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promises now, Joel." De la Croix shrugged. "Okay. But think about it I can prove it's a moneymaker." "Ill think about it," Thorby agreed. He started looking for Leda. He got her alone and told her what Joe had said. She frowned slightly. "It probably wouldn't hurt, since you aren't promising anything. Joel is a brilliant engineer. But better ask Daddy." "That's not what I meant. What did he mean: 'take over'?" "Why, you will, eventually." "Take over what?" "Everything. After all, you're Rudbek of Rudbek. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "What do you mean by 'everything'?" "Why, why --" She swept an arm at mountain and lake, at Rudbek City beyond. "All of it, Rudbek. Lots of things. Things personally yours, like your sheep station in Australia and the house in Majorca. And business things. Rudbek Associates is many things -- here and other planets. I couldn't begin to describe them. But they're yours, or maybe 'ours' for the whole family is in it. But you are the Rudbek of Rudbek. As Joe said, the heir." Thorby looked at her, while his lips grew dry. He licked them and said, "Why wasn't I told?" She looked distressed. "Thor dear! We've let you take your time. Daddy didn't want to worry you." "Well," he said, "I'm worried now. I had better talk to Uncle Jack." John Weemsby was at dinner but so were many guests. As they were leaving Weemsby motioned Thorby aside. "Leda tells me you're fretting." "Not exactly. I want to know some things." "You shall -- I was hoping that you would tire of your vacation. Let's go to my study." They went there; Weemsby dismissed his second-shift secretary and said, "Now what do you want to know?" "I want to know," Thorby said slowly, "what it means to be 'Rudbek of Rudbek.' " Weemsby spread his hands. "Everything . . . and nothing. You are titular head of the business, now that your father is dead . . . if he is." "Is there any doubt?" "I suppose not. Yet you turned up." "Supposing he is dead, what am I? Leda seems to think I own just about everything. What did she mean?" Weemsby smiled. "You know girls. No head for business. The ownership of our enterprises is spread around -- most of it is in our employees. But, if your parents are dead, you come into stock in Rudbek Associates, which in turn has an interest in -- sometimes a controlling interest -- in other things. I couldn't describe it now. I'll have the legal staff do it -- I'm a practical man, too busy making decisions to worry about who owns every share. But that reminds me . . . you haven't had a chance to spend much money, but you might want to." Weemsby opened a drawer, took out a pad. "There's a megabuck. Let me know if you run short." Thorby thumbed through it. Terran currency did not bother him: a hundred dollars to the credit -- which he thought of as five loaves of bread, a trick the Supercargo taught him -- a thousand credits to the supercredit, a thousand supercredits to the megabuck. So simple that the People translated other currencies into it, for accounting. But each sheet was ten thousand credits . . . and there were a hundred sheets. "Did I . . . inherit this?" Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "Oh, that's just spending money -- checks, really. You convert them at dispensers in stores or banks. You know how?" "No." "Don't get a thumbprint on the sensitized area until you insert it in the dispenser. Have Leda show you -- if that girl could make money the way she spends it, neither you nor I would have to work. But," Weemsby added, "since we do, let's do a little." He took out a folder and spread papers. "Although this isn't hard. Just sign at the bottom of each, put your thumbprint by it, and I'll call Beth in to notarize. Here, we can open each one to the last page. I had better hold 'em -- the consarned things curl up." Weemsby held one for Thorby's signature. Thorby hesitated, then instead of signing, reached for the document. Weemsby held on. "What's the trouble?" "If I'm going to sign, I ought to read it." He was thinking of something Grandmother used to be downright boring about. Weemsby shrugged. "They are routine matters that Judge Bruder prepared for you." Weemsby placed the document on the others, tied the stack, and closed the folder. "These papers tell me to do what I have to do anyway. Somebody has to do the chores." "Why do I have to sign?" "This is a safety measure." "I don't understand." Weemsby sighed. "The fact is, you don't understand business. No one expects you to; you haven't had any chance to learn. But that's why I have to keep slaving away; business won't wait." He hesitated. "Here's the simplest way to put it When your father and mother went on a second honeymoon, they had to appoint someone to act while they were gone. I was the natural choice, since I was their business manager and your grandfather's before that -- he died before they went away. So I was stuck with it while they went jaunting. Oh, I'm not complaining; it's not a favor one would refuse a member of the family. Unfortunately they did not come back so I was left holding the baby. "But now you are back and we must make sure everything is orderly. First it is necessary for your parents to be declared legally dead -- that must be done before you can inherit. That will take a while. So here I am, your business manager, too -- manager for all the family -- and I don't have anything from you telling me to act. These papers do that." Thorby scratched his cheek. "If I haven't inherited yet, why do you need anything from me?" Weemsby smiled. "I asked that myself. Judge Bruder thinks it is best to tie down all possibilities. Now since you are of legal age --" " 'Legal age'?" Thorby had never heard the term; among the People, a man was old enough for whatever he could do. Weemsby explained. "So, since the day you passed your eighteenth birthday, you have been of legal age, which simplifies things -- it means you don't have to become a ward of a court. We have your parents' authorization; now we add yours -- and then it doesn't matter how long it takes the courts to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html decide that your parents are dead, or to settle their wills. Judge Bruder and I and the others who have to do the work can carry on without interruption. A time gap is avoided . . . one that might cost the business many megabucks. Now do you understand?" "I think so." "Good. Let's get it done." Weemsby started to open the folder. Grandmother always said to read before signing -- then think it over. "Uncle Jack, I want to read them." "You wouldn't understand them." "Probably not." Thorby picked up the folder. "But I've got to learn." Weemsby reached for the folder. "It isn't necessary." Thorby felt a surge of obstinacy. "Didn't you say Judge Bruder prepared these for me?" "Yes." "Then I want to take them to my apartment and try to understand them. If I'm 'Rudbek of Rudbek' I ought to know what I'm doing." Weemsby hesitated, then shrugged. "Go ahead. You'll find that I'm simply trying to do for you what I have always been doing." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |