Wheels Within Wheels

III

Jo decided to pay Denver Haas a personal visit. The man had ignored all the literature forwarded to him and had refused to see any IBA representatives. Jo hated interstellar travel, hated that wave of nausea that occurs each time the ship comes in and out of warp, but Haas was located on Dil and that was only two jumps away. That wasn’t too bad and maybe a personal visit from IBA’s number-one officer would have some effect on the man. She hoped it would be worth it. He had promised to see her when she arrived.

Haas lived and worked in a converted warehouse not too far from the spaceport. The most vital and innovative aspects of his warp gate were now covered by Federation patents and so security was no longer of great importance. Still, Jo had to be cleared twice before she was allowed to enter the building.

Haas was obviously not out to impress anybody. The inside of the building was as dingy as the outside and a lone, harried receptionist-secretary occupied the single desk in the cluttered foyer.

Jo presented the girl with her clearance sheet. “Josephine Finch to see Mr. Haas,” she said.

The girl took the sheet without looking up, checked the appointment book and nodded. She pressed a button and said: “Miss Finch is here.”

“Send her in,” replied a gruff voice.

The girl pointed to a nondescript door with a simple “Haas” printed on it. Jo knocked and entered.

The office was an unbelievable clutter of filing cabinets, diagrams, blueprints and miscellaneous notes and drawings on scraps of paper. Denver Haas, a feverish little man, was bent over his desk, reading and making notes, looking like a gnome king ensconced among his treasures. He looked up as he heard the door, close.

“Ah, Miss Finch,” he said, smiling tightly. “You’ve come. This is quite an honor even if it is a waste of time for both of us. He rose, gathered some papers off a chair and threw them on the floor. Pushing the chair around to the front of the desk, he said, “Please sit down.”

Jo did so and waited for the little man to regain his seat. He was older than she had imagined with an unruly shock of graying hair and, of all things, a beard. With all the permanent depilation techniques available, facial hair was an unusual sight.

“Well, what is it you wanted to see me about?” he demanded.

“Your new product,” Jo said simply. “I think it has good potential and I’m here to convince you that IBA can help you get the most out of it.”

He smiled with what he thought was slyness. “And what makes you think I need any help from IBA at all?”

“The very nature of the warp gate,” she stated. “It’s major advantage is the simple fact that once you have a pair of them set up, shipping over any distance will become quicker, easier and dirt cheap. That’s fine for the major companies along the major trade routes, but that won’t sell too many gates for you. I don’t know what it will cost to purchase one, but I’m sure they won’t be cheap.”

Haas nodded in agreement and Jo continued.

“And don’t forget that all the freighters currently in use are equipped with individual warpers. It would be of little use for a company to send these ships through a gate when they can go by themselves. And what about the smaller companies that may have trouble meeting your price-”

Haas held up his hand. “I’ve thought of that and it’s all taken care of. If we get an initial flood of orders-and I’ve no doubt we will-we’ll be able to produce the subsequent gates at a lower price because we’ll be able to increase production scale.” He leaned back with a what-do-you-think-of-that?

look on his face.

“I figured on that,” Jo said. “But what about Star Ways?”

“What about it?”

“Competition. Star Ways is the biggest conglomerate in the galaxy and the individual warper is their meat-and-potatoes product. You don’t think they’re just going to sit still and let you make their primary product obsolete, do you? They’re going to cut their prices down-way down-until you fold. And when you go out of business, they’ll come along and buy up the rights to the warp gate. The royalties you’ll receive from them will give you enough money to last you three lifetimes, of course, but your company will be gone. IBA can prevent that from happening, or at least give SW a battle the likes of which it’s never seen.”

“No,” Haas said, shaking his head, “that will never happen. SW will never get the rights to the gate because I own them completely-completely. And I’ll never sell: I’m not after money … it’s something more than that. The warp gate is my life, I’ve worked on nothing else for as long as I can remember. Only recently have I been able to devote my full time to it, but it has been with me always. I’ve worked as an engineer, an architect, even a technician when times weren’t so good, but I’ve always come home to the game. It’s part of me now … I would no sooner lease the gate to another company than I would lease my right arm to another man. The Haas company will only lease the rights from me and if the Haas company can’t sell the gate, no one will.”

Jo smiled inwardly. She wondered if deBloise was aware of Mr. Haas’s plans for his invention; this monomaniac was just asking for financial ruin.

“I wonder what your backers would say if they knew this?” she asked.

“They know and they’re with me one hundred percent!”

Jo was taken aback by this statement; it didn’t make sense.

“And just who are your backers?”

“I can’t tell you. It seems they wish to remain anonymous which is strange, but none of my concern.

I’ve searched long and hard to find men with vision such as these. We are in complete accord and everything is legal so I really don’t care if they want to remain anonymous.” He rose. “And now I must get back to my work. But I do want to thank you for stopping in; I’ve had the utmost confidence in the gate but you’ve managed to boost it even higher.”

“How’s that?” Jo asked, puzzled.

“I was, at first, a little surprised that you knew about the gate but then I realized that IBA has far-reaching contacts. The fact that you were interested enough in the gate to come here and try to get ‘in on the kill’ is proof that its success is guaranteed. IBA rarely takes on losers.”

Jo was tempted to say that IBA had a reputation for turning losers into winners but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to explain. She merely shrugged. IBA could have done a lot for him but under no circumstances could she work with a man such as Haas. She merely shrugged and headed for the door.

“And there’s one thing you forgot,” Haas said with a gloat in his voice.

Jo gave him a questioning glance.

“Military contracts! You forgot about military contracts! The gate is perfect for supply and personnel transport on a military scale!”

She wanted to laugh in his face. The Federation forces would, of course, be glad to know that such a thing as the warp gate was available, but they’d need very few in peacetime and the prospect of a war was highly unlikely.

“Yes,” he went on, beaming, “I don’t think there will be any problem in getting those initial orders.

We’ll just have to sit back and watch them roll in.”

Jo left the warehouse in a daze. How did people like Haas get into business? He was, no doubt, a brilliant designer and theorist-the existence of the gate proved that-but he had no idea of the economic forces he would be up against. IBA could have helped, could have mounted a campaign to convince the backwater planets to purchase their own gates to cheapen import costs. This might have got Haas over the hump; but without the man’s cooperation such a plan was out of the question. As things stood now, SW would wipe the company off the map in no time and deBloise and his circle would lose a pile of money.

But according to Haas, deBloise was well aware of this idiocy. That didn’t make sense. She had done some research on deBloise and he had proven to be an extremely crafty man who planned well and covered all exits. Involvement in this fiasco-to-be was highly out of character and that bothered Jo, bothered her very much.

Returning to Ragna, Jo filled Old Pete in on the details and he was none too happy with the situation either.

“It doesn’t fit, Jo,” he said. “I’ve been watching deBloise carefully ever since he made political hay out of Junior’s death and this isn’t like him at all. I don’t like it.”

“Well, there are only two possible answers,” Jo sighed. “He has either made a big mistake this time and completely underestimated the situation, or he knows something we don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about making a choice, Jo; the answer is simple: he knows something we don’t-he must!” The old man shook his head and smiled ruefully. “Imagine Denver Haas thinking that military contracts would pull him through! Ha! There’s no one to fight! I mean, who are we going to go to war with, the Tarks?”

Jo had been reaching for the handle of one of her desk drawers but froze at the mention of the Tarks.

Old Pete noted the arrested movement.

“Don’t be silly, Jo,” he said. “The Federation may not be on the best terms with the Tarks but there’s no war in sight. There are economic and territorial disputes and it may eventually come to blows but not in the near future.” He turned toward the door. “And deBloise and his faction are nowhere near powerful enough to start one. That’s a blind alley, I’m afraid.’

Jo smiled and nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’ll see you later.” But when he was gone her demeanor changed. She leaped upon the intercom. “Find William Grange-tell him to drop whatever he’s doing and get to my office immediately.” She cut off without waiting for a reply.

The Tarks were the key. Old Pete had been right about the war aspect: there was no way deBloise could start a war. But the pieces had suddenly fallen together for Jo-at least she hoped they had-and what she saw was a most ingenious, devious plan. Denver Haas had given her all the pieces and Old Pete had brought in the catalyst: the Tarks.

She couldn’t help but smile with admiration as she considered all the delicate aspects of the insidious plot. This deBloise character was a truly remarkable man. The Restructurists were lucky to have him on their side. But the Federation had Josephine Finch.

Grange came in then. “You wanted to see me, Miss Finch?”

“Yes, Bill. I need some quick information on SW.”

Grange visibly relaxed at this statement and took a seat. He knew more about Star Ways than many of its board members. The company had been the first to develop a commercial interstellar warp unit and quickly changed its name from Heller Technical to the more picturesque Star Ways Corporation.

Through innovative marketing and financial maneuvers and the tried and true business practice of hiring the best and making it worth their while to stay on, Star Ways had securely placed itself in the number one spot as far as gross income was concerned. The corporation had never needed the services of IBA.

“What specifically do you want to know? I could talk all day.”

“I know you could,” Jo replied with a smile. “But I want to know SW’s two top subsidiaries-not necessarily the most active but the ones most important to the gross income.”

“The first is easy: their tube-drive company. When they acquired that they really began to move because they could outfit ships for both interstellar and peristellar travel. They have a number of fair-sized competitors … Fairgood is giving them the best fight they’ve had in years.” He beamed as he said this; Fairgood was an IBA account.

“The second most important subsidiary is a debatable choice. General Trades generates a lot of income on luxury items but there’s that pharmaceutical company they acquired a while back-Teblinko Drugs-that’s been a thorn in their side. They had to pour a lot of money into it but things seem to be paying off at last. Latest figures show that it’s pulled up behind Opsal Pharmaceuticals which makes it the number two drug firm. So I’d say that Teblinko and General Trades are of equal importance at the moment, but once Teblinko consolidates its gains its well-being will be somewhat less crucial to overall profits.”

Jo nodded and made a few notes.

“What’s this all about?” he asked. Jo had decided to keep her counterplan to herself. She was debarking on a precarious course of action, the repercussions of which might well reverberate throughout the whole galactic economic structure; the fewer who knew about it the better.

“Just working out a theoretical problem,” she replied. “You’ve been a big help. May I call on you again if I need you?”

“Sure,” Grange replied, taking the hint and rising. He was too canny to be fooled by Jo’s lame explanation-you weren’t told to drop everything and get up to the head office because of a theoretical problem-but he was confident of being filled in on all the details if and when he came to be involved.

When he had gone, Jo ordered the complete files on Fairgood Drive and Opsal Pharmaceuticals; both were long-standing IBA accounts. She began poring over them as soon as they arrived.

With the Fairgood file was an envelope with new information: a natural deposit of Leason crystals had been found on the second planet of the Rako system-the Tarks, however, were also claiming the find since Rako occupies a place along the mutual expansion border. To further complicate matters, consent for export had to be obtained from the inhabitants-a group of senile savages.

Jo shook her head and put the file aside. That would take a very careful evaluation. Now to look at Opsal. Opsal and Teblinko were in a pitched battle for the galactic pharmaceutical trade. The two companies were about equal in product quality but Opsal had a slight advantage in distribution since it was slightly older. Teblinko, however, was closing the gap.

What was clearly needed was a new product and both companies were vying for the rights to a certain grain rust on the planet Lentem. Again, the only thing holding them up was the native intelligent race. For the Tarks wanted the same item and the natives were holding out, hoping to use their commodity as a bargaining point between the two interstellar races.

Jo frowned. The Tarks were popping up more and more lately. There would be a clash someday-a big one. The Tarcan Empire was ruthless and active and no doubt took the Federation’s laissez-faire attitude as a sign of weakness, or poor organization. One day they would overstep their boundaries to test the Federation’s mettle. That would be a fatal mistake for the Tarks.

She fed the Opsal data into the computer and asked for a few correlations and information on any existing variables which she might be able to manipulate. The machine gave her a number of items, among them was the fact that the Tarcan representative was due for another visit to Lentem in quest of the grain rust rights. Also, there emerged a short biography on a man named James Rondo, a terran and the only

“alien” allowed permanent residence on Lentem.

She immediately sent an urgent message to the president of Opsal telling him to send a man to Lentem as soon as possible and to place one thousand shares of Opsal stock under the name of one James Rondo, resident of Lentem. She could give no reasons now but asked the president to trust her.

IBA had done well for them in the past and was trying to do so now.

Now for Fairgood: that company had followed IBA’s advice by sending out exploration teams to any star systems which showed spectroanalytic traces of Leason crystals. It was an expensive undertaking which had yielded only analogues until last year when a motherlode of true, natural Leason crystals had been found on Rako II. Leason crystals were the major lining of peristellar drive tubes and until now could only be obtained through an expensive, low-yield synthesis; a large natural deposit was priceless.

However, the Tarks were claiming the planet, too. A major incident was avoided-luckily-by the discovery of a dying, semi-savage race on the planet. By mutual agreement, Tark and Terran had agreed not to exploit any planet with intelligent natives without the permission of those natives. These natives wanted rejuvenation of their race in return for the crystals, and both the Fairgood company and the Tarcan Empire had research teams at the site trying to solve the problem. No one was meeting with any success. A public-relations expert was clearly indicated here-only the “public” in this case would be a group of aliens.

Jo thought she knew the firm which could supply the right man; if he was free at this time and the firm could be convinced to send him, Andy Tella was the man. She got a message off to Fairgood and virtually insisted that they send one Andrew Tella off to Rako II-and be sure to give him plenty of incentive, she added.

These preparations completed, Josephine Finch could only sit and wait. If her plan was successful, deBloise would be countered. That was all that mattered. As far as she was concerned, this was merely an economic move with political implications. She was using her economic influence to preserve a political system she believed in.

She was totally unaware of what Larry Easly would find on Jebinose and had no idea that her detachment toward deBloise was about to be transformed into a very personal involvement.