F Paul Wilson - LaNague 02 Read Free Page A

Pete
resumed his supine position on the sand and closed his eyes.
                “I’m well
aware of that. But for the time being, let’s see if we can find out exactly
what they’re up to.” Without opening his eyes, he waved a hand in Tella’s
direction. “Get in touch when you have something.”
                The
receding sound of Tella’s footsteps vibrated through the hot sand to the back
of Old Pete’s skull as he lay there and considered his options. Things were
beginning to come to a head. He would have to start setting the stage for a
countermove now or risk being caught off guard when the time for action
arrived.
                And that
meant he would have to go back to IBA.
                A flood of
memories swirled around him. Interstellar Business Advisors… he and Joe Finch
had founded the company on a shoestring more than half a century before.
Fifty-four years ago to be exact. Hard to believe that much time had passed.
Then again, when he considered all they had accomplished in that period, it
seemed a wonder they’d had enough time at all.
                 
                IT BEGAN
BACK ON EARTH when a very young Peter Paxton received word from Joseph Finch,
editor and publisher of Finch House Books, that his manuscript on the theory
and practice of business on an interstellar scale had been accepted. Mr. Finch
wanted to meet with him personally.
                The meeting
still remained fine-etched in his mind: Joe Finch slouching behind his
cluttered desk, fixing him now and again with those penetrating eyes, and
telling him how his book was going to revolutionize interstellar trade. And
imagine! Written by a man who had never even weekended on the moon!
                They spent
the afternoon in the office. Joe Finch’s range of interests and knowledge was
impressive. He was an omnivore with an insatiable appetite for information. He
spoke at length on the fine points of the latest attempts to mine the neutron
stars, then switched to an impromptu dissertation on the reasons for the most recent
additions to Earth’s list of extinct flora and fauna. He gave a technical
explanation of his own experimental techniques in holographic photography and
then expounded on his perdurably unorthodox view of Earth’s current fiscal and
political situation. And through it all ran an invisible thread of logic that
somehow strung everything into a cohesive whole.
                They talked
for hours in the office and then went to Finch’s house, where he lived alone
except for his giant pet antbear. The rest of the night was spent in the living
room, talking and drinking Joe’s horde of natural scotch whiskey until they
both passed out in their chairs.
                Never in
his life among the teeming homogenized masses of Earth had Pete met such a
forceful personality. That night was the beginning of a close friendship. So
close that when Joe fled Earth after incurring the wrath of the planet’s chief
administrator, Peter went with him. The antbear came along, too.
                They ran to
Ragna, rented an office and, rather than publish Pete’s book, decided to put it
into practice. Obtaining a business loan on Ragna was no easy matter in those
days, but they swung it and announced the opening of Interstellar Business
Advisors – a big name on a little door.
                Soon they
began advising. A few small-time independent traders with timorous plans for
growth or consolidation were the first clients. Pete plugged the type of
product, the demographics, the population projections, political vagaries, et
cetera, of the sectors in question into his theoretical programs and ran them
through a computer. The results were then run through Joe Finch, who processed
them with his indefinable combination of intuition and marketing experience,
and a strategy was formed.
                Success