"The Dirnan crisis. They don't want a mere interim director handling
things. They feel the man dealing with the aliens ought to have full UN
blessing."
"Should I interpret that to mean I get the job automatically?"
"I couldn't swear to it," said Ludwig. "General consensus certainly
favors you to continue. I'd advise that you show up at the hearing in
person and present your program in detail; otherwise they may stick
some smooth-talking politico in your place. The noise is slated to
start at 1100, day after tomorrow. The eighteenth."
"I'll be there," Walton said. "Thanks for the tip."
He chewed the end of his stylus for a moment, then hastily scribbled
down the appointment. As of now, he knew he couldn't worry too strongly
about events taking place the day after tomorrow--not with Fred
arriving for a show-down the next morning.
* * * * *
The next day began busily enough. Hervey was the first to call.
"The _Citizen's_ sewed up, Roy! I had dinner with Murlin last night and
weaseled him out of four percent of _Citizen_ stock in exchange for a
fancy tip on the new monorail project out Nevada way. He was grinning
all over the place--but I'll bet he's grinning out of the other side of
his mouth this morning."
"Is it all arranged?" Walton asked.
"In the bag. I was up by 0700 and consolidating my holdings--_your_
holdings, I mean. Forty-seven percent of the stock I had fragmented in
a dozen different outfits; the other two percent outstanding belonged
to rich widows who wouldn't sell. I lumped the forty-seven percent
together in your name, then completed the transfer on Murlin's four
percent and stuck that in there too. _Citizen_ telefax is now the
property of Popeek, Roy!"
"Fine work. How much did it cost?"
Then he said, "Four hundred eighty-three million and some change. Plus
my usual five percent commission, which in this case comes to about two
and a quarter million."
"But I offered you five million," Walton said. "That offer still goes."
"You want me to lose my license? I spend years placing bribes to get a
slyster's license, and you want me to throw it away for an extra couple
million? Uh-uh. I'll settle for two and a quarter, and damn good doing
I call that for a day's work."
Walton grinned. "You win. And Sue Llewellyn will be glad to know it
didn't cost the whole billion to grab _Citizen_. You'll be over with
the papers, won't you?"
"About 1000," the slyster said. "I've gotta follow through for Murlin
on his monorail deal first. The poor sucker! See you in an hour."
"Right."
Rapidly Walton scribbled memos. As soon as the papers were in his
hands, he'd serve notice on Murlin that a stock-holders' meeting was
to be held at once. After that, he'd depose Murlin, fire the present
_Citizen_ editors, and pack the telefax sheet with men loyal to Popeek.
Fred was due at 1100. Walton buzzed Keeler, the new security chief, and
said, "Keeler, I have an appointment with someone at 1100. I want you
to station three men outside my door and frisk him for weapons as he
comes in."
"We'd do that anyway, sir. It's standard procedure now."
"Good. But I want you to be one of the three. And make sure the two who
come with you are tight-mouthed. I don't want _any_ newsbreaks on this."
"Right, sir."
"Okay. Be there about 1050 or so. About 1115, I'm going to press
my door opener, and I want you and your men to break in, arrest my
visitor, and spirit him off to the deepest dungeon security has. And
leave him there. If Martinez wants to know what's going on, tell him
I'll take responsibility."
Keeler looked vaguely puzzled, but merely nodded. "We frisk him first,
then let him talk to you for fifteen minutes. Then we come in on signal
and take him away. I've got it."
"This man's a dangerous anti-Popeek conspirator. Make sure he's drugged
before he gets out of my office. I don't want him making noise."
The annunciator sounded. "Man from communications has a message for
you, Mr. Walton."