Mister Henderson called me into his office my third day back in
Tangiers. That was a day and a half later than I'd expected. Roving
claims investigators for Tangiers Mutual Insurance Corporation don't
usually get to spend more than thirty-six consecutive hours at home
base.
Henderson was jovial but stern. That meant he was happy with the job I'd
just completed, and that he was pretty sure I'd find some crooked
shenanigans on this next assignment. That didn't please me. I'm
basically a plain-living type, and I hate complications. I almost wished
for a second there that I was back on Fire and Theft in Greater New
York. But I knew better than that. As a roving claim investigator, I
avoided the more stultifying paper work inherent in this line of work
and had the additional luxury of an expense account nobody ever
questioned.
It made working for a living almost worthwhile.
When I was settled in the chair beside his desk, Henderson said, "That
was good work you did on Luna, Ged. Saved the company a pretty pence."
I smiled modestly and said, "Thank you, sir." And reflected to myself
for the thousandth time that the company could do worse than split that
saving with the guy who'd made it possible. Me, in other words.
"Got a tricky one this time, Ged," said my boss. He had done his
back-patting, now we got down to business. He peered keenly at me, or at
least as keenly as a round-faced tiny-eyed fat man _can_ peer. "What do
you know about the Risk Profession Retirement Plan?" he asked me.
"I've heard of it," I said truthfully. "That's about all."
He nodded. "Most of the policies are sold off-planet, of course. It's a
form of insurance for non-insurables. Spaceship crews, asteroid
prospectors, people like that."
"I see," I said, unhappily. I knew right away this meant I was going to
have to go off-Earth again. I'm a one-gee boy all the way. Gravity
changes get me in the solar plexus. I get g-sick at the drop of an
elevator.
* * *
"Here's the way it works," he went on, either not noticing my sad face
or choosing to ignore it. "The client pays a monthly premium. He can be
as far ahead or as far behind in his payments as he wants--the policy
has no lapse clause--just so he's all paid up by the Target Date. The
Target Date is a retirement age, forty-five or above, chosen by the
client himself. After the Target Date, he stops paying premiums, and we
begin to pay him a monthly retirement check, the amount determined by
the amount paid into the policy, his age at retiring, and so on. Clear?"
I nodded, looking for the gimmick that made this a paying proposition
for good old Tangiers Mutual.
"The Double R-P--that's what we call it around the office here--assures
the client that he won't be reduced to panhandling in his old age,
should his other retirement plans fall through. For Belt prospectors, of
course, this means the big strike, which maybe one in a hundred find.
For the man who never does make that big strike, this is something to
fall back on. He can come home to Earth and retire, with a guaranteed
income for the rest of his life."