Final Weapon Page 11

"I believe regulations--"

  "I don't care what's implied, DeVore. And I don't care what youbelieve. All I see is what's in this letter. They want to distribute themanufacturing load, and I'm quite willing that they should. I want tocontinue receiving the payments from Consolidated. Now, you arrange itso that they're satisfied and I'm satisfied."

  "But that'll mean Consolidated will have to pay double. We can't--"

  "Don't say 'can't' to me!" Morely held up a hand angrily. "DeVore, I'mnot going to tell you how to do this. I want it done. The details areyour affair, and if I have to teach you your business, I'll get someonewho can do things without having to have them spelled out to him." Heleaned back, to glare at DeVore.

  "Now, get on the job. I told you to make arrangements for me so that wewill retain our payments from Consolidated. And I'm not interested inwhat arrangements you make with them, or what arrangements they makewith Central. Is that a simple enough order for you to understand?"

  "Yes, sir. I understand all right. But--"

  "Good! I'm glad I managed to get at least one simple idea into yourhead." The spring in the chair twanged as Morely came forward, to pokehis head at DeVore. "Now, get to work on it."

  He jerked his head down for a quick look at the letter on his desk, thenlooked up again.

  "And I'll expect a report from you by tonight that you've got the mattertaken care of."

  DeVore looked at his superior expressionless for a heartbeat. He hadbeen given peculiar orders before, and he'd always managed to work outthe problems involved. But this was the ultimate. This one seemed to bejust plain illegal. And there was no point in arguing further. There wasjust the barest chance that there might be some legitimate way out. Ifhe challenged the Old Man on an illegal order, he just might get hisears pinned back. He'd simply have to go back to his office and try tohunt out a technicality. He nodded.

  "Yes, sir. I'll get on it immediately."

  He saluted and started to leave the office. But he didn't make it.

  "And, DeVore!"

  The Fiscal chief halted abruptly, and turned.

  "Sir?"

  "I'm getting tired of the negative thinking you people seem to havefallen into lately. I'm sick of going into every routine detail withyou. When you got that letter, you should have immediately worked out amethod of retaining the royalties. Then, you could have come in andpresented it for my approval. That is the kind of work I want. Andthat's the kind of work I mean to get in the future. Do you understand?"

  Sternly, DeVore suppressed a sarcastic thought. He held his mind andface blank and nodded with a semblance of respect.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Very well." Morely waved a hand. "Now get something done."

  * * * * *

  As DeVore walked through the corridor, he thought over the situation. Ofcourse, the easy way out would be to force Consolidated to continue thepayments in addition to their license fees from Central. That could bedone. There were all kinds of methods by which pressure could be broughtto bear on any company by the district leader's office. And fromConsolidated's point of view, double payments could offer a cheap meansof keeping out of difficulties. They would be able to pass most of thecost to the consumer by a slight price increase, justified by a minormodification of the devices.

  But they wouldn't be happy about it, and there would come a day when anauditing team from Central would be checking in the district. And thatwould be the day of days!

  DeVore turned in at the door to his own office, crossed the room, andsat down at his desk.

  To be sure, he could request a share of the fees from Central, andthey'd make an award. But they'd never award more than fifty per cent,and it'd be hard to get that much. That was no good. The Old Man wouldwant the same payments he'd been getting.

  Or, he could try to negotiate a new agreement with Consolidated, doublethe royalties, and then request fifty per cent from Central. He grinnedwryly. That would be within legal limits, he was sure, but Central knewthe present arrangement, and he knew that they knew. And so would mostof the interested manufacturers in other regions. The first-classcitizens who owned the plants had their own liaison. They'd all balk.Then, Central would invalidate both old and new agreements and refusecompensation of any kind to district. That would be a suicidal course.

  He looked up, thinking of one of the girls out in the legal crew.

  "_Fiscal regulations, please. And Markowitz on royalties, too._"

  The girl turned half around, and he could see a faint impression of herview of office details. Then, she went to a book rack. For a fewseconds, she glanced over the books, then selected two large volumes.

  "_Shall I look it up, or do you want the books?_"

  "_I'll take them. Might need quite a bit of research._"

  Shortly, the girl appeared in his doorway. Quickly, she laid the twovolumes on his desk.

  DeVore nodded his thanks and opened regulations. Some of the paragraphswere delightfully vague, and could be subject to more than oneinterpretation. But one paragraph was clear and explicit. And that wasthe one he was concerned with.

  A royalty agreement with, or manufacturing license from CentralCoordination definitely abrogated any agreement with, or payment to, anylesser headquarters. Such an agreement or license barred any furthernegotiation between any lesser headquarters and a manufacturer, relatingto the product concerned. Double royalties were prohibited in any case.

  He pushed the books aside. There was no need of looking in Markowitz.That regulation paragraph took care of this exact situation, anddisposed of it neatly. For an instant, he thought of taking the volumein to the leader's office. Then, he remembered the threatening note inthe authoritative voice and the flat, deadly thoughts he had noted assecondaries.

  That wouldn't work either. He thought of the undercurrent in Kirk'sthoughts. Kirk had been carrying a regulation book, he remembered. Hecontacted the Fixed Communications chief.

  "_Don't_," he was told. "_I tried it. Know what happened?_"

  "_Go ahead._"

  "_He got the regional director on the communicator. I've beentransferred to Outpost. They seem to need a cable maintenance chief upthere. And I was lucky at that. I started to protest, and they nearlyhad me for insubordination._" Abruptly, Kirk cut away.

  * * * * *

  DeVore stared unseeingly across the desk. He'd been at Outpost for ashort time once, on an inspection trip, and he still remembered theplace. At one time, it had been a well supplied, well organized post. Atthat time, observational duty had been regarded more highly than now,and the place had been desirable for any single officer, though themarried men had objected to being separated from their families by themany miles of frozen waste. But that had changed.

  Now, Outpost was the end of the line. The dilapidated surface quartersoffered poor protection from the fierce cold. Supply ships were rarelyscheduled to the place, and were often held up by storms when they werescheduled. Half rations--even quarter rations--were commonplace. Heshook his head. Kirk was in real trouble, and there would be no point injoining him. That would help neither of them.

  This, he thought, was a situation. Then, he realized something else.From Morely's point of view, it was a perfectly safe situation, withnothing to lose. The district leader could easily disclaim anyresponsibility for his Fiscal chief's actions in this matter. After all,he hadn't given any detailed instructions. He had made no directsuggestion of any illegal course. He'd merely consulted his Fiscalexpert on a technical matter, and if DeVore had seen fit to use anillegal method of solving a problem, it was DeVore's responsibilityalone.

  To be sure, Morely had been a little emphatic in his order, but that wassimply because he was well aware of his Fiscal chief's disinclination tomake exhaustive technical research.

  DeVore pursed his lips and looked thoughtfully at the regulation book.He might be able to use the same tactic Morely was following--if he wereso inclined. He could issue verbal instructions
to the sector leaderconcerned, and Bond might fail to see the trap. Then, he could report tothe leader that the matter was taken care of, indorse the letter back toCentral, with the agreement copy, and let Bond turn in funds under oneof the "miscellaneous received" accounts. In fact, he realized, that wasjust about what the district leader expected him to do.

  He smiled and shook his head. A few months ago, it was possible he couldhave done that, but even then, he wouldn't have. And now, with themental communicators in use, it would be a flat impossibility. The trapwould be as obvious to Bond as it had been to him. He leaned back in hischair and tapped his fingertips against each other.

  The mentacoms, he knew, were in