Throy Page 9

  “Yonder comes the cab. Once we are underway, you can remove your disguise; otherwise the bank officials will think you eccentric.”

  Kathcar gave a croak of raucous mirth. “So long as they smell money they will welcome me with delight! However, all else aside, these sacerdotal boots torment my feet; the disguise has served its purpose.”

  “That is my opinion, as well. Here is the cab. The plan is this: at the bank we shall pull up to the side entrance. Chilke and I will escort you into the bank; then, once we take care of our business, we can confer upon our primary goal: which is to locate Barduys.”

  Kathcar scowled. “All very well, but the plan must be modified. I will deal with the bank officials in private; it is the most expeditious way to handle this affair.”

  “Not so,” said Glawen, smiling. “You will be surprised how well we work together.”

  The cab arrived; for a moment Kathcar held back, then with a muffled curse he thrust himself into the passenger compartment. The cab set off along the orderly avenues of Soumjiana: through the semi-industrial suburb Urcedes, past the Gastronomical Institute and the adjacent lake, then along the wide Boulevard of Acclaimanders, with its rows of monumental black iron statues to either side, each representing a grandee of substance and reputation; past the Tydor Baunt University, and its complex of ancillary structures, all built of taffy-colored rock foam in a ponderous, almost over-elaborate mode derived from the ancient ‘Spano-Barsile’ sequence. Students from everywhere across Soum and from up and down the Wisp sauntered along the malls or sat on the benches.

  The cab entered the Pars Pancrator Plaza and halted beside the Bank of Soumjiana. Kathcar had doffed his disguise and now wore narrow black trousers, sandals, a casual white jacket and a loose-brimmed white hat of the sort worn by sportsmen, pulled low over his lank black locks.

  Glawen and Chilke alighted. They looked up and down the street, finding nothing to excite their apprehension. Kathcar jumped from the cab and in three quick strides had gained the relative security of the bank. Glawen and Chilke followed with less haste. Once again Kathcar declared that he must deal privately with the bank officials, since Sir Denzel’s affairs were all highly confidential. Glawen refused to hear his arguments. “Naturally you want to do well for yourself, but this, at the basis, is Conservancy business, and I cannot allow you to take charge of Sir Denzel’s accounts.”

  “That is a tendentious assertion!” stormed Kathcar. “You impugn my integrity!”

  “Chilke and I are Bureau B officials; we are skeptics by profession.”

  “Even so, I must protect my interests, which are legitimate!”

  “We shall see,” said Glawen. “Who is the official in authority?”

  “So far as I know, it is still Lothar Vambold.”

  Glawen summoned an usher. “We must see Mr. Lothar Vambold at once. Our business is urgent and cannot wait.”

  The usher glanced at Kathcar, raised his eyebrows and moved half a step backward, then acknowledged Glawen’s wishes with a stiff nod. “Sir, it is our policy to regard everyone’s business as urgent. Therefore -”

  “Ours, however, cannot wait. Take us to Mr. Vambold.”

  The usher drew back another half step. He spoke in a rich and deliberate accent: “The officer to whom you allude is a Senior Account Administrator; he never grants interviews without references and a preliminary discussion with junior officers, who are usually able to assist with your needs. I suggest you step over to the wicket yonder, and in due course someone will speak to you.”

  “Mr. Vambold will speak to me. Announce Commander Glawen Clattuc and Commander Eustace Chilke, of the

  Cadwal Constabulary. Make haste, or I will arrest you for impeding justice!”

  The usher said haughtily: “This is Soum, nor Cadwal, wherever that is. Have you not wandered past the limits of your jurisdiction?”

  “We hold equivalent rank in the IPCC.”

  The usher bowed stiffly. “Just a moment, sir. I will convey your message, and perhaps Overman Vambold will agree to make an appointment.”

  “An appointment for now,” said Glawen. “We are here on a matter of immediate concern.”

  The usher performed the most perfunctory bow permitted him by bank protocol and departed. Kathcar immediately turned to frown down upon Glawen. “I must point out that your manner is incorrect, and close upon arrogance. The Soumi put a premium upon gentility, which they consider high among the virtues.”

  “What?” cried Chilke. “Not twenty minutes ago you wanted to rush in here wearing black robes and a bonnet with earflaps. You said it made no difference what anyone thought!”

  “So I did. But I am a man of inherent high caste which the underling would have recognized instantly.”

  “He seemed hardly to notice you.”

  “Conditions were different.”

  “We will consider your interests when we confer with Overman Vambold.”

  “It is always the way,” grieved Kathcar. “Never have I found the frank and loyal trust which is my due.”

  “A great pity,” said Glawen.

  Kathcar drew a deep breath and squared his thin shoulders. “I am not one to complain; I face always forward. When we meet with Overman Vambold, I will lead the discussion, since I am adept with the requisite niceties.”

  “As you like. But I suggest that you say nothing of Sir Denzel’s death. The news might limit our freedom of action.”

  “This is my own opinion,” said Kathcar coldly. “It is best to keep all options open.”

  “One more point: remember that you are speaking not for yourself but for the Conservancy.

  “These are artificial distinctions,” growled Kathcar.

  The usher returned. “Overman Vambold has a moment or two to spare. Come with me, please.”

  The three visitors were conducted along a corridor to a door carved from a single slab of rosewood, which slid open to the usher’s touch.

  “Sirs, Overman Vambold awaits you.”

  Glawen, Chilke and Kathcar entered a high-ceilinged chamber of remarkable opulence. A soft black carpet cushioned the floor. At the far end of the room windows overlooked Pars Pancrator Plaza. To the left pilasters of fluted marble delineated bays inlaid with patterned malachite. To the right the bays were faced with white marble; in front of each a marble pedestal supported a black iron bust, honoring a notable who had contributed to the success of the bank.

  An odd and unusual room! thought Glawen. There was neither desk, nor work area, nor chairs of any sort, nor couch, sofa, or divan. The single article of furniture was a small kidney-shaped table, with spindly legs and a top surface inlaid with waxen white nephrite. Beside this table stood a man of middle age and middle stature, delicate of bone structure but modestly plump, with cool amber eyes, a long austere nose, a skin as pale and smooth as the nephrite of the tabletop. A crop of tight brown curls clasped his head in a style crisp and artificial. The curls seemed to glisten, as if held in place by varnish, suggesting the decadence of an era long past.

  Overman Vambold’s manner was neutral. “Gentlemen, I am told that your business is urgent and requires my instant attention.”

  “True, to the iota!” declared Kathcar. He took a step forward. “I see that you do not remember me. I am Rufo Kathcar, aide to Sir Denzel of Stroma. He maintains an account here at the bank.”

  Overman Vambold appraised Kathcar with the detachment of a scientist studying an unfamiliar insect. Then, though not a muscle of his face shifted, his manner underwent a significant change. “Ah yes! I now recall our meeting. Sir Denzel is a gentleman of distinction. I trust that his health is good?”

  “As good as can be expected, when all is taken with all,” said Kathcar.

  “I am pleased to hear this. And these gentlemen?”

  “They are my associates, Commander Clattuc and Commander Chilke, of the Cadwal Constabulary. With all respect, I must reiterate that our business demands instant action, before irreversible damage is
done.”

  “Just so. In which direction must we exert our speed?”

  “It is in connection with Sir Denzel’s accounts.”

  “Ah yes! I have had notice of your imminent arrival.”

  With an effort Kathcar controlled his surprise. “Who gave you this information?”

  Overman Vambold evaded a direct response. “Let us move to where we may confer in comfort.” He went to the wall and tapped a silver escutcheon; the malachite panel slid aside. “This way, if you please.”

  The group filed through the opening into a conventional office, furnished with the usual worktable, chairs, and implements. Glawen now understood the function of the elegant chamber they had just vacated: it was a waystation where importunate persons could be extended a few moments’ solicitude, then referred to a sub-official and eased back into the corridor. In the absence of appropriate furniture, the interlopers need not be asked to sit: a tactic which would expedite their departure.

  Overman Vambold indicated chairs and settled himself at his desk. He spoke, choosing his words with precision. “Am I correct in assuming that you are here to refresh Sir Denzel’s account?”

  Kathcar exclaimed in astonishment. “Eh then! Where did you hear this bit of news?”

  Overman Vambold smiled politely. “We hear many rumors. This one is not unreasonable, in view of recent rather frantic activity.”

  Kathcar’s apprehensions were now fully aroused. He cried out: “Exactly what has been going on? Inform me at once!”

  “Yes, of course,” said Overman Vambold. “But tell me this: have you in fact brought new funds to Sir Denzel’s account?”

  “Absolutely not! To the contrary!”

  “That is interesting news,” said Overman Vambold. If anything, he seemed relieved, rather than otherwise, by the emphatic statements.

  Kathcar, however, had become exasperated by Overman Vambold’s evasiveness. “Please explain what is going on, and with clarity! I am bored with your musings and vague hints!”

  Overman Vambold responded with impeccable courtesy. “The circumstances, in themselves, are not limpidly clear, and this is the difficulty. But I will do my best.”

  “Never mind the difficulties! Just present the facts!”

  “The account is in a curious condition. There are physical assets, but the cash balance has been reduced - in a certain sense - to twenty-nine thousand sols.”

  Kathcar cried out in consternation, “What do you mean: ‘in a certain sense’? Your ambiguities leave me in the dark!”

  Glawen interjected a remark. “Take care of the urgent concerns,” he told Kathcar. “Then sort out the curiosities!”

  Kathcar gave a grunt of annoyance. “Yes, yes; quite so.” He addressed himself to Overman Vambold. “Sir Denzel has had reason to distrust the judgment and even the fidelity of his associates. As of this instant he wishes to place his account under stringent control - what there is left of it.” Kathcar produced a document and with an emphatic flourish placed it on the desk. “You may regard this as a formal notification.”

  Overman Vambold lifted the document with fastidious fingers and scrutinized it carefully. “Ah, hmm. Yes. Most interesting.” For a moment he sat motionless, preoccupied with his thoughts. They seemed to amuse him. “I am pleased to receive Sir Denzel’s definite instructions. They have arrived at a timely juncture. I was on the point of paying over sixty-five thousand sols into a special fund.”

  Glawen was astounded. “Sixty-five thousand sols from an account of twenty-nine thousand? That is a financial miracle!”

  Chilke was not impressed and explained the mystery. “It is a special way of moving decimal points. Some bankers back home tried it, but they did not understand the system, so they were caught and sent to jail.”

  Overman Vambold said primly: “We work no miracles, and our decimal points are immutable. At times, however, as in the present case, adroit timing allows us to create some truly remarkable effects.”

  “Explain, if you please!” said Glawen.

  Kathcar cried out: “First - make sure that the account is secure, and that your clerks are not paying out Sir Denzel’s last few sols with both hands!”

  “That is simple enough.” Overman Vambold turned to his work area and touched buttons. A voice spoke: “Account of Sir Denzel Attabus - now isolated.”

  “The deed is done,” said Overman Vambold. “The account is secure.”

  “Now then,” said Kathcar. “What of this draught for sixty-five thousand sols - who issued it, to pay for what and to whom?”

  Overman Vambold hesitated. “These transactions are confidential. I cannot discuss them in the course of casual conversation.”

  “This is not a casual conversation!” thundered Rufo Kathcar. “As Sir Denzel’s agent I am entitled to all knowledge pertinent to his interests! If you withhold information to Sir Denzel’s detriment, you, personally, and the bank, institutionally, will be liable to legal redress. I make this statement before witnesses of good reputation.”

  Overman Vambold smiled a wintry smile. “Your remarks are persuasive - the more so in that they are accurate. As Sir Denzel’s designated representative, you have a right to ask these questions. What of these other gentlemen? Can you guarantee their absolute discretion?”

  “In every respect! They hold commissions in the IPCC, which speaks as to their character. This present affair is of local concern, so for the occasion they are wearing the hats of the Cadwal Constabulary.”

  Overman Vambold nodded, without any great interest. “Across the years I have learned something of Sir Denzel’s moral principles, and clearly they have not been advanced by either Roby Mavil or by Julian Bohost. You demand information, and rightly so, in view of the rather unconventional manipulations which Julian Bohost has attempted.”

  “What, then, are the facts?”

  Overman Vambold leaned back in his chair, and seemed to ponder the shelves at the far end of his office. When he spoke, his voice was relaxed and his manner less brittle. “It is a complex story, and - in a certain sense - amusing, as you will see.” From a slot to the side of his desk he took a sheet of yellow paper, and for a moment studied the material printed on its surface. “Two months ago Sir Denzel’s account stood at one hundred and thirty thousand sols. Then the T. J. Weidler Spaceyards presented a draught for one hundred and one thousand sols in payment for two Straidor-Ferox gunships. The draught had been issued by Roby Mavil and seemed no more than routine business. However, knowing Sir Denzel’s opinions in regard to killing and violence, I was not a little startled by this purchase. In the end I approved the disbursement, since Roby Mavil was one of the three persons authorized to draw on the account - the others being Julian Bohost and Rufo Kathcar. The new balance stood at twenty-nine thousand sols.”

  Glawen jerked forward. “One moment! You are telling us that Roby Mavil used Sir Denzel’s money to buy two gunships?”

  “That is correct.”

  Glawen turned to stare at Kathcar. “You knew this?”

  Kathcar’s shoulders sagged. “The circumstances were not easy. I discovered the gunships in a secret hangar and immediately notified Sir Denzel, who was outraged.”

  “But you failed to notify Bureau B?”

  “It was a complicated situation. I owed three duties: to Bureau B, to Sir Denzel, and to myself. I therefore resolved to report the gunships to Bureau B as soon as I had finished my work at the bank, thus fulfilling all three duties in the most expeditious manner possible.”

  Glawen said nothing. Kathcar found the silence unnerving and turned to Overman Vambold. “Please proceed.”

  Overman Vambold, who had been watching with cool amusement, continued. “Two weeks ago I was tendered another draught, this time to the amount of ten thousand sols, payable to the T. J. Weidler Spaceyards and authorized by Julian Bohost. The sum represented partial payment for a reconditioned Fratzengale passenger transport, leaving a residual balance of sixty-five thousand sols to be paid in thirty
days. The draught was in order, but I did not approve it for payment. Instead, I telephoned Dorcas Fallinch, the sales executive at T. J. Weidler, with whom I have good relations; in fact, we are fellow Syndics at the Murmelian Institute. He told me what I had half-expected: the Fratzengale was an antiquated hulk, not worth serious reconditioning. It had been available for two years but Julian had been the first to show any interest. The thirty-day deadline was meaningless, since no one was about to snatch up the Fratzengale from under Julian’s nose.

  “I remarked that seventy-five thousand sols seemed a viciously inflated price for such a vessel. Fallinch agreed. He would have accepted almost any offer, if only to get the hulk off the premises. The price was unreasonable; he would take the matter up with Hippolyte Bruny, the yard salesman and call me back. There the matter rested. Needless to say, I did not disburse the ten thousand sols deposit on the Fratzengale.

  “Two days later Dorcas Fallinch called me back. The price on the Fratzengale had been fixed by Julian and Hippolyte Bruny, working together. Julian would buy two vessels: the Fratzengale for a premium price and a Fortunatus space yacht at a more modest figure. It was a ploy by which Julian could charge both ships to what he called ‘a fat account’ and take over the Fortunatus for his personal use, while Bruny would enjoy an inflated commission. The beauty of the scheme was that everyone profited and no one would be the wiser.

  “I found this all very interesting and disturbing as well, since the bank, within certain limits, tries to protect its clients from misuse of their funds. Dorcas Fallinch was about to discharge Hippolyte Bruny with prejudice, but I dissuaded him, since I wanted to find how the scheme played itself out.

  “Two days later Julian called upon me. It was the first time I had met him in person. I discovered a tall stylish young man, blond, with fresh and wholesome good looks, though somewhat airy in his mannerisms, as if he wished to be considered both charming and high caste at the same time. He wanted to know why I had not released the ten thousand sols for the Fratzengale deposit. I said that I had not yet taken time to study the transaction. The remark annoyed Julian. He told me that all the study necessary had been performed by himself. The price was not out of line for a vessel of such large capacity and range. He frankly admitted that the vessel lacked cosmetic refinement, but he declared it to be basically solid and sound - in short, a reliable old craft, by no means deluxe, but adequate to the uses for which it would be needed.