131 Old World, New Realities (1/2)
Dave Ramsey showed up in the nick of time: the man in the birdshit-smeared two hundred and fifty dollar designer T-shirt had just been told to enter by the entrance guards.
”Crikey,” Dave said. ”I never expected they'd process people so quickly!”
”Yes, Henry seems to be as efficient as ever,” said Harold. ”And newly ruthless.”
”Ruthless? What do you mean?”
”You'll see.”
Dave did, very shortly. The town hall doors crashed open and the man in the soiled designer T-shirt was led out, or rather carried out, by two soldiers. They were gripping his arms so tightly his feet were barely touching the ground.
”You're hurting me,” he was saying. ”You're hurting me! Let me go!”
”Right away, sir,” said one of the soldiers. They set him down on the top step and the soldier who'd spoken gave him a push. The man went tumbling down the steps, and there was a subdued gasp of horror from the assembled people.
”They had no right to do that,” said a loud female voice the moment the doors closed behind the soldiers.
”They did have the right. Shut up,” said one of the entrance guards, just as loudly. A shocked, disbelieving silence settled on the crowd.
”What are you waiting for?” the guard said to Harold.
”You didn't tell me I could enter.”
”That's right, sorry. Got a little distracted. You seem to have the right attitude. Please go in.”
”The two of us are together. Henry, I mean Mr. Deacon is expecting us.”
”Go ahead.”
They did. The entrance lobby contained a dozen soldiers, all in combat gear, looking determined and grim. Harold and Dave crossed the lobby and went into Deacon's office and immediately noticed an important change. A huge map of Port Douglas and adjacent territory was hung on the wall behind the mayor's desk. It was covered by a cellophane sheet marked with mysterious red and blue circles and lines.
The district governor and mayor of Port Douglas was pacing the ground in front of the map, looking rather grim. But he brightened up when he saw Harold and Dave.
”Hello, chaps,” he said. ”It's so nice to see someone who is reasonable. Sit down,” he added, waving at the chairs set in front of his desk.
They sat down, silently marveling at the appearance of Deacon's desk. His elegant top hat sat to his right; to his left stood three separate piles of paper.
”Yes,” Deacon said, catching their eye, ”We're back in the pen and paper era. You'll have to sign a couple of documents.”
He began plucking paper sheets off the piles, saying:
”After you sign those, go home and wait for the tax collector. He'll come round by the end of the day to collect the license fee, and issue you with implant kits. Harold, did you manage to find enough people for your colony?”
”Yes.” Harold took out the signed declarations of commitment from his briefcase, and passed them to Deacon.
”Who is our tax collector, Henry?” asked Dave.
”Nicky Rizzo.”
Dave and Harold were stunned.
”Nicky Rizzo?” Harold said after a while. ”But he's a criminal. I mean I know nothing's ever been proved in court, but it's common knowledge.”
”Nicky Rizzo is a former drug dealer,” said Deacon. ”I say former, because he's freshly out of work. That whole business just doesn't exist any more. An unemployed criminal is a very dangerous criminal. It's better that he's busy doing something legal. And there's another advantage to giving him the job - I don't have to worry about his security. Tax collection is going to be a dangerous business, as I'm sure you understand.”
”I do, and I'm sure Harry does too,” said Dave. ”But could you please put us under someone else?”
”Mr. Rizzo is the sole tax collector in Port Douglas. It's just a few hundred households. He declared he can manage that with a thumb up his arse, to use his words. And between you and me and a rubber boot, I think appointing a second tax collector in Port Douglas would be bad move. I would have to appoint a new one every month because they'd keep disappearing. You get my drift?”
They did, and nodded silently.
”I'm pretty sure Rizzo will be good at the job,” said Deacon. ”Of course if you have any complaints, come to see me. Hopefully it won't come to that.”
”I want to ask you something, Henry,” said Harold Pendelton.
Henry Deacon raised an admonishing finger.
”Just a moment,” he said. ”Let me show you your colony sites first.”