F. Wilson - An Enemy of the State

“It's probably nothing of any real importance, but there's always the chance that Haworth has come up with some sort of brainstorm to temporarily pull them out of the current crunch…”

“I thought you had all exits covered,” Broohnin said, barely hiding a sneer. “Afraid Haworth'll slip something past you?”

“With a man like Haworth around, it doesn't pay to get overconfident. He's shrewd, he's sly, he's smart, and he's ruthless. I'll be anxious to see what comes out of this meeting.”

“I'd worry along with you if I could,” Zack said. “But since you're the only one who knows where all this is taking us, I'm afraid you're going to have to sleep with those worries alone.” He paused, watching LaNague closely. “I do have a few ideas about your plan, however, gathered from what I've seen and heard during the past year.”

“Keep them to yourself, please.”

“I will. But do you actually think there's any way Haworth or anybody else can turn this whole thing around?”

LaNague shook his head. “No. The Imperium has started its descent and only magic can save it.”

“Well, let's just hope Haworth doesn't know any magic,” Zack said.

“He might. But just in case they run dry of things to say at the meeting, I think Robin Hood should be able to find a way to keep the conversation going.”

It's no good, Vin. He's not coming.”

“Yes, he is. He's got to come.” As persistent and patient and straight as a tree rooted in the soil, Vincen Stafford stood with his arm around his wife's shoulders and waited in the back yard of what had once been their house. It stood locked, barred, and empty behind him as he watched the sky. Better to stare into the empty blackness above them than to stare into the empty bleakness of the structure behind. The house had become the symbol of all his failures and of all the things that had failed him. He couldn't bear to look at it.

The drop-off in grain runs to Sol System had started it all, causing him to be bumped from one scheduled flight after another due to his lack of seniority. Finally, he had been laid off. The imperial Grain Export Authority had let him down-promising him full-time employment when he signed on, and then leaving him grounded. That was bad, but he knew he could make it through on his unemployment benefits from the Spacers Guild. Salli had a part-time job and they had a little money in the bank. It would be tight, but they could squeak through until something broke loose for him.

But the only things that broke loose were prices. Everything except grain seemed to cost more-food, clothing, transportation, everything. Only his mortgage payment had remained fixed. The bank had tried to get him to refinance at a higher interest rate but he had resisted, despite the advice of the Robin Hood Reader to borrow all he could and invest it in gold and silver. That, he now realized, had been his biggest blunder. As daily living expenses went up, he and Salli had found it harder and harder to scrape together the mortgage payments each month. Their savings were soon gone and the bank was soon penalizing them for late payments.

Then catastrophe: the Spacers Guild cut his benefits in half due to the drain put on its finances by heavy layoffs. Then the benefits stopped altogether; the Spacers Guild had arbitrarily cut him off in order to concentrate benefits on the senior members. Even his union had let him down.

Vin and Salli had immediately tried to refinance the house, but the bank was no longer interested. Mortgage money had dried up and there was none to spare for an out-of-work interstellar navigator. They put the house on the market, but with so little mortgage money around, nobody was buying at the current inflated prices. They missed payments; the bank foreclosed. They were locked out of their own home.

Vincen Stafford was now at the lowest point of his entire life. He and Salli lived in a shabby one-room apartment in the dolee section of town…and why not? He was on the dole.

When they weren't screaming at each other, they sat in stony silence across the room from each other. Only tonight had brought them together. Robin Hood was coming.

“He's not going to show, Vin,” Salli said. “Now let's go home.”

“Home? We have no home. It was taken from us. And he is coming. Just wait a little longer. You'll see.”

Robin Hood was just about the only thing on this world or any other that Vincen Stafford had left to hold onto. When the first “money monsoon” had come, he had turned in the money he had collected. At that time it seemed like the right thing to do…after all, the money belonged to the Imperium. And when he analyzed it to any depth, he admitted that he had hoped his name would show up somewhere on a list of exemplary citizens and he would have a crack at the next grain run out, seniority or no. But that hadn't happened. He hadn't made a single run since. His friends had laughed at his naïveté then, and he cursed himself for it now. What he wouldn't give to have those mark notes in his hand right now. A year and a half could make a lot of changes in a man.

If only he'd listened to that newsletter and followed its advice. He knew a couple of men his age who had done just that-refinanced their homes, borrowed to the limit of their credit, and invested it all in gold and silver and other precious metals. One had used the profits from the soaring prices of the commodities to supplement his income and keep him in the black and in his home. Another had let the bank repossess his home and had moved into an apartment. He was now sitting on a pile of gold coins that was growing more and more valuable every day while the bank was stuck with a house it couldn't sell.

Vincen Stafford wasn't going to get caught looking the other way this time. Robin Hood and his Merry Men had robbed a currency shipment this morning; if they held true to form, there'd be money raining down soon.

“This is ridiculous,” Salli said. “I'm going back to the apartment. You heard what they said on the vid. He's not coming.”

Stafford nodded in the darkness. “I heard what they said. But I don't believe it.” Police authorities had been on the air all day telling the public that Robin Hood and his Merry Men were now robbing tax collections and keeping the money for personal uses, showing themselves for the common thieves and renegades they really were. Anyone waiting for another “money monsoon” would be bitterly disappointed. But Stafford didn't believe it. Couldn't-wouldn't believe it.

One of the stars winked out overhead, then another to its left. Then the original star came on again.

“Wait!” he told Salli, reaching for her arm. “Something's up there!”

“Where? I don't see anything.”

“That's the whole idea.”

When the first mark notes began slipping down into sight, a great cheer was heard all over the neighborhood…Stafford and his wife were not alone in their nocturnal vigil.

“Look, Vin!” Salli said excitedly. “It's really happening. I can't believe it! It's money!” She began scrambling around the yard, picking up the mark notes, disregarding the white calling cards. “Come on, Vin! Help!”

Vincen Stafford found himself unable to move just yet. He merely stood with his face tilted upward, tears streaming down his cheeks, silent sobs wracking his chest.

At least there was still somebody left you could count on.

“…AND IT APPEARS that Robin Hood and his Merry Men have lowered their sights, physically and figuratively. After more than seven months of inaction since the costly east coast caper, with only the caustic, omnipresent Robin Hood Reader as evidence of his continued presence among us, Robin Hood has struck again. A ground effect vehicle, carrying a large shipment of fresh currency from the Central Treasury to the North Sector branch of the First Outworld Bank of Primus, was waylaid on the streets of the city early this morning.