB found himself in conversation with the business titans. Worley kept bring others into the conversation and he found himself greeting a good cross-section of the movers and shakers from Earth.
He knew that he would not be able to wait much longer to host a reception at Luna City on the Moon. Many of the accredited representatives of the colony worlds were more comfortable meeting away from Earth, and the Palatinate did enough business among the colonies that RWB was obligated to give them time.
RWB particularly enjoyed talking with Clinton Worley and Carlo Roma. He noticed Holden Palmer gazing at him expectantly and reluctantly decided it was time to leave the party. He stood up and set his Champaign flute on the tray of a passing server.
“My friends, I think we should call it an evening. Thank you for coming tonight. It was pleasant. I hope to see all of you again soon. Good night.”
Everyone rose to their feet and nodded respectfully. While the old Paladin was friendly, he had never stooped to spend time with the merchants. His guests wondered if this might reflect his attitudes toward them and if it would help their businesses.
The Paladin walked quickly from the room and the rest gradually made their exits. They felt it had been a successful reception and they fervently hoped the new Paladin agreed.
As he walked down the hallway to the elevator, along with his guards, he noticed the blond server standing along the side. He stopped and smiled at her.
“Would you care for a nightcap at my place?”
“Yes, of course, Paladin,” she said with a brilliant smile, her eyes twinkling in the light.
“Shall we go, then?”
As they walked down the hall, he leaned over so he could speak in Lesa Carper’s ear.
“Have Jones set up my guest suite.”
She frowned at him but nodded.
§ § §
“And next you will need to meet with the City Committee on Development,” Holden Palmer droned through the day’s agenda. “There are several permitting questions they need to discuss.”
“They cannot make up their minds?” RWB asked petulantly.
He glanced outside at the morning sun, which had not risen nearly far enough over Lake Michigan in his opinion. The previous evening had been enjoyable, but he felt a bit short of sleep.
“The Paladins have always been careful in the guidance development of the city,” Palmer patiently explained. “The plans and the philosophy have been documented over time and you are expected to follow that in your advice.”
“If everything has been documented, why do they need to speak with me, then?”
Palmer moved over and slid into the chair across from the Paladin. “If I may?”
RWB groaned. “Is this going to be another one of your lectures, Holden? I do not think I have the endurance for something like that this morning.”
“This is something which requires your attention, Ward. The Wiltons took a ruined city and designed something that is the envy of the Sphere of Man. The Baughmans have continued that tradition. If nothing else is true, this is a core part of your job description.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” RWB complained. “I have heard this from you once or twice a week. How is this any different?”
“Do you like this city, Paladin?”
“What? Of course, I do. It really is a jewel.”
“Then it behooves you to understand why it is the way it is. The Paladins have expended enormous efforts in managing the growth of Chicago and have avoided the traps that other cities have fallen into. Witness, for example, Boston.”
“Boston is not a city, Holden, it is a waste dump. Another one of their buildings fell down last week and killed a bunch of people.”
“That is exactly my point,” the secretary insisted. “Boston was a wreck when Jasper Wilton began his work to clear off the rubble of the old city, here and began building. Jasper had the vision. Apparently, nobody in Quebec has.”
“Boston has more of a climate issue
than we do,” RWB argued.
“No, it does not,” Palmer said. “They receive more snow, but it is colder here.”
RWB studied the little man and pondered where this was going. He decided that he was not going to win this one and began looking for a line of retreat.
“Very well, Holden. What do I need to do?”
The triumphant look on the man’s face was almost unbearable. “Have you read the city planning documents?”
“No, I have not. I usually have no problem getting to sleep at night.”
“Last night being the exception,” Palmer said dryly.
“What is that supposed to mean?” RWB shouted.
Palmer shrugged. “Just saying. Your first order of business should be to read the city development documents. These were written by previous Paladins and lay out the overall view of how the city should develop. Then you must meet with the committee. They really do look to you for leadership.”
“Very well,” RWB sighed. “Send me a link to the documents. I cannot seem to get my AI to cooperate half the time.”
“Very well,” Palmer was magnanimous in victory. “Following that you have lunch with the banking committee. Ms. Dwyer has been trying to arrange this for weeks.”
“It has taken her weeks because she allowed Pop to do her job for her and she has no idea how to manage this herself.”
“All the more reason to step into the meeting,” Palmer said. “I do not know if you are aware of this, but Ms. Dwyer is very close to simply resigning.”
“What? Because I told her that she needed to learn how to do her job?”
Palmer grinned slightly. “That may be part of it. No, Ward, she is really trying to follow your directives and run her department herself. I think if you offered some encouragement, she would be reassured.”
RWB picked up a stylus and tapped it on the desk. He glanced at the message queue and saw no way of escape there.
“How is she doing, really?” he asked.
