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Updated: June 29, 2025
After a while, I heard the delegation going down the hall from the private office door. One of them was saying: "Well, this is what we've always been screaming our heads off for. Now we've got it good and hard; we'll just have to get used to it." When I went in, Bish rose from his desk and came to meet me, shaking my hand. He looked and was dressed like the old Bish Ware I'd always known.
"I had rather see you a curate at seventy pounds a-year, than an attorney with seven hundred," replied she. "And you know your father was always asked to dine everywhere to places where I know they would not have asked Mr. Bish, of Woodchester, and he makes his thousand a-year. Besides, Mr. Buxton has the next presentation to Combehurst, and you would stand a good chance for your father's sake.
They knew me, and when they saw Tom towing my hamper they cracked a few jokes about the new Times cub reporter and waved us through. I thought they might give Bish an argument, but they just nodded and let him pass, too. We all went out onto the bridge, and across the pit to the equator of the two-thousand-foot globular ship. We went into the main lounge, and the captain introduced us to Mr.
There were certain old ladies, of both sexes and all ages, of whom Professor Hartzenbosch was an example, who took Dad to task occasionally for letting me associate with him. Dad simply ignored them. As long as I was going to be a reporter, I'd have to have news sources, and Bish was a dandy.
"You caught that? Careless of me," Bish chided himself. "What he gave me was a report that they had finally located a man who had been a staff surgeon at this hospital on Baldur at the time. He's now doing a stretch for another piece of malpractice he was unlucky enough to get caught at later.
I did, and while I was talking Dad sat with his soup spoon poised halfway to his mouth for at least a minute before he remembered he was holding it. "Now, that is funny," he said when I was through. "Why do you suppose...?" "Somebody," Bish said, "some group of ship captains, is holding wax out from the Co-operative.
Took some of it in cash and the rest in Banking Cartel drafts. Murell says that his information is that Bish Ware, Steve Ravick and Leo Belsher arrived earlier, about an hour ago. He didn't see them himself, but he talked with spaceport workmen who did." The men who had crowded up to the screen seemed to have run out of oaths and obscenities now.
I mentioned that, but Bish just shrugged it off and suggested we go on in and see what was happening inside. "Where is Al Devis?" I asked. "A lot of people want to talk to him." "I know they do. I want to get to him first, while he's still in condition to do some talking of his own. But he just dropped out of sight, about the time your father started calling the Javelin." "Ah!"
Joe was still letting himself be argued into thinking he had done the right thing when we saw the lights of a lorry coming from uptown at ceiling level. A moment later, it backed to the catwalk, and Bish Ware stuck his head out from the pilot's seat. "Where do you gentlemen wish to go?" he asked. "To the Javelin," Joe said instantly. "Huh-uh," Oscar disagreed. "That's the first place they'll look.
Seems most of our "guests" part with information easier if they have something like the locally made hydroponic potato schnapps inside them for courage. "You drink Baldur honey-rum, don't you, Bish?" he said, pawing among the bottles in the liquor cabinet next to the refrigerator. "I'm sure I have a bottle of it. Now wait a minute; it's here somewhere."
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