Page 18 - Ferry Tales
P. 18

Cado

          “Fine, fine,” he says, as if I have a problem. “I’ll take it up with
        someone  in  a  position  of  authority.  What  is  the  name  of  your
        supervisor?”
          “You know damn well who that is. Good luck.”
          “Thank  you.”  Cado  had  the  snide  politeness  down  pat,  the
        result of decades of trampling over underlings and kissing up to
        his superiors. “He will have to follow the rules, same as anyone. I
        made a deal fair and square: he could have my soul if he cleared
        my  path  to  taking  over  Global  Eyes  and  Ears,  Ltd.  It  didn’t
        happen.  They  laid  me  off  before  I  could  even  make  it  to  the
        lowest level of vice president. So, there it is: he didn’t deliver, so
        he can’t have it. Or me. Whatever. Change course now, my man:
        else  you  may  be  disciplined  for  aiding  in  this  miscarriage  of
        justice.”
           Well,  you  know  me,  old  mega-mastiff:  patience  is  my  strong
        suit. You can’t go off like a jet of magma every time a passenger
        becomes  obnoxious—not  if  you  want  to  be  a  ferryman.  But  I
        couldn’t let him sit there nursing his grudge and acting like the
        owner of a yacht.
           So I says to him—calmly, of course!—”I’m no infernal lawyer,
        Mr. Cado, but I wonder if you could produce that document. I’d
        like to see the wording in the contract.”
             “Very funny,” he comes back. “Nothing is in writing in this
        sort of affair. You should know that. The Devil appears in your
        head as just another voice. It takes a while to recognize that it’s
        not one of your own. It’s behind you, or on your shoulder, or in
        your stomach. And it’s singing the siren song of temptation. You
        know that there’s never something for nothing, and you’ve heard
        all  your  life  about  the  deal  of  a  lifetime.  So  you  give  it  some
        thought, look at it from all angles and decide it’s worth it. You do
        that mentally, and the voice agrees. That means you are prepared
        to  pay  the  price—if  you  get  what  is  promised.  As  far  as  I’m
        concerned, the Devil is a cheat and a liar, and the deal is null and
        void.”
          I pretend to think things over, and then I tell him this, in a very
        judicial manner: “You have stated your case, and now it is time to
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