core
material at some time, and gathered it in. Since we had been working on—that
is, had landed to take samples on the other side of the body, this anomalous
deposit escaped our attention completely."
Retief
stepped into the room.
"Good
morning, gentlemen. Has Mr. Mancziewicz arrived?"
"Mr.
Mancziewicz is under restraint by the Navy. I've had a call that he'd be
escorted here."
"Arrested,
eh?" Leatherwell nodded. "I told you these people were an
irresponsible group. In a way it seems a pity to waste a piece of property like
95739-A on them."
"I
understood General Minerals was claiming that rock," Retief said, looking
surprised.
Leatherwell
and Magnan exchanged glances. "Ah, GM has decided to drop all claim to the
body," Leatherwell said. "As always, we wish to encourage enterprise
on the part of the small operators. Let them keep the property. After all GM
has other deposits well worth exploiting." He smiled complacently.
"What
about 2645-P? You've offered it to the Sam's group."
"That
offer is naturally withdrawn!" Leatherwell snapped.
"I
don't see how you can withdraw the offer," Retief said. "It's been
officially recorded. It's a Bona Fide contract, binding on General Minerals,
subject to—"
"Out
of the goodness of our corporate heart," Leatherwell roared, "we've
offered to relinquish our legitimate, rightful claim to asteroid 2645-P. And
you have the infernal gall to spout legal technicalities! I have half a mind to
withdraw my offer to withdraw!"
"Actually,"
Magnan put in, eyeing a corner of the room, "I'm not at all sure I could
turn up the record of the offer of 2645-P. I noted it down on a bit of scratch
paper—"
"That's
all right," Retief said, "I had my pocket recorder going. I sealed
the record and deposited it in the Consular archives."
There
was a clatter of feet outside. Miss Gumble appeared on the desk screen.
"There are a number of persons here—" she began.
The
door banged open. Sam Mancziewicz stepped into the room, a sailor tugging at
each arm. He shook them loose; stared around the room. His eyes lighted on
Retief. "How did you get here ...?"
"Look
here, Monkey wits or whatever your name is," Leatherwell began, popping
out of his chair.
Mancziewicz
whirled, seized the stout executive by the shirt front and lifted him onto his
tiptoes. "You double-barrelled copper-bottomed oak-lined son-of-a—"
"Don't
spoil him, Sam," Retief said casually. "He's here to sign off all
rights—if any—to 95739-A. It's all yours—if you want it."
Sam
glared into Leatherwell's eyes. "That right?" he grated. Leatherwell
bobbed his head, his chins compressed into bulging folds.
"However,"
Retief went on, "I wasn't at all sure you'd still be agreeable, since he's
made your company a binding offer of 2645-P in return for clear title to
95739-A."
Mancziewicz
looked across at Retief with narrowed eyes. He released Leatherwell, who
slumped into his chair. Magnan darted around his desk to minister to the
magnate. Behind them, Retief closed one eye in a broad wink at Mancziewicz.
"...
still, if Mr. Leatherwell will agree, in addition to guaranteeing your title to
95739-A, to purchase your output at four credits a ton, FOB his collection
station—"
Mancziewicz
looked at Leatherwell. Leatherwell hesitated, then nodded. "Agreed,"
he croaked.
"...
and to open his commissary and postal facilities to
material at some time, and gathered it in. Since we had been working on—that
is, had landed to take samples on the other side of the body, this anomalous
deposit escaped our attention completely."
Retief
stepped into the room.
"Good
morning, gentlemen. Has Mr. Mancziewicz arrived?"
"Mr.
Mancziewicz is under restraint by the Navy. I've had a call that he'd be
escorted here."
"Arrested,
eh?" Leatherwell nodded. "I told you these people were an
irresponsible group. In a way it seems a pity to waste a piece of property like
95739-A on them."
"I
understood General Minerals was claiming that rock," Retief said, looking
surprised.
Leatherwell
and Magnan exchanged glances. "Ah, GM has decided to drop all claim to the
body," Leatherwell said. "As always, we wish to encourage enterprise
on the part of the small operators. Let them keep the property. After all GM
has other deposits well worth exploiting." He smiled complacently.
"What
about 2645-P? You've offered it to the Sam's group."
"That
offer is naturally withdrawn!" Leatherwell snapped.
"I
don't see how you can withdraw the offer," Retief said. "It's been
officially recorded. It's a Bona Fide contract, binding on General Minerals,
subject to—"
"Out
of the goodness of our corporate heart," Leatherwell roared, "we've
offered to relinquish our legitimate, rightful claim to asteroid 2645-P. And
you have the infernal gall to spout legal technicalities! I have half a mind to
withdraw my offer to withdraw!"
"Actually,"
Magnan put in, eyeing a corner of the room, "I'm not at all sure I could
turn up the record of the offer of 2645-P. I noted it down on a bit of scratch
paper—"
"That's
all right," Retief said, "I had my pocket recorder going. I sealed
the record and deposited it in the Consular archives."
There
was a clatter of feet outside. Miss Gumble appeared on the desk screen.
"There are a number of persons here—" she began.
The
door banged open. Sam Mancziewicz stepped into the room, a sailor tugging at
each arm. He shook them loose; stared around the room. His eyes lighted on
Retief. "How did you get here ...?"
"Look
here, Monkey wits or whatever your name is," Leatherwell began, popping
out of his chair.
Mancziewicz
whirled, seized the stout executive by the shirt front and lifted him onto his
tiptoes. "You double-barrelled copper-bottomed oak-lined son-of-a—"
"Don't
spoil him, Sam," Retief said casually. "He's here to sign off all
rights—if any—to 95739-A. It's all yours—if you want it."
Sam
glared into Leatherwell's eyes. "That right?" he grated. Leatherwell
bobbed his head, his chins compressed into bulging folds.
"However,"
Retief went on, "I wasn't at all sure you'd still be agreeable, since he's
made your company a binding offer of 2645-P in return for clear title to
95739-A."
Mancziewicz
looked across at Retief with narrowed eyes. He released Leatherwell, who
slumped into his chair. Magnan darted around his desk to minister to the
magnate. Behind them, Retief closed one eye in a broad wink at Mancziewicz.
"...
still, if Mr. Leatherwell will agree, in addition to guaranteeing your title to
95739-A, to purchase your output at four credits a ton, FOB his collection
station—"
Mancziewicz
looked at Leatherwell. Leatherwell hesitated, then nodded. "Agreed,"
he croaked.
"...
and to open his commissary and postal facilities to
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