“We can’t leave our current assignment until our replacements arrive,” Phule said, almost to himself, “then there’s time in transit, and … Gunther, can you hold your grand opening until at least a week after we arrive?”
“I … guess so. Why do you want my personnel records?”
“Let’s just say I like to have some idea of who’s at our backs while we’re standing guard … Oh, and speaking of personnel, have you made arrangements for housing my troops?”
“Sure. I was going to have them stay at one of the small hotels down the Strip.”
“Cancel that. I want them to have rooms at the Fat Chance. A hundred rooms and a penthouse.”
“But rooms at the Fat Chance go for-“
“They’re supposed to be guarding your hotel and casino,” Phule said pointedly. “They can’t do that if they’re at another location when trouble hits, can they?”
“I … guess not. All right. I suppose with over a thousand rooms I can spare a hundred. Is that all?”
Phule nodded. “For the moment. I’ll probably be getting back to you soon with some additional requests, but that’ll give me a starting point.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you, Mr. Jester, I’ll sleep a lot easier now knowing you’re on the job.”
The youth’s image faded as the connection was broken.
For several moments, Phule and Beeker stared silently at the place in the room it had occupied. Finally the commander cleared his throat.
“How in the world did someone that ignorant and naive get to be a multimillionaire?”
“Not to belabor the obvious, sir,” Becker said softly, “I believe he inherited it.”