Robert Asprin - The Cold Cash War

Beckington gestured angrily. Aki set the papers down and retreated toward the other end of the terminal.

"Boy, that really frosts me. I mean, some people think just 'cause they're in another country they can get away with murder."

"Yeah, people like that really burn me, too," said Tidwell drily. The sarcasm was lost.

"Where were we? Oh yeah. I was going to buy you boys a drink. You ready?"

"Actually, we can't."

"Can't-why not?"

"Actually, we're with Alcoholics Anonymous. We're here to open a new branch," interrupted Clancy.

"Alcoholics Anonymous?"

"Yes," said Tidwell blandly. "On the national board, actually."

"But I thought you were drinking on the plane."

"Oh, that," interrupted Clancy. "Actually it was iced tea. We've found that lecturing people while we're traveling just alienates them, so we try to blend with the crowd until we have time to do some real work."

"Have you ever stopped to think what alcohol does to your nervous system? If you can hold on a second we've got some pamphlets here you could read."

Tidwell started rummaging energetically in his flight bag.

"Ah...actually I've got to run now. Nice talking with you boys."

He edged backward, started away toward the bar, then turned, smiled, and made a beeline for the men's room.

Tidwell collapsed in laughter.

"Alcoholics...Oh Christ, Clancy, where do you come up with those from anyway?"

"Huh? Oh, just a quickie. It got rid of him, didn't it?"

"I'll say. Well, let's go before he comes back."

"Um, can we stall here for a few minutes, Steve?"

Tidwell stopped laughing in mid-breath.

"What is it? Trouble?"

"Nothing definite. Don't want to worry you if it's nothing. just talk about something for a few minutes."

"Terrific. Remind me to fire you for insubordination. How about that Aki? Do you believe he managed to keep his cool through all that crap?"

"Uh-huh."

"That Beckington is a real shit. If we weren't under contract, I'd like nothing better than realigning his face a little."

"Uh-huh."

"Dammit, that's enough! If you don't tell me what's up, I'll cut your liquor allotment!"

"Well...we might have a little problem."

"C'mon, Clancy!"

"You saw where Beckington went?"

"Yeah, into the men's room. So?"

"So, Aki's in there."

"What?"

"Doubled back and ducked in while we were doing the A.A. bit with Beckington. Probably needed to take a painkiller."

"Who else is in there?"

"Just the two of them."

"Christ! You don't think Aki..."

"Not out here in the open, but it must be awfully tempting in there."

The two men studied the ceiling in silence for several moments. Still no one emerged from the men's room. Finally Tidwell heaved a sigh and started for the door. Clancy held up a hand.

"C'mon Steve. Why not let him..."

"Because we can't afford any attention. None at all. All we need is to have them detain all the Orientals in the airport for a police investigation. Now let's go!"

The mercenaries started for the door. Tidwell raised his hand to push his way in, and the door opened.

"Oh, hi boys. How's the 'dry' business? Just do me a favor and don't close down the bars until after I've left the country, know what I mean?"

"Um...sure, Harry. Just for you."

"Well, see you around."

He brushed past them and strode toward the bar.

Almost mechanically, the two mercenaries pushed open the door and entered the washroom. Aki looked up inquiringly as he dried his hands on a blow-jet.

"Um...are you okay, Aki?"

"Certainly, Mr. Tidwell. Why do you ask?"

The two men shifted uncomfortably.

"We...ah...we just thought that after what happened outside..."

Aki frowned for a moment, then suddenly smiled with realization.

"Ah! I see. You feared that I might...Mr. Tidwell, I am a mercenary under contract. Rest assured I would do nothing to draw needless attention to our force or myself."

With that, the three mercenaries headed out into the terminal to continue the invasion.

Wolfe! Big Bad Wolfe! So he was finally going to talk to Wolfe.

Pete took the corner with an almost military precision. As usual, the executive corridor was empty. Bad for one's image to be caught loitering in the corridor. Without people, all efforts to make the hall seem warm and friendly through the use of pictures, hangings, or statues failed miserably. It always looked like you were on your way to a fallout shelter or a secret underground military installation.

After three days, Wolfe had finally sent for him. Well, Petey boy'd have a word or two for him.

He winced at his own false bravado. Who's kidding whom, Pete? You're scared. No...not scared. Nervous. Okay...admit it. Drag it out and let's have a look at it.

Something's wrong. Very wrong. Not just that I didn't get the number one spot. Something else. After three weeks as acting head of the section, Wolfe shows up. Wolfe, of all people! Wolfe is notorious as a trouble-shooter and axeman here at the corporation. His stay in any job was usually brief and always bloody. So what? I've survived purges before. Yes, but he's been here three days and this will be my first time to see him alone. Usually a second in command works close with the new chief, shows him the ropes and points out the rough spots. Panic tactics. Yes...that's it. Let me sweat it out for three days, then the mysterious summons and I'll open up like a steamed clam, rat on everybody. That must be what he's doing. Well, it's working!

Okay! You've admitted it. Now take a deep breath and play it with a little style.

Right! Wolfe's door loomed before him. He took a deep breath, raised a knuckle, and tapped twice softly.

One...two...three heartbeats. Five. The light above the door flashed green. He turned the knob and entered.

Wolfe beamed at him as he rose from the desk. California casual and used car friendly.

"Come in, Hornsby. It's Pete, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's Emil. Please, no formality."

They shook hands and Wolfe waved him into a chair.

"Sorry we haven't gotten together sooner, but we've got quite a problem here."

"That was obvious when they called you in." Pete smiled back at him.

"Oh?" Wolfe seemed both surprised and amused. "How so?"

"Well...you...that is, you have a bit of a reputation..."

"...As an axeman?" Wolfe dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Quite exaggerated, I assure you. A bit annoying, actually. Makes people shy away from me."

"Oh, sorry I mentioned it."

"Quite the contrary, always glad to get a little feedback. Now, where were we?"

"The problem."

"Oh, yes! We have quite a problem. That problem, Pete, is you!"

"Me, sir?" Pete felt his hands starting to fidget.

"Yes. This is the second time you've been passed over for promotion, isn't it?"

"Well...yes...but I've been moving up. Slow and steady."

"Still, it's not a good sign."

"I've been pretty tied up on this war thing."

"It seems to indicate you aren't developing as fast as we hoped, or you hoped, for that matter," Wolfe continued as if he hadn't heard.

"But I haven't had a chance to get to know..."

"So we've worked up a plan for your leaving. It involves six months on full pay and another..."

"Now just a damn minute!" Pete was on his feet.

"Sit down, Peter. There's no need to shout."

"If you aren't happy with my performance, there are other alternatives, you know! I've been thinking of putting in for a transfer."

"Pete, I'm trying to be pleasant about..."

"What about a transfer!"

"Look, Hornsby!" Wolfe's face was grim. "I've been trying to get you transferred! For a week before I came and for the last three days! Nobody wants you! Now sit down!"