Retief at Large Read Online Free PDF Page B

paunch buckled into
fashionable vests of turquoise velvet and hung with the latest in fluorescent
watch charms. He extended a large palm and pumped Magnan's flaccid arm
vigorously.
     
                "Ah,
there, Mr. Consul-General. Good of you to receive me." He wiped his hand
absently on his thigh, eyeing Retief questioningly.
     
                "Mr.
Retief, my Vice-Consul and Minerals Officer," Magnan said. "Do take a
chair, Mr. Leather-well. In what capacity can I serve today?"
     
                "I
am here, gentlemen," Leatherwell said, putting an immense yellow briefcase
on Magnan's desk and settling himself in a power rocker, "on behalf of my
company, General Minerals. General Minerals has long been aware, gentlemen, of
the austere conditions obtaining here in the Belt, to which public servants
like yourselves are subjected." Leatherwell bobbed with the pitch of the
rocker, smiling complacently at Magnan. "General Minerals is more than a
great industrial combine. It is an organization with a heart."
Leather-well reached for his breast pocket, missed, tried again. "How do
you turn this damned thing off?" he growled.
     
                Magnan
half-rose, peering over Leatherwell's briefcase. "The switch just there—on
the arm."
     
                The
executive fumbled. There was a click, and the chair subsided with a sigh
of compressed air.
     
                "That's
better." Leatherwell drew out a long slip of blue paper.
     
                "To
alleviate the boredom and brighten the lives of that hardy group of
Terrestrials laboring here on Ceres to bring free enterprise to the Belt,
General Minerals is presenting to the Consulate—on their behalf—one hundred
thousand credits for the construction of a Joy Center, to be quipped with the
latest and finest in recreational equipment, including a Gourmet Model C
banquet synthesizer, a forty-foot sublimation chamber, a five thousand tape
library—with a number of choice items unobtainable in Boston—a twenty-foot
Tri-D tank and other amenities too numerous to mention." Leatherwell
leaned back, beaming expectantly.
     
                "Why,
Mr. Leatherwell. We're overwhelmed, of course." Magnan smiled dazedly past
the briefcase. "But I wonder if it's quite proper ..."
     
                "The
gift is to the people, Mr. Consul. You merely accept on their behalf."
     
                "I
wonder if General Minerals realizes that the hardy Terrestrials laboring on
Ceres are limited to the Consular staff?" Retief said. "And the staff
consists of Mr. Magnan, Miss Gumble and myself."
     
                "Mr.
Leatherwell is hardly interested in these details, Retief," Magnan cut in.
"A public-spirited offer indeed, sir. As Terrestrial Consul—and on behalf
of all Terrestrials here in the Belt—I accept with a humble awareness of—"
     
                "Now,
there was one other little matter." Leather-well leaned forward to open
the briefcase, glancing over Magnan's littered desktop. He extracted a bundle
of papers, dropped them on the desk, then drew out a heavy document and passed
it across to Magnan.
     
                "Just
a routine claim. I'd like to see it rushed through, as we have in mind some
loading operations in the vicinity next week."
     
                "Certainly
Mr. Leatherwell."
     
                Magnan
glanced at the papers, paused to read. He looked up. "Ah—"
     
                "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