Free F Paul Wilson - LaNague 02 by Wheels Within Wheels (v5.0) Page A

repeated and walked away.
                Junior was
about to go after him but a voice made him turn.
                “Bit off a
little more than you could chew, Mr. Finch?”
                It was
Heber.
                “What’s
that supposed to mean?” he asked the older man, who was leaning in the doorway
of his office as he watched the offworlder.
                “It means
that I happened to overhear your conversation with Rmrl. I suppose I could have
closed the door, but knowing what’s going on in this town is part of my job.”
For a few fleeting seconds his eyes locked with Junior’s, then: “Come inside a
minute, Mr. Finch – please.”
                “Why?”
Frustration and bafflement were edging him into a hostile and suspicious mood.
                “Well, for
one thing, I think I may be able to explain to you why your little plan failed.
At least I’ll be able to give you something more than ‘wheels within wheels.’”
                Interested,
Junior grudgingly complied.
                Heber’s
office was small and tight-fitting, most of the room taken up by filing
cabinets and a huge desk handmade from local wood. A Vanek carving,
unmistakable in its style, of a Jebinose species of fowl in a natural woodland
setting was prominently displayed on a corner shelf.
                “I thought
you said there were no Vanek carvings left around here,” Junior remarked as he
caught sight of the object.
                “I meant
there were none for sale. That one’s a personal gift from one of the elders.”
                Junior
showed his surprise. “A gift?”
                “Sure. I
have pretty good relations with the Vanek myself. I rather like them. They’re
quiet, peaceful, and they mind their own business: an all-too-rare quality
these days.”
                “I get the
point.”
                Heber
smiled. “There’s an ancient saying about ‘if the shoe fits… ’ But I wasn’t
necessarily referring to you, Mr. Finch. In fact, I have no objections
whatsoever to your scheme against Jeffers – except, perhaps, to its overall
ineptness.”
                Again
Junior’s face registered surprise.
                “Since our
little chat yesterday, you’ve been convinced that I’m some sort of a bigot, eh?
You’ve probably got this whole town pegged as being full of bigots, too. It’s
not, I assure you. We have our share, but let me warn you: overgeneralization
can be a serious error on the part of someone trying to institute a few
changes.”
                Junior
mulled this over. “Could be I owe you an apology–”
                “But you’re
not ready to say so for sure yet. Just as well. I wouldn’t want to hear it
anyway.” He ran his fingers through a shock of graying hair and indicated a
rickety chair. “Let me tell you why your attempt at a boycott failed.”
                “I’m
waiting,” Junior said after seating himself.
                Sunlight
was pouring through the dirty front window and illuminating the cloud of dust
motes swirling in the air before him. There was a timeless air about the tiny
office, as if it had always been there and always would. Junior found his
suspicions and hostilities beginning to fade.
                Heber
cleared his throat as he took his place behind the desk. “Seems to me you
overlooked one major fact: Bill Jeffers owns the only general store within
thirty kilometers. His closest competitor is old Vince Peck over in Zarico. So
to put it simply: if the Vanek don’t get their supplies at Jeffers’ place, they
don’t get any supplies. And if they can’t get any supplies, they don’t eat.”
                “I find
that hard to believe,” Junior said. “The Vanek were here long before Bill
Jeffers arrived with his