68 I Heard It On The Radio (1/2)
Sven Holm walked back to his farm with a heavy step. The dies and casts he was carrying weighed a lot, and he also had a big load on his mind.
He was sure Blom was holding out on him. But this wasn't the right moment to get tough with Blom. He needed his services, needed Blom to be enthusiastically cooperative instead of sulking with a cast on a freshly broken finger. No, that was definitely out; his favorite negotiation tactic was out. It would be grossly counterproductive. Blom needed to have all his fingers in excellent working order. Sooner or later, Sven would be placing another order for coin dies.
He was passing by the town hall when its big double door opened, and a stream of people began flowing down the entrance steps. It looked as if the town's entire police force was involved. Some of the cops threw dirty glances in Holm's direction. He smiled at them, and waved with his free hand.
”Holm!”
He turned his head and saw that Stefan Sonberg was standing on the top step. He was wearing a fur coat that made him look like an overweight bear. Sven stopped and waited, looking at Sonberg. When it became clear to the mayor that he was the one who would have to make the first move, Sonberg puffed out his cheeks and descended the stairs in a very majestic manner. Sven decided to compromise, and walked a few steps towards the mayor as he stepped down the last stair.
Some stragglers were still in the process of leaving the town hall, and Sonberg glanced at them pointedly before saying in a loud voice:
”I want to discuss something with you. Serious accusations have been made.” He broke off to glare at a couple of town clerks who had slowed down almost to a standstill, ears flapping.
”Have a nice day,” Sonberg told them nastily. Within a moment, there was no one within earshot. He turned to Sven and said:
”That moron Dahl wants to arrest you. He says you got equipment from a cube that appeared on your farm, and that you have started a colony in the New World.”
Sven smiled at the mayor, and said:
”So?”
”So make sure you're right at the front of the lineup to the Colonial Office when it opens for business. There'll be two hundred licenses waiting for you.”
”Two hundred? Thank you very much. I'm really happy to hear that.”
”You won't be so happy when you hear why you're getting an extra hundred. We've reestablished radio communications. Yes, wireless transmissions are possible again. And almost the first message we got was from the New World Colonial Council. They're limiting the number of implant kits received with every colonizer's license to just two, instead of ten.”
”Shit,” said Sven.
”There's also another change. Only licensed colonizers will be allowed to purchase individual colonist licenses, and then only up to eight, for a total of ten implant kits. You want to get more, you'll have to buy another colonizer's license.”
”Aha,” Sven said. ”Smart. They're ten times as expensive, right?”
”Right. My guess is, they simply want to suck all the old money from the market. Colonial licenses are going to be the only thing old money can still buy. So they've found a way to make them more expensive without actually changing the price.”
”It's still a hundred thousand crowns? For a colonizer's license? And ten thousand for the colonist's license?”
”Yes.”
Sven did a quick calculation in his mind, and said:
”Sounds like I'll have to find an extra couple of million. Well, thanks for letting me know in advance.”
”My pleasure.”
”Goodbye.”
”Goodbye.”
Sven resumed his journey, fuming inside. Yes, he could afford a couple of million crowns extra. But there were eighteen other chapters of the Viking Motorcycle Club, and they'd need more money, too. He'd already promised them a million each. That meant he was left with just ten million crowns' worth of wiggle room. And they would all expect at least an extra million each. He was already eight million crowns short.
He'd have to take along a lot of coins, more than he had planned. He was sure everyone would be only too happy to exchange their old money for the new currency. He would tell the presidents of the other club chapters to buy up old money if they came up short for the colonial license fees. But would they listen? They all needed to eat and drink. They needed all the new money they could get simply to satisfy their Old World needs.
He worried about it all the way back to the farm. The moment he got there, he was hit by new worries.
”We've lost communications with the New World,” Olaf Berg told him the moment he got back.
The bag of dies clanged and tinkled as Sven dropped it on the floor. He stared at Olaf and said:
”One moment.”