The Raft (8 page)

The Arrowsoft boy putted. He made the Space
Needle bank, he made the
Dick's
Drive-In
bank, he
made the opening to the Falls, but his ball lacked the momentum to
cross the bridge. It rolled back, coming to rest up against the
plastic waterfall.

“And there lies the bind that the Raft is
in.” Everyone was concentrating on the golf, but Gandalf kept on
with his pitch. “We're, for all intents and purposes, a trading
partner to the US. Perhaps you might consider us still part of
America – that point I will not belabor – but the very fact that
our two populations are forbidden to intermingle – for fear of
stiff tax penalizations – marks us apart.

“And as a US Trading partner, we suffer the
indignity of running a trade surplus with the mainland. Our labor
flows out, in the form of Rafters employed by dryfoot companies,
and money flows in. US dollars, yes, but money all the same. And
you see, that's our undoing – our Achilles Heel. What can we do
with money? What good is money to the Raft? Money is something that
should flow out of the Raft, and goods and services something that
should flow in. We're depleting our resources to maintain our
survival. For the Raft to grow, for the Raft to prosper, we need to
reverse that flow. And that, my friends, is the reason that
Arrowsoft should consider the Raft a viable site for a new
development center.”

Was anyone listening? It was hard to say.
They were having a good time, putting away. Was Gandalf talking
only for his own benefit? Was the whole meeting a failure? He had
to press on.

“You see, hiring a Rafter may be beneficial
for a dryfoot company. Lots of them do it. It's no different that
hiring a telecommuter on dryland. But even though the Rafters might
not feel any special commitment to paying their income taxes, the
dryfoot employer most certainly has to. There's no loophole that
keeps Arrowsoft, for example, from paying FICA on each and every
employee, Rafter or not. And this is where our mutual benefits
collide.

“You see, the Raft is jam-packed with highly
educated, skilled workers, many with degrees in exactly the fields
that technology companies such as yours require. Should Arrowsoft
open a development center wholly aboard the Raft – separate and
apart from its dryland parent company – it would be to the benefit
of both Arrowsoft and the Raft. Arrowsoft would get access to a
skilled workforce, costing pennies on the dollar to their dryfoot
counterparts. With no income tax, no Social Security, no OSHA, no
thirty-two-hour workweek, no government overhead at all, you could
double the take-home pay of every employee and see a reduction in
the company's overall payroll.

“Think about that: think about the bottom
line, and tell me what I'm saying doesn't make sense.”

Gandalf could see that his words were finally
sinking in. The Arrowsoft boys had paused in their game to listen
to what he had to say.

“And most of all, you'd be paying your
workers in Sum, not dollars. The Raft's own currency. Backed by
gold, backed by the labor of the Rafter's themselves. It's stable,
a genuine store of value. There's no inflation aboard the Raft, my
friends, no government constantly chiseling away at your company's
coffers to erase the evidence of their own misappropriations. An
hour of work you create aboard the Raft will be worth an hour
tomorrow as well as today. That's stability you can count on. Build
on.

“And for the Raft, I hardly need to explain
the benefits to you. Employment, stability, prestige. But most of
all, a reversal to that dreaded trade surplus of which I spoke
before. A change in the tide. Rafter labor, wealth staying aboard
the Raft. Money leaving for goods arriving. That is what the Raft
needs to prosper. And in partnership with a company like Arrowsoft,
the Raft might become something more than just a-”

“Oy! Get off!” a voice screamed at the far
end of the car deck, derailing Gandalf's sales train as it was just
about to pull into the station.

“Behave!” Maggie's voice echoed down the
length of the car deck. “Or it'll be the frying pan again!”

“What the hell-?” Gandalf caught sight of the
three figures walking the length of the
Kalakala
,
approaching Gandalf and the miniature golf course. Well, two
figures walking and one large man being dragged by the ear. Oh God,
no! Gandalf panicked. Not here, not now! Just when he was about to
cinch the deal – convince Arrowsoft that the Raft was the right
place for it to do business. “No! No! No!” he started crying out,
scampering in his bare feet towards Maggie, Chemial Ali G, and an
attractive red-haired women he'd never met. “No! No!” he waved his
putter at them.

“Maggie!” Gandalf shuffled up to the
approaching disaster. “What are you doing?” he half screamed, half
whispered.

“Chemical here resisted arrest,” Maggie said,
and gave Chemical's ear a twist.

“Ouch!” the large man with a bloodied face
screamed.

“No, what are you doing here, right now, with
him... here?” Gandalf struck the metal car deck with his putter,
punctuating his displeasure at Maggie's presence with an echoing
clank.

Perhaps when Maggie had said “wizard,”
Rachael had prepared herself with a mental image of Gandalf that
was wholly impractical. She'd certainly expected Gandalf to project
a more imposing presence, something more aged and all-powerful.
What she got was a small, middle-aged man, dressed in a Hawaiian
shirt, baggy shorts, and a pith helmet. She'd expected a wizard and
had gotten someone halfway between Hunter S. Thompson and an
unkempt biker. His beard, however, was most definitely substantial.
At least there was that.

He was furious, they'd obviously stumbled
into the middle of something. Other middle-aged, bearded men
watched from the greens of an elaborate miniature golf course,
along with three well-dressed young men.

“You don't know either?” Maggie let go of
Chemical. He collapsed down to the car deck, holding his injured
ear.

“Know what?” Gandalf replied, confusion
tempering his outrage. He looked down at the mess that was
Chemical, realizing perhaps that the situation was serious. “What
going on?”

“Meerkat, she's...” Maggie paused.

“She's what?” Gandalf prodded.

“She's dead.”

Gandalf let his putter clatter to the car
deck.

“No, she can't, I-”

Rachael spoke up. “Her body was found, washed
up on the shore of Bainbridge Island this morning.” Rachael took
the photocopy from her pocket, unfolded it and handed it to
Gandalf. “There was ID, her real name was apparently Joanna
Church.”

Gandalf took the photocopy, but didn't seem
to really look at it. He was dumbstruck. In shock.

From behind him, Orac called out. “What's
going on, Gandalf?”

“Nothing!” Gandalf snapped back to reality.
He handed back Rachael's photocopy, uninspected.

Gandalf's gaze fell on Rachael, silently
questioning.

“This is Rachael Hanks-” Maggie began to
introduce Rachael.

“Bigallo,” Rachael interrupted.

“What?” Maggie was lost.

“Bigallo. I'm Rachael Bigallo.” Rachael held
out a hand to Gandalf. “I'm an old friend of Maggie's. I'm with the
Times
.”

Maggie winced.

“A reporter?” Gandalf seemed to panic. He
looked nervously over his shoulder at the collected golfers on the
greens. “Good morning,” he continued nervously, taking Rachael's
arm and leading her away from the miniature golf course. “The
Times
you say? They call me Gandalf... the Wizard,” he
laughed uncomfortably. “This is my ship, the
Kalakala
...” he
waved a sweeping hand.

“Yes, I-”

“I purchased her in 2024, from the foundation
that was attempting to restore her to-” Gandalf was leading Rachael
farther away from the golf course and the representatives of
Arrowsoft.

Maggie took a few steps and caught him by the
arm. “Gandalf, we're not here for the tour.”

“Maggie,” Gandalf whispered. “Keep your voice
down.”

“Why? Everyone is going to know by
lunch.”

“No, I have clients here. From dryland.”

“Clients?” Maggie was confused.

“Clients. Business interests. People looking
to invest.” Gandalf shot a worried look at Rachael, and realized
she was no one he wanted to be whispering in front of. He let go of
Rachael's arm and took Maggie's, leading her away from both Rachael
and the golf game.

When they were out of everyone's earshot, he
said, “Maggie, what's going on?”

“Meerkat's dead.”

“Yes, you said. But what does Chemical have
to – where's Horus?” Gandalf realized.

“Put his boots on.”

“Then Chemical?”

“No, he just showed up suddenly while I was
aboard Horus's boat. He was as surprised as you to hear about
Meerkat.”

Gandalf gave Rachael a look out of the corner
of his eye. “And the reporter?”

“She's an old friend. She was worried.”

“But a
reporter
?”

“She's all right. She has connections on
dryland. She's useful.”

Gandalf nodded. The weight of the situation
hit him. “Oh God, Meerkat... what are we going to do?” he asked,
his eyes pleading.

“We're going to get Horus and turn him over
to the cops.”

“Yes, yes...” Gandalf nodded along.

“Before they get the urge to come out
here.”

The idea shocked Gandalf to attention. “But
if they do that...”

“Right, so I have to find Horus soon. It's
just... Chemical there,” Maggie cocked her head at where Chemical
still lay on the deck. “He has this crazy story... about Meerkat...
and why she was killed. We need to keep it under wraps.”

“Yes, I can imagine,” Gandalf agreed.

“Who's his Magistrate?”

“What?” Gandalf thought about it. “Does he
have one?”

“He has to have a Magistrate,” Maggie
countered. “How can he trade without a Magistrate?”

“He doesn't,” Gandalf exhaled. “As far as I
know.”

“Then how does he eat?”

“Well, his business isn't exactly aboveboard,
Maggie!” Gandalf exploded. “I assume he and Horus get everything
they need from dryland in exchange for their product.”

“And you've allowed this?” Maggie said in
shock.

“It's not against the law,” Gandalf was
defensive. “At least no Raft law, if we actually had any.”

Maggie growled, rubbing at her eyes. “Then
you've got to hold him. Here on the
Kalakala
.”

“I can't do that,” Gandalf protested.

“You've got to. If he starts shooting off his
mouth...”

“No, if word got out that I was holding a
Rafter against his will, I'd get lynched.”

“Gandalf, I need time. I need to move
quickly. I can't haul Chemical along with me. If I can't get to
Horus before the Feds get to us. Do you understand how people are
going to
react
?”

“Yes, of course, but -”

“But nothing,” Maggie interrupted. “Think of
something. I only need a day.”

Gandalf threw up his hands, tilting back his
helmet. “Today of all days, Maggie. I have three executives from
Arrowsoft right there. I was
this
close to convincing them
to move a part of their company out here to the Raft!”

“Gandalf...”

“Do you know what that would mean? What that
could do for the Raft?”

“I'm sorry Meerkat's bloody murder is an
inconvenience to you.”

“Alright, alright, a day. But that's it. You
know tomorrow is the Freaky Kon-Tikis. I can't haul Chemical all
the way up there. Word would get out.”

“I know, I know,” Maggie said gratefully.
“Thank you. And I'm sure Chemical likes putt-putt golf. He can play
with your Arrowsoft friends. Why don't you introduce them?”

“Thanks,” Gandalf rolled his eyes.

#

“I wouldn't worry, dear,” a voice came from
behind Rachael. “Boys and their business, you know?”

“I'm sorry?” Rachael said, turning to meet a
middle-aged woman carrying a tray of drinks. She had an aged but
well-dressed quality about her. She was wearing full makeup and a
number of large accessories. Her clothes were perhaps a few years
too young for her – a little too tight – but she was able to pull
off the look.

“Iced tea?” she asked, offering Rachael a
drink from the tray.

“Oh, no, thank you,” Rachael said.

“Are you with Arrowsoft, dear?” the woman
asked.

“Arrowsoft?” Rachael couldn't contain her
surprise. She looked back to the putting green and the three
clean-cut men. “No, no, I'm here with Maggie.” Rachael said, her
reporter senses tingling.

“Oh, Maggie,” the woman smiled softly. “We
all love Maggie so much. After that terrible business with the
Shane boy. She's so wonderful. A real hero.”

“Shane?” Rachael didn't follow.

“I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm
Tiger Print,” the woman said. “I'm Gandalf's wife.”

Tiger Print, it made sense. She wasn't
wearing a pair of tiger print spandex pants, but Rachael was sure
that the woman would have a pair of the titular trousers in her
closet.

“Hello, I'm Rachael Bigallo.” Tiger Print
held out a little finger from the tray, all she could spare, and
Rachael shook it.

“Nice to meet you. You're a friend of
Maggie's, you say? We get so few dryfoots out here, and today we
have so many. What a wonderful surprise. Are you sure you wouldn't
like some iced tea?”

“Yes, thanks, I'm sure.”

Maggie was returning from her private
discussion with Gandalf. She seemed content. Behind her, Gandalf
seemed frazzled. Maggie crossed the car deck and stepped up to the
woman with the tray.

“Tiger Print, dear,” she said and kissed
Tiger Print on the cheek.

“Maggie, what a surprise!” Tiger Print said
with honest joy. “What brings you aboard?”