just wanted you to know, you can always count on Tsergovia." "In da schoolbooks!" Grijk promised. "Anonymous, bud in da schoolbooks." "That's right," Zara said. "Well, we'll be off." "Hold it a second," J.C. said. "You people feel grateful to these guys?" "Forever!" "So they could trust you." "Vid dere lifes!" "Well, it won't come to that," J.C. said, "but why don't you two sit down? Let me tell my story." So they all sat down, and some of the group switched to beer, and others stuck to champagne, and J.C. said, "When Grijk was here the last time, and I saw the advantage in being a country, I figured, Why not? So I've got my own country now, and I'm ready to cash in." Tiny said, "Josie? Whadaya mean, you got your own country?" "I've got consular agency offices set up in Geneva and Amsterdam and Nairobi and Tokyo, and now I'm setting up the commercial attache's office here in New York, and then the embassy in Washington, that's next." Zara was frowning like a steam engine. She said, "Excuse me. You and what army? Who are all these people?" "What people?" "The offices in all those cities." "Mail drops," J.C. said. "All forwarded here to the commercial attache. You'di^e surprised how many little countries do business by mail drop in different parts of the world." "No, I wouldn't," Zara said. "The world is an expensive place." "Exactly. Mail order has been my business for more years than I'm gonna tell you, and if I can be a songwriter and a police chief and a wife by mail order, I can be a country." Grijk said, "J.Z., were is dis country?" J.C. airily waved the hand not holding champagne. "Somewhere in the Atlantic," she said. "Vad's ids poppalation?" "Well, you know," J.C. said, "if truth be told, since it doesn't have any landmass, it really can't support that much of a population. The population's pretty much me." Dortmunder said, "J-C, you're gonna get caught." J.C. looked at him. "Who's gonna catch me? All the countries there are in the world, and more every day, and the old ones breaking up into smaller and smaller independent pieces, who's to say Maylohda isn't a legitimate country?" Zara said, "What was that? What do you call it?" "Maylohda," J.C. repeated, and explained, "You know, with my New York accent, it's how I say mail order." "Me, too!" Zara cried, and laughed, and said, "You're ahead of Votskojek! You're applying to the UN!" "Sure. It's part of the legitimacy, but, you know, that's gonna string out for years. Cause I don't really want to belong, too much trouble. I'd have to hire a whole diplomatic staff, maybe even find an actual island somewhere. I'm better off just being a lot of commercial consular offices, and a lot of brochures. See, here they are." She brought out and distributed nice four-color brochures, describing the wonders, natural attractions, scenic beauty, history, and economic potential of Maylohda, former colony (under other names, of course) of the Netherlands, Great Britain, and Spain. "This stuff was a lot easier to write than the how-to-be-a-detective book," she said. "I used the same printer as always. With this stuff, I can get seed money for feasibility studies of joint ventures in tourism, development of natural resources, and expansion of infrastructure. I can deal with banks, governments, trade associations, the UN, and the IMF. It's harder now at the beginning because there isn't any track record, which is why I was going to ask the guys to travel to some other countries and send me back orders and commissions and stuff, but maybe me and you people could trade somehow. Sell me something, or buy something from me. Maybe you'd like a million copies of the detective book, or some national anthems." Sounding mournful, Grijk said, "If only you could be a customer for our rocks." "Oh, I remember your rocks," J.C. said. "Sure, I'll buy them." Zara was never far from suspicion. Squinting at J.C., she said, "How?" "We're a low-lying island nation," J.C. explained; "you have no idea how low-lying. Like Holland, we want to expand our landmass, build acreage out into the sea. We'll buy your rocks to build up our coastline. What you do, you put together a proposal; you inflate the price a little so I can skim for myself; I put it together with my proposal for new acreage; I take it to one of the development commissions, maybe straight to the IMF. We do feasibility studies--" Dortmunder said, "Don't they go look at the place?" "They look at me," J.C. said. "I'm a registered lobbyist for the nation of Maylohda; I already took care of that. I show them pictures, I write up my proposals, I talk cute, I cross my legs, I say we've almost got malaria licked out there, and dengue fever, and when would you boys like to go visit. Okay?" "Okay," Dortmunder said. Zara said, "But if you work the deal, and you buy the rocks, what then?" "You deliver." "We're landlocked," Grijk pointed out. "We god no ships." "Good," J.C. said. "We'll find a country with ships and some economic problems of their own. One of the Baltics or the Balkans, maybe. There'll be one official that'll be happy to go along with us, and now Maylohda must be real, it's dealing with two other countries." Zara said, "But where do they deliver the rocks?" "To these certain coordinates in the ocean." "And just dump them?" "Who knows," J.C. said. "With enough deliveries, maybe we'll make/fa, island there. Anyway, if s a start." Zara looked at the brochures. "This is exactly what such paperwork looks like," she said. "Naturally." "Only… If you don't mind." "Productive criticism from a real country," J.C. said, "can only help." "This state seal here," Zara said. "It's nice, with the lions and all, but shouldn't it say something on this ribbon across the bottom?" "That's what I said, too," Tiny agreed. "Liberty and truth, or one of those." "I don't like any of those mottoes," J.C. said. "They don't seem to cover the situation." Kelp said, "What about that line from John's family crest? John? How'd that go?" "Quid lucrum istic mihi est?" Dortmunder quoted, and explained to J.C., "It means, 'What's in it for me?'" J.C. smiled. "Can I use it?" "Be my guest." Tiny said, "Dortmunder, I've just got to ask you this." "Yeah?" "You were an orphan, right?" "Right." "Brought up in an orphanage in Dead Indian, Illinois, right?" "Right." "What was it, an orphanage run by the Bleeding Heart Sisters of Eternal Misery, am I right?" "You're right, you're right," Dortmunder said. "So what?" "So what are you doing with a family crest?" Dortmunder looked at him with disbelief. He spread his hands. "I stole it," he said.
This file was created with BookDesigner program
20/01/2008
LRS to LRF parser v.0.9; Mikhail Sharonov, 2006; msh-tools.com/ebook/