Page 82 - Just Deserts
P. 82

Swami Adavasi

        cocktail, he was mumbling the word ‘consortium’ to himself. Not his
        usual  babble  late  at  night,  most  of  which  even  I  would  be
        embarrassed to relate to you.”
          “You mean—” The guru’s jaw hung  agape for a frozen  instant.
        “—you mean he’s going to borrow the money to build his pyramid?
        And put Help Yourself in debt? How can he do that?”
          “I guess his success has convinced enough powerful people that
        this is a going concern, a real money-maker, with no end in sight and
        no chance of interference by the government. So maybe they’d like a
        helping or two themselves.” She shrugged and stood up.
          “I don’t believe it!” The guru found his calculator, stabbed at the
        buttons.  “Five billion—even  if we  double our  revenue, that would
        be—how many years?—no, that can’t be right! We’ll be paying this
        off for the next twenty years!”
          “What do you mean, ‘we?’ I’m still going to keep fifty percent of
        my helpings.” Her voice cut through his fretting like a knife through
        a  purse  string.  “He  can’t  put  up  my  receipts  as  collateral.  All  he
        controls is the church’s and his own assets.”
          “But he’ll be dead in a couple of years,” wailed Vanaspati, “and
        I—that is, whoever succeeds him—will have no cash flow for the life
        of the loan! And every day that damned pyramid will be staring us in
        the face!”
          Phyllis Stein headed for the door.
          “God,  I  hate  to  hear  you  moaning,  Guru-ji.  Seems  to  me  it’s  a
        question for the lawyers and accountants whether the swami can tie
        this place up in a promissory note for the foreseeable future. Just be
        sure you don’t forget your promise to me, okay?  Now I’d better get
        back below stairs to the harem. Glad I could help you out.”
          She  left  the  room.  Guru  Vanaspati  continued  to  stare  at  the
        diagram. He’s done it, he groaned inwardly. He’s found a way to keep
        on helping himself beyond the grave. What the hell am I going to do
        now? Maybe it’s time for Baba Ganesh and me to bury the hatchet
        and  put  our  heads  together.  I  can’t  take  on  the  responsibility  for
        stopping the old man alone. I need a helper. Badly.


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