“I have it right here,” the general said, referring to a sheet of paper on the desk before him. “Yes. Here it is. The contracting party is Gunther Rafael.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“What was that, Captain?”
“There are two things wrong with that, General,” Phule said hurriedly. “First of all, while I’ve never met Mr. Rafael, I’m familiar with his reputation, and he’s always been dead set against gambling of any form. Consequently it’s hard for me to believe that he owns a casino.”
“I see.” The general frowned. “And the other?”
“The other thing is that Gunther Rafael died nearly a year ago.”
“He did?” Blitzkrieg was scowling now, examining the paper again. “Ah! Here’s the problem. My mistake, Captain. It’s Gunther Rafael, Junior, that’s hiring you. Apparently the son doesn’t share his father’s dislike of gambling. Does that answer your question?”
“Not my first question: Why us?”
“Maybe he thinks hiring you will generate some publicity. You’ll have to ask Mr. Rafael that,” the general said. “But let me warn you, Captain, it’s not the Legion policy to try to discourage clients from hiring us. Get my drift?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. As I said, your orders will be forthcoming. Another Legion company has been dispatched to take over your current assignment. You and your company are to leave for Lorelei as soon as they arrive. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. Enjoy your new assignment, Captain Jester. Blitzkrieg out.”
Phule turned off the holo unit and sank into a chair.
“All right, Beeker,” he said. “What’s wrong with this picture?”