NATESA LAY THE HealthNet report on the desk and picked up her teacup.
"Three cantra in penalties. Three cantra earnest money, based on previous violations. Two cantra to rejoin." She sipped and shook her head. "The penalties are two cantra too high, and we can certainly force the earnest money down by a cantra. Yet, in our current state of budget, five cantra is as difficult as eight."
"Add Mr. McFarland's little matter," Pat Rin murmured, from his perch on the corner of the desk, "and we discover ourselves run entirely off our legs, with no hope of a quick recover." He moved his shoulders, irritated.
"And all the while, there are more than enough cantra to do the work, if I could but dare access them!"
Natesa stared at him, teacup arrested. "Is that so?"
Pat Rin met her eyes, frowning at her astonishment. "Is what so? That there are cantra sufficient to the task—and more—held on my accounts? Did you think you had joined with a pauper, lady?"
"It was not a consideration," she said composedly. "But, Pat Rin, this other—why do you not dare access your funds?"
He bit back a sharp retort. It was rare enough, after all, to find Natesa at half wit.
"You will see that I am not clever," he said mildly. "When I was about arranging the details of my former life, it never occurred to me that, some day in my future, I might very much wish for hidden funds. All of my accounts are woefully in sight, and the Department of the Interior will be watching every one. They will trace any transfer immediately, and follow it to us."
She sipped her tea, then put the cup down on the desk.
"Here is where the Juntavas is uniquely placed to serve you," she said. "Merely hire a courier."
"Yes, certainly!" he cried, descending into sarcasm. "Tell someone else where we are, so that they may sell the information to the Department!"
"Not so," she contradicted. "If we broke our contracts, who would deal with us?"
He sighed. "In fact, breaking contracts is bad for business."
"Precisely." She frowned, staring off into the middle air. Pat Rin reached for his cup and sipped, awaiting the outcome of her thought.
"It will be," she said eventually, "expensive. More so, for I cannot waive my fee in the matter. You will, however, retain between seventy and seventy-five percent of the total deliverable funds."
"The Juntavas takes one-quarter?" He raised a hand, signifying peace. "I make no quibble, if we have guarantee of anonymity."
"The fees cover several things—anonymity of the client is one. Discretion, timely delivery, real costs. My fee—is insurance. The Juntavas guarantees delivery, from our own accounts. Once the money is identified, and the transfer made to our various accounts, why, we do nothing but deliver the funds from our own nearest bank. No need to have couriers bounding to and fro like grasshoppers. If our courier is robbed of your funds, still we will deliver to you the agreed amount upon the specified date. So, you see why my fee must be taken."
"I do." He took his own turn at thought, weighing danger against necessity.
"Guaranteed anonymity," he said again. "The Department of the Interior, if we are to believe its agents—and I have predicated the subjugation of an entire world upon that belief—is no dismissible opponent."
"Allow us to know our business," Natesa murmured, retrieving her teacup. She sipped, black eyes considering him over the rim.
"There is no guaranteed safety," she said eventually. "However—if you will accept my advice—I think this course offers us more safety than any other; and gains us access to needed funding."
"My funds are in cantra," he said. "No more than twelve per cent of the delivery should be in cantra—the rest must be in Terran bits or regional currencies."
She shrugged. "A detail only. For such affairs, where the client pays a percentage, we calculate the conversion using the daily exchange tables published by the Bank of Solcintra." She inclined her head, ironic. "Unless the client requires another source be used."
"The Bank of Solcintra conversions are adequate, I thank you."
"Ah. You should also know that the flex in the fee structure has to do with the degree of difficulty in accessing the funds."
"I can provide pass-codes and ID numbers," he said.
"Good. Assume the deliverable will be closer to seventy-five percent; though there may be a hazard surcharge." A subtle smile. "Thus, the Department of the Interior is accorded the respect that it deserves."
"That is well." He finished his tea while considering other details. "So. I will take delivery at the Port . . . "
"I beg to disagree. Mr. McFarland will take delivery at the Port, with Gwince and myself as his back-up. You, my love, will remain well-guarded in your house, or perhaps you will visit Melina Sherton."
"Surely you and Mr. McFarland are of more value—" He began and stopped when she held up her hand.
"There will be no contract," she said, with an austerity one rarely had from Natesa, "unless this is done as I say."
He looked at her. "What shall I do if you are slain?"
"Avenge me." She lowered her hand. "Will it be as I have said?"
He slid to his feet. "Since the plan now involves Mr. McFarland risking his life, we will ask for his assessment. If he agrees, then we go forward."
Natesa smiled. "That is acceptable."