"No!"
"All right," Kissur said. "I will believe you but only with one condition. You will sell the company shares at the same price you bought them."
"No."
Kissur grinned and took one of the swords hanging in the room from a prop. He got it out of the sheath and pushed its triangular tip in Bemish's throat.
"Yes, or I will kill you."
Bemish licked his lips. He didn't doubt that Kissur would kill him. It's stupid. Terence Bemish, a successful financier, half-crook half-genius, had never considered ending his life in a huge city manor of an Empire ex-minister — in the manor, where not a single servant would ever blurt out anything about his fate or, to the opposite, all the servants would swear that Bemish left the manor gate whole and unhurt… Nobody would ever prove anything. Even Shavash would not kill him. Not because he minded killing, but because he was a rational man and he clearly would not want Weia to be declared a place where foreign investors were found with their throats cut… Nothing is cheaper than hiring a killer. But Shavash didn't kill Bemish, he went for Trevis instead — it was an order of magnitude more difficult and expensive…
"If I don't sell the shares with a rake-off," Bemish said, "I'll go bankrupt. They will point their fingers at me. I will not do what you want."
"Take your knife, Kissur, and cut his balls off, " Khanadar said, "it doesn't befit you to dirty your noble sword by a money-grubber."
"You wanted that from the very beginning, didn't you?"
"No, I wanted to buy Assalah."
"How much do you need to buy Assalah?"
"If only half of my potential creditors fulfill their promises without Trevis, I'll need five million."
"I will find this money," Kissur said, throwing the sword back in the sheath and he left.
The announcement of the investment auction for the acquisition of the state-owned block of shares was published in the government's White Herald a day before the application deadline. The announcement mandated that the auction participants should turn in a deposit of 6 % of projected investment and should demonstrate reliable proof of being able to fulfill the assumed financial obligations.
Trevis hadn't called Bemish since — it was below his dignity. On the other hand, the corporate financing department head called and told Bemish that he didn't need to hurry back to Trevis' headquarters since he wouldn't be received anyway.
The next day, Bemish stepped out of a luxurious limo that arrived at the ministry of finance, formerly first minister Rush's palace. A crowd was already there, including the local financiers who, having heard about the Assalah fray, were willing to risk taking part in the auction. Kissur appeared in the registration hall at almost the same time as Bemish.
Shavash, the director of the company offered for tender, ignored Bemish utterly. He was talking to an Earth journalist. The subject of the talk was the importance of foreign investors — only they were able to force Weian companies to correspond to international audit standards and raise Empire finances to a new level.
Bemish silently watched the official registering his application and entering the necessary financial contrivances into the computer. What if this bastard makes an error and Bemish won't be allowed to participate on technical grounds.
The official finished the registration, shoved an embossed sheet with the application in the printer and, having printed everything, carried it to Shavash for a signature. Shavash, without being distracted from the progressive interview, signed everything.
Bemish moved away to a small table where, by Weian custom, fruits and a special bowl constantly filled with peach juice stood. The juice filled the bowl through a special tube and symbolized the everlasting plenty. Bemish poured some juice in a cup and here Giles approached him.
"Can I ask you where you got the money?" Giles enquired.
"The investment company Plana offered me credit."
"What kind of company is it?"
"It's a company located on Gera," Bemish replied gloating.
"A company located on Gera? Why not a company located in a devil's arse? When did it come to being, yesterday?"
Bemish looked at his watch.
"To be precise, it came to being today, three hours ago."
Meanwhile, Shavash finished his enlightened interview and led Kissur aside.
"Did you," he asked, "loan Bemish money?"
"Am I a usurer?" Kissur was offended, "to loan money? It was a gift."
"You were born of a Barsharg goat!" Shavash swore. "This is the last you'll see of it."
"Let's see," Kissur said, "who wins the auction."
Here, another Earth journalist approached Shavash and the company director started repeating how only a scrupulous foreign investor could save Weian economics.
By the evening, the bored journalists, hanging out at the cafe, could record in their notebooks that three companies were interested in the state's offer — Bemish's ADO, IC Corporation, and Rusby and C — were offering to buy the shares out first and to finance the construction out of the galactic company resources afterwards. Five or six large investment banks were also interested. They were not going to buy Assalah shares themselves. They mostly offered to the government various alternatives of convertible bonds that these banks would distribute to the Galactic investors — the bonds would be converted, at some date, to Assalah shares now belonging to the state. Such a large number of investment bank aspirants had surprised Bemish at first but he was told later that actually his modest person was the source. The players on the fund market ferreted out that Terence Bemish was going to buy some blip-blop limited in some banana republic, decided that it had to be a swell deal and followed him like the honey gatherers follow a bee.
A phone call from Kissur woke Bemish up at 3am.
"Hello, Terence. The investment auction is cancelled. Two hours, after the applications had been submitted, Shavash sold 51 % of state-owned Assalah shares to IC Company at five and a half dinars per share."
"What do you mean sold?" Bemish choked.
The line went off.
Fifteen minutes later, a car stopped under the hotel windows and Kissur jumped out of it.
"Dress," Kissur said. "We are going to the sovereign."
"Why?"
At this point, the phone rang again. Bemish picked up the receiver.
"Terence, this is Shavash. Call your complaint off."
"What complaint?"
"Don't pretend. Call off the complaint that you wrote to the sovereign requesting to arrest me for bribery."
"Have you lost your mind? I've never written this crap!"
"Terence, if you go to the sovereign you will be squashed flat. You can forget about working in a bank — they won't hire you as a cashier in a supermarket. Got it?"
"I haven't…"
Shavash slammed the receiver.