He could have had Arabia around three in the morning. But instead, he made a ridiculous peace treaty that actually gave up land in Egypt. Stupid! By morning, Herman had fallen asleep, but he woke with a headache and called Grey.
"Dammit, what's happening?" Herman demanded.
"Herman, please," Grey said. "We're working hard here."
"Yeah, and I'm just sitting around here watching Italy turn to crap."
"Didn't you get an edna tonight?"
"What the hell business is that of yours?" Herman snapped. "Buy Italy, Grey!"
"This Abner Doon, the assistant minister of colonization, he's pretty adamant."
"Offer him the moon."
"It's already owned. But I offered him everything else. He just laughed. He just told you to watch the game and you'd see a real genius at work."
"Genius! The man's a moron! Already he--" and Herman launched into a description of the stupidities of the night before.
"Look, I'm not into International Games," Grey finally said. "You know that, that's why you hired me. OK? So let's just have me do my job and you follow the scoreboard."
"So when are you going to do your job?"
Grey sighed. "Do we have to do this on the phone, with Mother's Little Boys listening in?"
"Let 'em listen."
"All right, I've tried to trace who's controlling this Doon. The man has connections, but they're all legitimate. I can't find a bankroll, all right? So how can I get the people who are paying him to sell out if I can't find who's paying him?"
"Can't he have an accident or something?"
Grey was silent for a moment. "This is the telephone, Mr. Nuber, and it's illegal to suggest criminal activities over the telephone."
"Sorry."
"It's also very stupid. Do you want me to lose my license?"
"They don't listen to every conversation."
"All right, keep praying. But we don't do anything criminal. Now sit and watch the holo or something."
Herman punched off the phone and sat at the computer terminal. Italy had just launched a pointless, half-assed war in Guiana. Guiana! As if anything that happened there mattered. And it was such a naked act of aggression that the alliances were starting to form against Italy. Stupid!
He had to do something to take his mind off the delay. He punched in a private game, offered it for free for any taker, normal specs, and pretty soon he had a good five-man game of Acquitaine going. He won it in seven hours. Pathetic. The great players were all on the broadcast games. What's keeping Grey?
"Nothing's keeping me," Grey insisted when he finally came to Herman's flat that night. "I'm performing heroic tasks for you, Herman."
"Swinging on vines isn't doing a damn bit of good."
Grey smiled, trying to like Herman's sense of humor. "Look, Herman, you're my biggest client. And you're famous. And you're important. I'd have to be an idiot not to be doing my best for you. I've got three agencies out researching everything about this Doon. And all we can find out is that he's nothing like what we first thought."
"Good. What do we think now?"
"He's rich. Richer than you could imagine."
"I can imagine infinite wealth. Give me credit."
"He's got connections all over Capitol. He knows everybody, or at least knows the people who know everybody. Right? And all his money is in trusts and investments in dummy corporations that own dummy banks that own dummy industries that own half this damn planet."
"In other words," Herman said, "he's self-employed."
"Self-employed, but he ain't sellin', you see. He doesn't need the money. He could lose everything you own in pinochle and still like the guy who won it."
Herman grimaced, "Grey, you sure have a way of making me feel poor."
"I'm trying to tell you what you're up against. Because this guy's twenty-seven years old. I mean, he's young!"
But something didn't fit. "I thought you told me he wasn't on somec."
"That's the craziest thing, Herman. He isn't. He's never gone under at all."
"What is he, a religious fanatic?"
"His only religion seems to be wrecking your life, Mr. Nuber, if I may be so bold. He won't sell. And he won't tell why. And as long as he doesn't go on somec, he doesn't have to sell. It's as simple as that."
"What have I ever done to him? Why should he want to do this to me?"
"He said he hoped you wouldn't take it personally."
Herman shook his head, furious and yet unable to find a reason adequate for his fury-- or an adequate way to express it. The man had to be reachable.
"You know what I said over the phone?"
"You'd be the first