Part 23 (1/2)
”We'll see, Jerry,” Mary smiled. Smiles like that were the last thing cornered mice saw on cats' faces. ”Are you aware of the Land Reform Act of 184?”
”Land Reform Act of 184?” he echoed vaguely.
”Yes, it established limitations on absentee landlords. You know, Jerry, people who own, or claim to own, property, and expect returns from those who actually work it.”
Mr. Mumford's eyes grew wide and his mouth began a slow slide south. ”In ah, one eighty-four, you say.”
”They had a problem back then with landlords tossing farmers off their land or jacking up the rents outrageously, at least in the Richland area. Refuge and New Haven found the practice so objectionable they pa.s.sed a reform act Explains why most farmland is affiliated with either Refuge or New Haven. You aren't aware of this act, are you, Mr. Mumford?”
Jerry nodded dumbly. Mary pa.s.sed two sheets of paper across the table to him. He started reading. ”But this law hasn't been applied in more than a hundred years!” he squeaked.
”Kind of like Statute 12.033,” Ray offered.
”You'll have to take it to court in Richland,” the poor man stammered.
”But Jerry, the Reform Act of 184 is a Great Circle act,” Mary pointed out. ”Problems with it go to a court in Refuge, right?”
”Right,” he whimpered. ”I mean, you can appeal to there from Richland.”
”And all the time it's in court, you're collecting no rent from us. Not Vicky's part. Not your part. What percentage are you getting, ten percent?” Mary asked.
”Five,” Mumford muttered, then looked like he wanted to swallow his answer.
”Couldn't we just agree to a proper rent, and we lease it from you?” Ray asked.
”Yes. Yes, yes, that might be okay with Miss Sterling.”
”So, Jerry, name your price.”
”One thousand pounds of copper. She'd like that,” he beamed. He might not be getting what he'd come for, but from his smile, he figured he was getting something just as good. Ray wondered how far down Vicky had had to reach to find this poor p.a.w.n. Almost, Ray felt sorry for him.
”Is that for a ten-year?” Mary asked, in negotiating mode.
”One year. Just one,” Jerry nodded, his eyes lighting up with a blend of greed and servility that washed any sympathy right out of Ray.
”So for a ten-year lease, ten thousand pounds of copper.”
”Copper, right; no aluminum. Solid copper.”
”The solidest. Now, Mr. Mumford, I have made up a ten-year lease, payable in advance,” Mary said, producing paper. ”If you'll sign it for Miss Sterling, I think we'll be in business.”
”I ought to run this by Ms. Sterling,” Mumford muttered as he read the contract through slowly, then produced a fountain pen. ”Ten thousand pounds,” he said, then hesitated. ”And how will this be delivered? I mean, ten thousand pounds of copper on the roads the way things are. A man could get killed.”
”We'll be delivering it by blimp.”
”On, good.” He signed. ”I'll just be going now.”
”There's no rush, Mr. Mumford, here's your payment,” Mary said, offering a pressed plastic credit chit.
”What's that?” Mr. Mumford glared at the offered card.
”Your ten thousand pounds of copper.”
”That's just plastic!”
”Yes, Mr. Mumford, a plastic credit chit, activated with a balance of ten thousand pounds of copper. Legal tender for all debts, as provided by the Monetary Reform Act of this very day. It's a lot easier to carry.”
”But-but-I can't take that to Miss Sterling.”
”Let's see if we can come up with something she'd like better,” Ray offered. He tapped his commlink, ”Lek, get Vicky on the line. Visual, in the conference room.”
”No problem, Colonel. Putting you through.” A hologram appeared above the conference table.
”Who is this?” Vicky stared up from her desk. ”How did you get my private line?”
”Lots of questions being asked these days,” Ray began. ”Excuse me if I ask another. What would you like for your ten thousand pounds of copper, rent on our base?”
”Rent, I don't want rent. I wanted you out of there. Mr. Mumford, what is the meaning of this?”
Poor Jerry tried to explain the impact of the Land Reform Act of 184 on his negotiations. Occasionally he actually managed six or seven words in a row without Vicky interrupting him with denials, invectives, or abuse. ”You signed a lease-without consulting me!”
”But there is no net out this far. You yourself told me!”
”Then what are we talking on?” Poor Mumford had no answer.
”An extension of the net using radio technology. It allows us access wherever we are,” Ray explained placidly.
”More of your d.a.m.n magic.”
”That we'd be happy to share with you, for a price.”
”Ah,” Vicky said, ”so now you're ready to share. For a price.” She grinned. Ray decided he preferred Vicky without the grin. Vicky sat forward in her chair, a gloat of pure victory on her face. ”So, try to sell me something. I've got plenty of your light copper. How about those nice little things that take metal out of mountains?”
Ray shook his head, and was rewarded by Vicky's face metamorphosing into a scowl the envy of any wicked witch. ”They're the private property of an employee a.s.sociation. I can't sell them.”
”If that's your answer for everything-”
”It won't be,” Ray cut off the pending diatribe. He'd heard enough directed at Mumford; he had no intention of letting Vicky get started on him. ”What else would you like?”
Vicky didn't hesitate a second. ”A mule. You are going to make them. My people heard your men promising mules to the people selling you raw materials.”
Ray made a note not to underestimate Vicky's intelligence network. ”I don't know if we can spare any mules just now,” he said, glancing at Mary.
She shook her head. ”We need every one we've got. And there're an awful lot of production priorities ahead of them.”
”You owe me a lot of copper. Either give me the copper, or give me a mule.” Vicky drove her bargain with a sledgehammer.
”If you wait a few months, we could probably sell you ten or twenty for that price,” Mary pointed out.
”In a few months I may be the one selling them,” Vicky jabbed back. ”I want one now. I want it in perfect condition. Factory-direct condition.”