Page 16 - Omar!

the other began to object. “That is of no consequence, now. As its
representative, I must tell you that the Old Empire will not allow
Omar! to open as scheduled.”
“But our contract!” began Fey.
“Your contract,” said Baron, “provides for a guarantee. The
trustees are willing to increase that amount to a sum equaling your
share of a sold-out house for the entire performance run. You could
not possibly hope for a better offer.”
Fey let out a long sigh. “And if I refuse?”
“Then the inevitable disorder will occur, the police will force us to
close the theatre, and you will get no more than the minimum
guarantee—and your life, if the crowd permits you to keep it. That is
the sociopolitical environment in which we live. I cannot predict
whether the publicity would be harmful or helpful to either of us, so
I can put no monetary value on that aspect. Now, what do you say?
Do we have a deal?”
Barnaby Fey, nom de plume Sonny Musselman, tilted his head to
one side, as if listening to a distant drum.
“All right,” he finally said. “I’ll take the cash in hand and waive the
rest.”

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