He sagged against the corner of the desk, his face pale. His hands
shook. Where were the kredits? What had Nestor done with them? Sweat
broke out on his forehead. Steady, Steady--he dragged himself back from
panic. His mind worked. Let's see. Central National is the biggest of
the repositories; Nestor held the working capital down there. If he
converted the kredits, they'd know. He'd tell them; he's dealt with
them for over eighty years. I'd better go down and find out. I'll tell
them.... He was busy, his mind churning and twisting, concocting a
story....
He felt much better as he walked toward the study door. Thoughts
intent on Judy, green-eyed, red-lipped, curvaceous Judy, and on the
kredits certain to be invested somewhere in the maze of holdings, he
stepped over the pile of smashed tubes, twisted relays and scorched
tensit wires that had been Nestor. He eyed the pile. Nestor, he
reflected, has met with an unavoidable accident. An accident,
coincident with a tube failure on Nestor's part, whereby the ground
scooter broke its electronic control and ran over the robot. And in the
same line of thought ... I shall have to drag him over and stack him in
front of the garage and use the wheel wrench on the fenders and head
lamps of the scooter. They shall have to be battered to show that....
* * * * *
He was smiling as he started for the big, eight-sided structure,
Central National.... A four square trip, and one which Nestor had made
earlier in the day....
Vice-president Milligan, a thin, narrow-shouldered man who affected a
pince-nez greeted Lowndes. He offered a cool hand: "Mr. Lowndes, this
is indeed a pleasure. We don't see you down here very often. Have a
seat."
"No, not very often," said Harry, dropping the hand and sitting down,
"Nestor handles the accounts."
"Well, Mr. Lowndes, what can we do for you?"
"Mr. Milligan, Nestor has suddenly blown a tube and has decided to turn
in for an overhaul."
"Sorry to hear that. These tube failures can be so sudden. Matter of
fact, I believe I saw Nestor in our investment department an hour or so
ago."
"That's right, he was," said Lowndes. "But after the tube blew, he
became very concerned as to whether the balance he showed in the
ledgers was correct." Lowndes smiled, "I told him I'd find out, Mr.
Milligan. Sort of humor him, y'know."
Milligan rose, pulled his pince-nez out of his suit pocket and placed
it squarely on the tip of his nose. He looked over at Lowndes and said,
"Mr. Lowndes, you are fortunate to have Nestor handle the financial
affairs for the estate. Your father showed exceptional judgment in the
selection. Naturally, we at Central National were elated--why, we've
held your family's finances and dealt through Nestor for over eighty
years. In fact, ever since your father organized Lowndes Methodical
Investments." Milligan started for the door, "Now," he said, "if you'll
excuse me, I'll go and check on the accounts balance."
He came back frowning. He removed the pince-nez from his nose and held
it in his hand. He appeared concerned. "Mr. Lowndes," he said, "Nestor
has closed out the accounts. Every kredit has been withdrawn--not only
here, but in all our correspondent repositories." He paced back and
forth in front of Lowndes. He stopped, peered down and added, "A five
hundred thousand withdrawal, Mr. Lowndes."
"Five hundred thousand," repeated Harry. He reached for his
handkerchief. His forehead was beginning to bead with sweat.
"We have explicit confidence in Nestor's ability, Mr. Lowndes
but--" Milligan looked sharply at Harry. "Are you sure he hasn't
had an unreported tube failure during the past few days? After all,
withdrawing five hundred thousand kredits--" he broke off.
"Five hundred thousand kredits!" said Harry.
"I agree with you, Mr. Lowndes. Indeed a sizable amount." Milligan
gave a weak laugh. "Naturally," he continued, "we are loath to lose
an account of this size. That is the reason I inquired as to possible
failure on Nestor's cranial range. His actions certainly have been
strange--"
Lowndes interrupted, "What? What's strange? He was all right this
morning."
Milligan was agitated. "Are you sure, Mr. Lowndes? First of all, Nestor
told Farrell, our investment man that we Cornusians were headed for
a recession of even greater severity than that experienced by the
ancients in the twenty-ninth year of the twentieth century."
Lowndes' hands were shaking. He fumbled for a Martian rolled plovur,
lit it and inhaled the greenish fumes. "Why," he said, "Nestor told me
the same thing this morning. What does that prove?"
Milligan stared at the greenish fumes with distaste. He did not smoke.
He said shortly, "Allow me to continue, M. Lowndes. I am as distressed
by this affair as you are. After all, five hundred thousand kredits."
He broke off, eyed the green fumes curling from the tip of Lowndes'
plovur, then continued, "Frankly, Mr. Lowndes, I never heard of
anything so fantastic."
Lowndes couldn't control his hands. He dropped the plovur on the
carpet. He stood. He couldn't control his shaking legs. He grasped the
edge of Milligan's desk. "What-dya mean, you never heard of anything so
fantastic?" he croaked weakly. "What'd Nestor tell Farrell he was going
to do with the kredits?"
Milligan's face blanched. His voice in turn quavered. "What? You mean
_you_ don't know? Why, Nestor told Farrell he was going to tell you--in
case an emergency came up. Farrell says Nestor walked out of here with
a great big grip jammed full of the kredits. Said he was going to
_bury_ them. Said he'd be back and redeposit them after the recession
was going good--when a kredit would be worth a kredit!"