Friday

XVI

Five minutes later we were out on the street again. For some tense moments it seemed that we were going to be hanged or shot or at least locked up forever in their deepest dungeon for the crime of not being Californians. But cooler counsel prevailed when Warwhoop's leading legal eagle convinced him that it was better to let us go than it was to risk a trial, even one in chambers-the Quebecois Consul General might cooperate but buying his whole staff could be horribly expensive.

That was not quite how he put it but he did not know that I was listening, as I had not mentioned enhanced hearing even to Georges. The Chief's chief counselor whispered something about the trouble we had with that little Mexicana doll after all those other greasers got aholt of the story. We can't afford another mess like that one. You wanta watch it, Chief, they gotcha by the short ones.

So at last we passed the Palace and went to MasterCard main California office, forty-five minutes late... and lost another ten minutes shucking off our false personae in a rest room of the Califonnia Commercial Credit Building. The rest room was nondiscriminatory and democratic but not aggressively so. There was no charge to get in and the stalls had doors on them and the women used one side and the men used the side that had those vertical bathtub things that men use as well as stalls, and the only place they mingled was in a middle room equipped with wash trays and mirrors and even there women tended to stay on their side and men on the other. I'm not upset by co-ed plumbing-after all, I was raised in a crèche-but I have noticed that men and women, given a chance to segregate, do segregate.

Georges looked a lot better without lip paint. He had used water on his hair, too, and slicked it down. I put that noisy scarf into my jumpbag. He said to me, "I guess I was silly, trying to camouflage us this way."

I glanced around. No one near and the high noise level of plumbing and air conditioning-"Not in my opinion, Georges. I think that in six weeks you could be turned into a real pro."

"What sort of a pro?"

"Uh, Pinkerton, maybe. Or a-" Someone came in. "Discuss it later. Anyhow, we got two lottery tickets out of it."

"So we did. When is the drawing on yours?"

I took mine out, looked at it. "Why, it's today! This very afternoon! Or have I lost track of the date?"

"No," Georges said, peering at my ticket, "it's today all right. About an hour from now we had better be near a terminal."

"No need," I told him. "I don't win at cards, I don't win at dice, I don't win lotteries. When I buy Cracker Jack, sometimes the box doesn't have a prize in it."

"So we'll watch the terminal anyhow, Cassandra."

"All right. When is your drawing?"

He took out his ticket; we looked at it. "Why, it's the same drawing!" I exclaimed. "Now we have much more reason to watch."

Georges was still looking at his ticket. "Friday. Look at this." He rubbed his thumb across the printing. The lettering stayed sharp; the serial number smeared heavily. "Well, well! How long did our friend have her head under the counter before she 'found' this ticket?"

"I don't know. Less than a minute."

"Long enough, that's clear."

"Are you going to take it back?"

"Me? Friday, why would I do that? Such virtuosity deserves applause. But she's wasting a major talent on a very minor scam. Let's get along upstairs; you want to finish with MasterCard before the lottery drawing."

I went back temporarily to being "Marjorie Baldwin" and we were allowed to talk to "our Mr. Chambers" in the main office of California MasterCard. Mr. Chambers was a most likable person- hospitable, sociable, sympathetic, friendly, and just the man, it appeared, that I needed to see, as the sign on his desk told us that he was Vice-President for Client Relations.

After several minutes I began to see that his authority was to say no and that his major talent lay in saying no in so many pleasant, friendly words that the client hardly realized that she was being turned down.

First, please understand, Miss Baldwin, that California MasterCard and Chicago Imperium MasterCard are separate corporations and that you do not have a contract with us. To our regret. True, as a matter of courtesy and reciprocity we ordinarily honor credit cards issued by them and they honor ours. But he was truly sorry to say that at the moment-he wanted to emphasize "at the moment"- the Imperium had cut off communication and, strange as it seems, there was not today even an established rate of exchange between bnuins and crowns... so how can we possibly honor a credit card from the Imperium even though we want to and will gladly do so

later. But we do want to make your stay with us happy and what can we do for you toward that end?

I asked when he thought the emergency would be over.

Mr. Chambers looked blank. "Emergency? What emergency, Miss Baldwin? Perhaps there is one in the Imperium since they have seen fit to close their borders... but certainly not here! Look around you-did you ever see a country so glowing with peace and prosperity?"

I agreed with him and stood up, as there seemed no point in arguing. "Thank you, Mr. Chambers. You have been most gracious."

"My pleasure, Miss Baldwin. MasterCard service. And don't forget: Anything I can do for you, anything at all, I am at your service."

"Thank you, I'll remember. Uh, is there a public terminal somewhere in this building? I bought a lottery ticket earlier today and it turns out that the drawing is almost at once."

He grinned broadly. "My dear Miss Baldwin, I'm so happy that you asked! Right on this floor we have a large conference room and

every Friday afternoon just before the drawing everything stops and our entire office staff-or at least those who hold tickets; attendance is not compulsory-all of us crowd in and watch the drawing. J.B.-that's our president and chief executive-old J.B. decided that it was better to do it that way than to have the punters sneaking away to washrooms and toke shops and pretending they weren't. Better for morale. When one of our people wins one-does happen-she on he gets a fancy cake with sparklers on it, just like a birthday, a gift from old J.B. himself. He comes out and has a piece with the lucky winner."

"Sounds like a happy ship."

"Oh, it is! This is one financial institution where computer crime is unheard of, they all love old J.B." He glanced at his finger. "Let's get on into the conference room."

Mr. Chambers saw to it that we were placed in VIP seats, fetched coffee to us himself, then decided to sit down and watch the drawing.

The terminal screen occupied most of the end wall of the room. We sat through an hour of minor prizes during which the master of ceremonies exchanged utterly sidesplitting jokes with his assistant, mostly about the physical charms of the girl who picked the slips out of the tumble bowl. She clearly had been picked for those physical charms, which were considerable-that and her willingness to wear a costume that not only displayed them but also assured the audience that she was not hiding anything. Each time she plunged in an arm and drew out a lucky number she was dressed principally in a blindfold. It looked like easy pleasant work if the studio was properly heated.

Halfway through there were loud squeals from up front; a MasterCard clerk had won a thousand bruins. Chambers grinned broadly. "Doesn't happen often but when it does, it cheers everyone up for days. Shall we go? No, you still have a ticket that might win, don't you? Unlikely as it is that lightning will strike here twice."

At last with a blare of trumpets we reached the week's grand prize-the "Giant, Supreme, All-California Super Prize!!!" The girl with the goose bumps drew two honorary prizes first, a year's supply of Ukiah Gold with hash pipe, and dinner with the great sensie star Bobby "The Brute" Pizarro.

"Georges," I said. "American Express." Then she drew the last lucky ticket; the master of ceremonies read off the numbers and they appeared in blazing light above his head. "Mr. Zee!" he shouted. "Has the owner registered thi~ number?"

"One moment- No, not registered."

"We have a Cinderella! We have an unknown winner! Somewhere in our great and wonderful Confederacy someone is two hundred thousand bruins richer! Is that child of fortune listening now? Will she-or he-call in and let us put her on the air before this program ends? Or will he wake up tomorrow morning to be told that she is rich? There is the number, folks! It will shine up there until the end of this program, then it will be repeated every news break until fortune's darling claims her prize. And now a message-"

"Friday," Georges whispered, "let me see your ticket."

"Not necessary, Georges," I whispered back. "That's it, all right."

Mr. Chambers stood up. "Show's over. Nice that one of our little family won something. Been a pleasure to have you with us, Miss Baldwin and Mr. Karo-and don't hesitate to call on me if we can help you."

"Mr. Chambers," I asked, "can MasterCard collect this for me? I don't want to do it in person."

Mr. Chambers is a nice man but a touch slow. He had to compare the numbers on my lottery ticket with the numbers still shining on the screen three times before he could believe it. Then Georges had to stop him when he was about to run in all directions, to order a photographer, call National Lottery headquarters, send for a holovision crew-and just as well that Georges stopped him because I might have been rough about it. I get annoyed by big males who won't listen to my objections.

"Mr. Chambers!" Georges said. "Didn't you hear her? She does not want to do it in person. No publicity."

"What? But the winners are always in the news; that's routine! This won't take a moment if that's what's worrying you because- you remember the girl who won earlier?-about now she is being photographed with J. B. and her cake. Let's go straight to his office and-"

Georges is not slow-and I wouldn't mind marrying him if Janet ever turned him loose. "Mr. Chambers," he said quickly, "what is the address of the San Jose main office of American Express?"

Chambers' four-winds flight stopped abruptly. "What did you say?"

"Can you tell us the address of American Express? Miss Baldwin will take her winning ticket there for collection. I will call ahead and make sure that they understand that banking privacy is a requisite.

"But you can't do that. She won it here."

"We can and we will. She did not win it here. She simply happened to be here when the drawing took place elsewhere. Please stand aside; we're leaving."

Then we had to do it all over again for J.B. He was a dignified old duck with a cigar in one side of his mouth and sticky white cake icing on his upper lip. He was neither slow nor stupid but he was in the habit of seeing his wishes carried out and Georges had to mention American Express quite loudly before he got it through his skull that I would not hold still for any publicity whatever (Boss would faint!) and that we were about to go to those Rialto moneychangers rather than deal with his firm.

"But Miss Bulgrin is a MasterCard client."

"No," I disagreed. "I had thought that I was a MasterCard client but Mr. Chambers refused to honor my credit. So I'll start an account with American Express. Without photographers."

"Chambers." There was the knell of doom in his voice. "What Is This?"

Chambers explained that my credit card had been issued through the Imperial Bank of Saint Louis.

"A most reputable house," J.B. commented. "Chambers. Issue her another card. On us. At once. And collect her winning ticket for her." He looked at me and took his cigar out of his mouth. "No publicity. The affairs of MasterCard's clients are always confidential. Satisfactory, Miss Walgreen?"

"Quite, sir."

"Chambers. Do it."

"Yes, sir. What credit limit, sir?"

"What extent of credit do you require, Miss Belgium? Perhaps I should ask that in crowns-what is your amount with my colleagues

in Saint Louis?" -

"I am a gold client, sir. My account is always reckoned in bullion rather than crowns under their two-tier method for gold customers. Can we figure it that way? You see, I'm not used to thinking in bruins. I travel so much that it is easier for me to think in grams of gold." (It is almost unfair to mention gold to a banker in asoft-currency country; it clouds his thinking.)

"You wish to pay in gold?"

"If I may. By draft in grams, three nines, on Ceres and South Africa Acceptances, Luna City office. Would that be satisfactory? I usually pay quarterly-you see, I travel so much-but I can instruct C. and S. A. A. to pay you monthly if quarterly is not convenient."

"Quarterly is quite satisfactory." (Of course it was-the interest charges pile up.)

"Now the credit limit- Truthfully, sir, I don't like to place too much of my financial activity in any one bank or any one country. Shall we hold it down to thirty kilos?"

"If that is your wish, Miss Bedlam. If you ever wish to increase it, just let us know." He added, "Chambers. Do it."

So we went back to the same office in which I had been told that my credit was no good. Mr. Chambers offered me an application form. "Let me help you fill it out, miss."

I glanced at it. Parents' names. Grandparents' names. Place and date of birth. Addresses including street numbers for the past fifteen years. Present employer. Past employer immediately preceding. Reason for leaving past employment. Present rate of pay. Bank accounts. Three references from persons who have known you at least ten years. Have you ever applied for bankruptcy or had a petition of involuntary receivership filed against you or been a director or responsible officer of any business, partnership, or corporation that has applied for reorganization under paragraph thirteen of Public Law Ninety-Seven of the California Confederacy Civil Code? Have you ever been convicted of- "Friday. No."

"So I was about to say." I stood up.

Georges said, "Good-bye, Mn. Chambers."

"Something wrong?"

"But yes. Your employer told you to issue to Miss Baldwin a gold credit card with a limit of thirty kilograms, fine gold; he did not tell you to subject her to an impertinent quiz."

"But this is a routine require-"

"Never mind. Just tell J.B. you flubbed again."

Our Mn. Chambers turned a light green. "Do please sit down."

Ten minutes later we left, me with a brand-new gold-colored credit card good anywhere (I hoped). In exchange I had listed my Saint Louis P.O. box number, my next-of-kin address (Janet), and my account number in Luna City with a written instruction to bill C and S.A.A., Ltd. quarterly for my debts. I also had a comfortable wad of bruins and another like it of crowns, and a receipt for my lottery ticket.

We left the building, crossed the corner into National Plaza, found a bench, and sat down. It was just eighteen, pleasantly cool but the sun was still high above the Santa Cruz Mountains.

Georges inquired, "Dear Friday, what are your wishes?"

"To sit here for a moment and collect my thoughts. Then I should buy you a drink. I won a lottery; that calls for buying a drink. At least."

"At least," he agreed. "You won two hundred thousand bruins for... twenty bruins?"

"A dollar," I agreed. "I tipped her the change."

"Near enough. You won about eight thousand dollars."

"Seventy-four hundred and seven dollars and some cents."

"Not a fortune but a respectable sum of money."

"Quite respectable," I agreed, "for a woman who started the day dependent on the charity of friends. Unless I'm credited something for my 'adequate' performance last night."

"My brother Ian would prescribe a fat lip for that remark. I wanted to add that, while seventy-four hundred is a respectable sum, I find myself more impressed by the fact that, with no assets other than that lottery ticket, you persuaded a most conservative credit banking firm to extend to you an open account in the amount of a

million dollars, reckoned in gold. How did you do it, dear? You didn't even wiggle. Not even a sultry tone of voice."

"But, Georges, you caused them to issue me their band."

"I don't think so. Oh, I did try to back your play... but you initiated each move."

"Not the one about that horrid questionnaire! You got me out of that."

"Oh. That silly ass had no business quizzing you. His boss had already ordered him to issue the card."

"You saved me. I was about to lose my nerve. Georges-dear Georges!-I know that you have told me that I must not be uneasy about what I am-and I'm trying, I truly am!-but to be faced with a form that demands to know all about my parents and grandparents-it's dismaying!"

"Can't expect you to get well overnight. We'll keep working on it. You certainly did not lose your nerve oven how much credit to ask."

"Oh. I once heard someone say"-it was Boss-"that it was much easier to borrow a million than it was to borrow ten. So when they asked me, that's what I named. Not quite a million BritCan dollars. Nine hundred and sixty-four thousand, about."

"I'm not going to quibble. When we passed nine hundred thousand I ran out of oxygen. Adequate one, do you know what a professor is paid?"

"Does it matter? From what I know of the profession one successful new design of a living artifact can pay in the millions. Even millions of grams, rather than dollars. Haven't you had any successful designs? Or is that a rude question?"

"Let's change the subject. Where are we sleeping tonight?"

"We could be in San Diego in forty minutes. On in Las Vegas in thirty-five. Each has advantages and disadvantages for getting into the Impenium. Georges, now that I have enough money, I'm going to report in, no matter how many fanatics are assassinating officials. But I promise cross-my-heart to visit Winnipeg just as soon as I have a few days' leave."

"I may still be unable to return to Winnipeg."

"Or I'll come visit you in Montréal. Look, dear, we'll swap all the

addresses we have; I'm not going to lose you. You not only assure me that I'm human, you tell me that I'm adequate-you're good for my morale. Now choose, for I'll take either one: San Diego and talk Spanglish, or Vegas and look at pretty naked ladies."