"Should I interpret that to mean I get the job automatically?"
"I couldn't swear to it," said Ludwig. "General consensus certainly favors you to continue. I'd advise that you show up at the hearing in person and present your program in detail; otherwise they may stick some smooth-talking politico in your place. The noise is slated to start at 1100, day after tomorrow. The eighteenth."
"I'll be there," Walton said. "Thanks for the tip."
He chewed the end of his stylus for a moment, then hastily scribbled down the appointment. As of now, he knew he couldn't worry too strongly about events taking place the day after tomorrow—not with Fred arriving for a show-down the next morning.
The next day began busily enough. Hervey was the first to call.
"The Citizen's sewed up, Roy! I had dinner with Murlin last night and weaseled him out of four percent of Citizen stock in exchange for a fancy tip on the new monorail project out Nevada way. He was grinning all over the place—but I'll bet he's grinning out of the other side of his mouth this morning."
"Is it all arranged?" Walton asked.
"In the bag. I was up by 0700 and consolidating my holdings—your holdings, I mean. Forty-seven percent of the stock I had fragmented in a dozen different outfits; the other two percent outstanding belonged to rich widows who wouldn't sell. I lumped the forty-seven percent together in your name, then completed the transfer on Murlin's four percent and stuck that in there too. Citizen telefax is now the property of Popeek, Roy!"
"Fine work. How much did it cost?"