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t to another delivers both the metals and the power。 It is very neat； really。 But there is a lot of ore dumping and downblasts from heavy flying trucks and the atmosphere is pretty clogged。 The whole plex； with its towering elliptical transformers and elliptical streets； was first created about a hundred and twenty…five thousand years ago…at the time of the first invasion…and although it has vastly expanded； it is said that nobody has cleaned it up since。
Drivers and pilots hate to fly over it and through it。 It gets their vehicles filthy。 It also makes car radios and controls operate in weird ways。 Traffic control beams get distorted and there are crashes。 And all this； coupled with having to battle flying lorries and ground lorries arriving and leaving for all parts of the planet； has prompted some wit to call it 〃Profanity City。〃 Ske dodged and cursed his way to the Boulevard of the Metal Markets。 About a two mile stretch of hit…or…miss shops and warehouses； it is not where one would choose to drive for a scenic holiday。
My driver really cursed when I made him drive not just up it but also back down it。 I ignored him。 I was looking at the price signboards。 They change daily and no pany ever knows what another pany is going to post and a smart operator like myself doesn't just pick up a munications link and say； 〃Give me three lorry loads of lead。〃 No； indeed。
I finally chose one that seemed lowest today and directed the driver to land at the office。 It was the Reliable Ready…Pack Take Away Metals pany。
I went in。 They are used to dealing with factory agent buyers from Industrial City and there are no sales talks。 It's all old…pal and put…it…in…the…truck。 They are not used to seeing someone e up in a smart airbus； smoking a fat puffstick and looking down his nose at them。 They looked surprised。 Dealing in metals has made them metallic in appearance。 Even their aprons look like they are cast。
〃Military purchases are out back；〃 clanked the salesman。
〃This is personal；〃 I said。 I laid the old lunch bag on the counter and he started to walk off。 I pulled a sheaf of gold…colored money out of it and he came back。
〃A cash deal？〃 he clanked。 His eyeballs click…clicked this way and that to see if anybody else in the place was watching。 I knew he was wondering how much cash he could skim off for himself。
〃You are posting；〃 I said； 〃gold for eleven credits the pound today。〃
〃Special；〃 he said。 〃Only 。001 percent impure。〃
〃I think；〃 I said； 〃you have some for ten？〃
〃e into this tank；〃 he said quickly。
He did some rapid clanking on an old calculating machine。 It was very plex。 How much did he have to steal off the stockpile and add to my order in order to arrive at ten credits a pound。 Then how much more did he have to steal and add in order to pocket how much for himself。
But my calculation was not obscure at all。 I was going to hold on to one thousand credits to spend。 I was not going to return any advanced pay…as I couldn't spend it where I was going。 I had nine thousand credits to buy with。 I wanted nine hundred pounds of gold。
With many clicks and cracks of his face； he finally had it worked out。 It really didn't cost the pany all that much。 Lead was a third of a credit a pound。 Converting it down to gold； which is lighter on the atomic scale； delivered enormous power generation and paid for the processing。 The main cost to the power pany was in packaging and wholesaling to such panies as Reliable Ready…Pack and it in turn had overheads and missions。 The only reason gold stayed up as high as it did was because the power bines preferred to do lighter element atomic conversion； due to electrical demands。 The metals themselves tended to be secondary。 So skimming off a few ingots was nothing he would be tagged for。 It would go down as 〃ordinary business wear and tear。〃
〃That welds the deal；〃 he said。
〃One more thing；〃 I said。 〃I want heavy ingot packing cases； nine of them； one hundred pounds to the case。〃
〃That's extra；〃 he said。
〃What's the name of that pany just south of you？〃 I said。
〃That welds the deal；〃 he said。
With a bunch of 〃Hey； Ip〃 and 〃You there；〃 he got the laborers at it。 They found nine battered…up but lock…able ingot cases in the trash heap。
I took one of the fifty…pound ingots off the pile。 Gold is deceptive。 It looks small but it's heavy。 It almost broke my arm。 I poked at it with a fingernail and then put my teeth into a corner of it。 Nice and soft。 Pure gold。 Gleaming； lovely！ Gold is so pretty！
Into the cases it went； eighteen fifty…pound bars of it。 The metal man falsified the inventory log。 Out to the front loading platform went the dolly。
I counted nine thousand credits out of the sack and into his pincer…grip fingers。 I got my personal receipt。 We clanked hands。
The deal was finished。 The laborers left。 And the dolly sat fifty feet away from the airbus。 But an airbus can't get up to the loading platform and still open its doors。 I called Ske。 I pointed。
He started to lift one of the boxes and then stopped to give me an awful look。 I gestured impatiently。
It was warm and it was dusty。 Nevertheless； a sweating Ske soon had nine boxes sitting on the floor of the airbus。
I lifted a lordly finger。 〃To the Apparatus hangar； my man。〃 And he got in and the airbus rose lumberingly； staggering into the sky。
Ske was snarling to himself and the airbus was lurching about。 This was silly since the load it carried was only a hair above the full…rated passenger load。
The bouncing around made it a bit hard to do； but I got out the spare Zanco labels and began to affix them； one to the case。 They were the immersion type label： when you put them on； they sink into the material of the case and nothing can remove them。 The labels said： DANGER HEALTH HAZARD RADIOACTIVE CELLOLOGICAL ELEMENTS THE ZANCO PANY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR SERIOUS BURNS OR DEATH RESULTING FROM OPENING THIS CASE Bright red。 Delightful！ They would glow even in the dark！
And as the somewhat dusty airbus lurched through the sky； I did some glowing of my own。
Nine hundred pounds of gold was ten thousand； eight hundred ounces； Troy。
On Blito…P3； the current average price of gold was a minimum of six hundred dollars American an ounce； to say nothing of what it brought on the black market or in Hong Kong。
This meant that one Soltan Gris would have six million； four hundred and eighty thousand personal dollars American to play around with。 This was so ample I didn't even bother to adjust it for gravity differences。 What was a million； more or less？
That would buy an awful lot of Turkish dancing girls。
It would also buy； if I was pushed to use it； an awful lot of Hells for Heller。 I giggled because the words are similar in English。
Not only a clever Gris； not only a rich Gris； but a lofty； millionaire； tycoon； fat…cat Gris was not just unbeatable。 He was inexorable！
〃This ain't no truck！〃 snarled Ske； narrowly averting a nose…dive crash。
I ignored him。 Power； power； who saith it doth not have a sweet taste？ I was spending it in English already。 And in my imagination； Heller； a ragged； shabby and starving； panhandling bum； approached on the street and begged me f