"I could always be found at the
nightclub if you needed me. I went when you were asleep."
"Damn!" said Cochrane. "Hm ... You ought to get a bonus. What would you
rather have, Babs, a bonus in cash or Spaceways stock?"
"I've got some stock," said Babs. "Mr. Bell--the writer, you know--got
in a poker game. He was cleaned out. So I gave him all the money I
had--I told you I cleared out my savings-account before we came up, I
think--for half his shares."
"Either you got very badly stuck," Cochrane told her cynically, "or else
you'll be so rich you won't speak to me."
"Oh, no!" said Babs warmly. "Never!"
Cochrane yawned.
"Let's get out and take a look at the ship. Maybe I can stow cargo or
something, now there's no more paper-work."
Babs said with an odd calm:
"Mr. Jones wanted you out there today--in an hour, he said. I promised
you'd go. I meant to mention it in time."
Cochrane did not notice her tone. He was dead-tired, as only a man can
be who has driven himself at top speed for days on end over a business
deal. Business deals are stimulating only in their major aspects. Most
of the details are niggling, tedious, routine, and boring--and very
often bear-trapped.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124