susceptible to women? If I am not the woman he is susceptible to, perhaps I can find
her.’
Dixon didn’t cotton to me at all (nor I to him, but that was unimportant) and he did
not seem to have any cracks in his armour. After the Power Syndicate voted to shut
down the Paradise plant ‘in the public interest’ I was successful only in getting
George and Mr Harriman to vote against reactivating that giant bomb in orbit –
theirs were the only dissenting votes. The death scenario rolled on and I could not
stop it: power satellite and spaceship Charon blew up together, all hands killed –
and I stared at the ceiling for nights on end, reflecting on the bad side of knowing
too much about the future.
But I did not stop working. Back in 1952, shortly after I had given George my
earliest predictions, I had gone to Canada to see Justin: 1) to set up a front to
handle business for my ‘Prudence Penny’ column, and 2) to offer Justin the same
detailed predictions I was giving George.
Justin had not been pleased with me. ‘Maureen, do I understand that you have been
holding all these years additional information you got from Sergeant Bronson – or
Captain Long, whatever – the Howard from the future – and did not turn it over to
the Foundation?’
‘Yes.’
Justin had shown an expression of controlled exasperation. ‘I must confess to
surprise. Well, better late than never. Do you have it in writing, or will you
dictate it?’
‘I’m not turning it over to you, Justin. I will continue to pass on to you, from
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time to time, data that I have conserved, item by item, as you need to know it’
‘Maureen, I really must insist. This is Foundation business. You got these data from
a future chairman of the Foundation – so he claimed and so I believe – so I am their
proper custodian. I am speaking not as your old friend Justin, but as Justin
Weatheral in my official capacity as chief executive officer of the Foundation and
conservator of its assets for the benefit of all of us.’
‘No, Justin.’
‘I must insist’
‘Insist away, old dear – it’s good exercise.’
‘That’s hardly the right attitude, Maureen. You don’t own that data. It belongs to
all of us. You owe it to the Foundation.’
`Justin, don’t be so tediously male! Data from Sergeant Theodore saved the
Foundation’s bacon on Black Tuesday, in 1929. Stipulated?’
`Stipulated. That’s why -‘
‘Let me have my say. And that same data also saved your arse and made you rich – and
made the Foundation rich. Why? How? Who? Old busy-bottom Maureen, that’s who!
Because I’m an amoral wench who fell in love with this enlisted man and kicked his
feet out from under him – and got him to talking. That had nothing to do with the
Foundation, just me and my loose ways. I’ll hadn’t cut you in on it, you would never
have met Theodore. Admit it! True? False? Answer me.’
`Well, when you put it that way -‘
`I do put it that way and let’s have no more nonsense about what I owe the
Foundation. Not until you’ve counted up what the Foundation owes me. I still promise
to pass on data as needed. Right now, the Foundation should get heavily into
Douglas-Martin Sunpower screens, and if you don’t know about them, see your files of
The Economist or the Wall Street Journal or the Toronto Star. After that, the
hottest new investment as soon as it opens up will be rolling roads and real estate
near them.’
‘Rolling roads?’
`Damn it, Justin, I know Theodore mentioned them in that rump meeting of the board
on Saturday 29 June, 1918, as I took notes and typed them out and gave you a copy,
as well as the original to Judge Sperling. Look it up.’ So clear back in 1952 I
showed Justin where the principal roadtowns would be, as told to me by Theodore.
‘Watch for them, get in early. Enormous profits to the early birds. But get rid of