"Something the matter, Mr. Consul?" Leatherwell demanded.
"It's just that--ah--I seem to recall--as a matter of fact...." Magnan
looked at Retief. Retief took the papers, looked over the top sheet.
"95739-A. Sorry, Mr. Leatherwell. General Minerals has been
anticipated. We're processing a prior claim."
"Prior claim?" Leatherwell barked. "You've issued the grant?"
"Oh, no indeed, Mr. Leatherwell," Magnan replied quickly. "The claim
hasn't yet been processed."
"Then there's no difficulty," Leatherwell boomed. He glanced at his
finger watch. "If you don't mind, I'll wait and take the grant along
with me. I assume it will only take a minute or two to sign it and
affix seals and so on?"
"The other claim was filed a full week ago--" Retief started.
"Bah!" Leatherwell waved a hand impatiently. "These details can
be arranged." He fixed an eye on Magnan. "I'm sure all of us here
understand that it's in the public interest that minerals properties go
to responsible firms, with adequate capital for proper development."
"Why, ah," Magnan said.
"The Sam's Last Chance Number Nine Mining Company is a duly chartered
firm. Their claim is valid."
"I know that hole-in-corner concern," Leatherwell snapped.
"Mere irresponsible opportunists. General Minerals has spent
millions--millions, I say--of the stockholders' funds in minerals
explorations. Are they to be balked in realizing a fair return on their
investment because these ... these ... adventures have stumbled on a
deposit? Not that the property is of any real value, of course," he
added. "Quite an ordinary bit of rock. But General Minerals would find
it convenient to consolidate its holdings."
"There are plenty of other rocks floating around in the Belt. Why not--"
"One moment, Retief," Magnan cut in. He looked across the desk at his
junior with a severe expression. "As Consul-General, I'm quite capable
of determining the relative merits of claims. As Mr. Leatherwell has
pointed out, it's in the public interest to consider the question in
depth."
Leatherwell cleared his throat. "I might state at this time that
General Minerals is prepared to be generous in dealing with these
interlopers. I believe we would be prepared to go so far as to offer
them free title to certain GM holdings in exchange for their release
of any alleged rights to the property in question--merely to simplify
matters, of course."
"That seems more than fair to me," Magnan glowed.
"The Sam's people have a clear priority," Retief said. "I logged the
claim in last Friday."
"They have far from a clear title." Leatherwell snapped. "And I can
assure you GM will contest their claim, if need be, to the Supreme
Court!"
"Just what holdings did you have in mind offering them, Mr.
Leatherwell?" Magnan asked nervously.
Leatherwell reached into his briefcase and drew out a paper.
"2645-P," he read. "A quite massive body. Crustal material, I imagine.
It should satisfy these squatters' desire to own real estate in the
Belt."
"I'll make a note of that," Magnan said, reaching for a pad.
"That's a Bona Fide offer, Mr. Leatherwell?" Retief asked.
"Certainly!"
"I'll record it as such," Magnan said, scribbling.
"And who knows?" Leatherwell said. "It may turn out to contain some
surprisingly rich finds."
"And if they won't accept it?" Retief asked.
"Then I daresay General Minerals will find a remedy in the courts, sir!"
"Oh, I hardly think that will be necessary," Magnan said.
"Then there's another routine matter," Leatherwell said. He passed a
second document across to Magnan. "GM is requesting an injunction to
restrain these same parties from aggravated trespass. I'd appreciate
it if you'd push it through at once. There's a matter of a load of
illegally obtained ore involved, as well."
"Certainly Mr. Leatherwell. I'll see to it myself."
"No need for that. The papers are all drawn up. Our legal department
will vouch for their correctness. Just sign here." Leatherwell spread
out the paper and handed Magnan a pen.
"Wouldn't it be a good idea to read that over first?" Retief said.
* * * * *
Leatherwell frowned impatiently. "You'll have adequate time to
familiarize yourself with the details later, Retief," Magnan snapped,
taking the pen. "No need to waste Mr. Leatherwell's valuable time." He
scratched a signature on the paper.
Leatherwell rose, gathered up his papers from Magnan's desk, dumped
them into the briefcase. "Riff-raff, of course. Their kind has no
business in the Belt."
Retief rose, crossed to the desk, and held out a hand. "I believe you
gathered in an official document along with your own, Mr. Leatherwell.
By error, of course."
"What's that?" Leatherwell bridled. Retief smiled, waiting. Magnan
opened his mouth.
"It was under your papers, Mr. Leatherwell," Retief said. "It's the
thick one, with the rubber bands."
Leatherwell dug in his briefcase, produced the document. "Well, fancy
finding this here," he growled. He shoved the papers into Retief's hand.
"You're a very observant young fellow." He closed the briefcase with a
snap. "I trust you'll have a bright future with the CDT."
"Really, Retief," Magnan said reprovingly. "There was no need to
trouble Mr. Leatherwell."
Leatherwell directed a sharp look at Retief and a bland one at Magnan.
"I trust you'll communicate the proposal to the interested parties.
Inasmuch as time is of the essence of the GM position, our offer can
only be held open until 0900 Greenwich, tomorrow. I'll call again at
that time to finalize matters. I trust there'll be no impediment to a
satisfactory settlement at that time. I should dislike to embark on
lengthy litigation."
Magnan hurried around his desk to open the door. He turned back to fix
Retief with an exasperated frown.
"A crass display of boorishness, Retief," he snapped. "You've
embarrassed a most influential member of the business community--and
for nothing more than a few miserable forms."
"Those forms represent somebody's stake in what might be a valuable
property."
"They're mere paper until they've been processed!"
"Still--"
"My responsibility is to the Public interest--not to a fly-by-night
group of prospectors."
"They found it first."
"Bah! A worthless rock. After Mr. Leatherwell's munificent gesture--"
"Better rush his check through before he thinks it over and changes his
mind."
"Good heavens!" Magnan clutched the check, buzzed for Miss Gumble. She
swept in, took Magnan's instructions and left. Retief waited while
Magnan glanced over the injunction, then nodded.
"Quite in order. A person called Sam Mancziewicz appears to be the
principal. The address given is the Jolly Barge Hotel; that would be
that converted derelict ship in orbit 6942, I assume?"