"Forward, Robert L - Rocheworld 01 - Rocheworld (The Flight of the Dragonfly) 5.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forward Robert L)

"Did you read _all_ the way through her file?" said Dr. Wang.
"No, Doc. I didn't," said Jinjur. "I know her type only too well."
"Read it again," said William. "Especially the handwritten part after the signature."
General Jones pawed her way through the voluminous file, ignoring the numbers in the financial section that seemed to exceed those found in the Space-Marine budget. She finally came to a hand-printed line below the scrawly signature. It looked like the printed grade-school scratchings of an twelve-year-old.
"I want to go to the stars."
* * * *
A tall aristocratic woman with a lean, high-boned, freckled face walked across the exoplush carpet toward the wall communicator. She touched a tiny circle on the control plate and stared at the face that appeared in full color on the screen. She frowned slightly, her green eyes flitting over the image. In a smooth motion, her right hand reached down to pick up a hair brush on a table in front of the viewer as her left index finger touched another circle on the control plate. The image on the screen reversed as if she were looking in a mirror. A few quick brushes of her short, close cap of red hair and she was satisfied. She blanked the screen and set up a call to her financial advisor. It didn't take long -- calls from Miss Vengeance had priority at Holmes and Baker, Pty.
The face of a young business executive flashed into view.
"Good afternoon, Mycroft," she greeted him.
"The same to you, Miss Vengeance," he replied. "Although it is still early morning here. What can I do for you?"
"What's my net worth today?" she asked.
"Hummm..." he replied. "That will take a few seconds." As he talked, his hands flickered over the control plate in front of him and numbers appeared at the top of both their screens.
"Well, your stocks are worth about 22,475 million, and you have about fifty million in your various checking and credit accounts, but that is offset some by about thirty million in short-term debts..."
"No -- not just my accounts," she protested, "I mean my total net worth -- businesses, asteroid mining leases, real estate, homes, cars, everything; right down to the clothes on my back."
The image on the screen took on a puzzled expression, and Red smiled secretly at his discomfiture. If he thought this request was unusual, wait till he heard her next one!
"Everything?" he said after a pause.
"Everything," she insisted. His hands continued to flicker across the control plate hidden below the view screen. "It'll take a bit of time," he apologized. "The computer can only make guesses at what we can sell some of your personal possessions for."
"That's OK," she said. They both watched a figure at the top of the screen grow in size, then finally stabilize, fluctuating slightly in the last five or six places as the stock and commodity markets around the world continued with their buy and sell transactions.
"It looks like 61,824 million dollars, plus or minus a few hundred million," he said.
"Damn!" she exclaimed, "I thought I'd be over a hundred billion by now. But it's still pretty good for a slum-kid grade-school dropout from Phoenix." Her eyes dropped from the numbers and stared straight into his eyes.
"Liquidate it," she ordered. "You have six weeks."
"Yes, Miss Vengeance," he said with a noticeable gulp. Then, with an avid curiosity he asked, "What are your re-investment plans? Mining on the moons of Jupiter?"
Her face took on a pixie-like grin as she replied, "No. I am not going to reinvest it, I want you to turn it into cash."
His face broke into a frown, and he forgot his formal business manner as he protested, "...but Elizabeth, you won't get anywhere near a decent return on your investment if you put your money into a savings account..."
Her smile grew broader, "You don't understand, Mycroft," she replied, "I want you to turn it all into _cash_."
"Cash!?!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," she replied calmly, "I want about ten million in gold coins, and the rest in bills."
"But..." he protested, "There isn't that much cash in the banking system, and if you piled it all up in one place it would fill a football stadium!"
"You may not find that amount of cash in the banks, but I'm sure you can find it in Las Vegas or Atlantic City. Why I'll bet even Las Lunas has that much floating around. And don't worry Mycroft, I'm not going crazy. I'm just indulging in a whim, and since it's my money, I don't see why I can't do with it what I want."
"Yes, Miss Vengeance," he replied, his past dealings with Red Vengeance having taught him that it was no use to argue with her when she was in this mood. "I'll arrange for the warehouse and let you know its location, then start the liquidation."
"Fine," she said, "Oh ... and make sure the warehouse is heated," she added, reaching for her control panel to make another call.
"Heated?" Mycroft said as he stared at the blank screen. "She wants to convert everything to cold cash, and then she wants to warm it up. I wonder what she's up to?" His fingers played over his control plate as he got busy. Meanwhile, Red Vengeance's next call was wending its way through the system-wide comm nets.
"Hello. Fred? This is Red Vengeance. Do you remember that conversation we had last year at the Ford Foundation banquet? You mentioned that with the new IRS rules on disbursement of assets the Foundation was going to run out of money soon. I think I've got the solution for you, but it's going to cost you. I want your Blake & Company twenty dollar gold piece...
"I know there are only two in the world, and with one in the Smithsonian the other is worth millions, but..."
"Are you sure it's not for sale? Ask the Board of Directors if they will take sixty billion for it...
"That's right, billions, not millions. Ask them and let me know by next week."
* * * *
Thirty days later Mycroft was standing by a cinderblock warehouse in the secured section of the Los Angeles Air Freight yards as truck after truck pulled in to discharge its cargo of green paper. The first fifty trucks had been able to enter the doors to drop their cargos, but the rest pushed their loads into a blower that expelled a green and black blizzard into the interior of the large building.
The Brinks guards near Mycroft half-consciously reached for their hips as a humming sound that had been hovering on the horizon of their consciousness burst into a burbling roar. A high-powered car appeared, weaving its way around the armored trucks. Mycroft motioned to the security guards, who relaxed as the fiery-red Liberian Sword came to a expertly controlled stop in a parking space beside the building. A tall, red-headed woman dressed in a green satin jumpsuit unfolded herself from the front seat and strode over to Mycroft.
"How's it going, Mycroft?" Red asked.
"About three more loads, Miss Vengeance," he replied, "The total keeps fluctuating because of the gold prices and the extra costs that Brinks keeps adding when I ask for something else, but the last calculation was $61,834,745,901.34."
"...and 34 cents," echoed Red with a wry smile, "Mycroft -- your devotion to detail amazes me, but that's why I wouldn't have anyone else for my personal accountant." She smiled and walked through the small entry door into the guard room, Mycroft following close behind. One of the Brinks guards was watching the four electrocameras that were monitoring the interior of the warehouse from the four corners. There was a blizzard of paper blowing in from one side and the floor of the huge warehouse was piled deep with paper bills. Mycroft watched Elizabeth's face looking at the cloud of greenish grey and spoke up.
"I had quite a bit of problem with the banking system when I asked that your accounts be paid in cash and not checks. Most of them were willing to go along, but I had to read the Banking Act to a few of them before they admitted that their checks were not an adequate substitute for the cash money that they had implicitly promised when they took your account."
She turned to look at him, then lifted an arched red brow in a silent query at his concerned gaze.
"You aren't going to keep all this cash out of circulation are you?" he asked. "It could cause a serious financial disruption until the Treasury gets around to replacing it. Besides," he went on. "These assets are drawing no interest while they're in cash."
"...and that is anathema to your accountant's soul," laughed Red. "No. These bills will all be back working for their keep in one or two days, but it won't be for me."
Mycroft looked at her quizzically, but had found out long ago that the best way to handle the legendary Red was to keep quiet and listen, for she had her own puckish brand of humor.
Red Vengeance turned back to the screens, and looked at one of them intensely. "I see that you took that bit about the bathtub seriously," she remarked.
"Of course, Miss Vengeance," he replied, "and all the gold coins in the buckets next to it are either proof or uncirculated."
As they were talking, the snowstorm of cash had stopped, and they gazed into a room stacked with drifts of bills.