Humphries broke into a satisfied grin. Randolph’s making his people double up, to save money. He’s on the ropes, and he thinks I’m going to save him from bankruptcy.

He laughed aloud. “Me! The savior of Dan Randolph!”

He was still giggling when he put through his call to Nobuhiko Yamagata.

The head of Yamagata Industries was in his Tokyo office, from the looks of it. Humphries could see through the window behind Yamagata several construction cranes and the spidery steelwork of new towers going up. Rebuilding from the last earthquake. They’d better build stronger, he thought grimly. A lot stronger. “Mr. Yamagata,” Humphries said, nodding his head once in imitation of a polite bow. “It’s good of you to take the time to talk with me.” He thought about putting Yamagata’s image on the wallscreen, but that would make the Japanese look too big. He preferred the smaller desktop screen. “Mr. Humphries,” said Nobo, nearly three seconds later, barely dipping his chin.

“It is always a pleasure to converse with you.”

Blasted bullshit, Humphries thought. You can’t come right out and say what you want with these Japs. You have to make polite fucking conversation for half an hour before you can get down to business.

To his surprise, though, Yamagata said, “Dan Randolph has asked me to invest in a new venture.”

“Let me guess,” Humphries said. “He wants to build a fusion rocket system.” Again the wait for the microwaves to reach Tokyo and return. “Yes, to go out to the Asteroid Belt and begin developing the resources there.”

“And what will your answer be?”

Once Yamagata heard Humphries’s question, his normally impassive face showed a tic of annoyance.

“I will be forced to tell him that Yamagata Industries is fully committed to rebuilding the cities that were damaged so heavily by the tsunamis and earthquakes. We have no funds to spare on space developments.”

“Good,” said Humphries.

Yamagata seemed to freeze into stone. At last he murmured, “It will be as we agreed.”

“You’d like to help him, wouldn’t you?”

The seconds stretched. At last Yamagata said, “He is an old friend.”

“You two were competitors at one time.”

“Yamagata Industries no longer has any operations in space,” the Japanese said slowly. “All of our energies are devoted to terrestrial developments.”

“So I understand.”

“But I agree with Dan. The resources from space can be of vital importance to our rebuilding efforts.”

“I think so, too.”

Yamagata seemed to be searching Humphries’s eyes, trying to penetrate to his secret thoughts. “Then why do you insist that I refuse to help him?”

“You misunderstand me,” Humphries said, putting on an expression of injured integrity. “I want Randolph to succeed. I intend to fund his fusion rocket venture myself.”

“Yes, so I understand,” said Yamagata, once Humphries’s answer reached him.

“What I do not understand is why you pressured me to refuse Dan.”

“Could you help him if you wish?”

Yamagata hesitated, but at last replied, “I could put together two billion for him.”

“Without hurting your rebuilding projects?”

The hesitation was longer this time. “There would be some… repercussions.”

“But I can provide the funding and you don’t have to take a penny from your existing projects.”

Yamagata said nothing for many long moments. Then, “You have put considerable pressure on the banks to make certain that I do not fund Dan Randolph. I want to know why.”

“Because I believe the same as you do,” Humphries replied, earnestly, “that all of Japan’s resources of capital and manpower should be devoted to rebuilding your nation. This fusion rocket venture is very speculative. Suppose it doesn’t work? The money will be wasted.”

“Yet you are willing to risk your own money.”

“I have the money to risk,” Humphries said.

After an even longer pause, Yamagata said, “You could invest that two billion in Japan. You could help to house the homeless and feed the hungry. You could assist us to rebuild our cities.”

Humphries worked hard to avoid grinning. Now I’ve got the little bugger, he told himself. To Yamagata he said, “Yes, you’re right. Tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give Randolph one billion only, and invest the other billion in Yamagata Industries. How’s that?”

The Japanese industrialist’s eyes flickered when he heard Humphries’s words. He sucked in a deep, shrill breath.

“Would you be willing to invest your billion in the Renew Nippon Fund?”

“That’s essentially a charity, isn’t it?”

“It is a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping those who have been displaced by our natural disasters.”

This time Humphries hesitated, paused, let Yamagata believe that he was thinking it over before he came to a decision. The damned fool. Thinks he’s so fucking smart, keeping me from putting any money into his own corporation. Okay, keep me shut out from your company. I’ll get you sooner or later. With as much of a show of concern as he could muster, Humphries said, “Mr. Yamagata, if you think that’s the best way for me to help Japan, then that’s what I’ll do. One billion for Randolph, and one billion for the Renew Nippon Fund.” Yamagata was actually smiling as they ended their conversation. Once he had switched off the phone, Humphries burst into enormously satisfied laughter. They’re all so dense! So blind! Yamagata wants to rebuild Japan. Randolph wants to save the whole fricking world. Damned fools! None of them understand that the world is done for. Nothing’s going to save them. The thing is to build a new civilization off-Earth. Build a new society where it’s safe, where only the best people are allowed to live. Build it… and rule it.

The Executive Board of the Global Economic Council met in a spacious conference room on the top floor of the undistinguished neomodern glass-andsteel office tower that served as the GEC’s headquarters. Originally, GEC’s offices had been in Amsterdam, but the rising sea level and pounding storms that raged through the North Sea made that city untenable. The Dutch struggled in vain to hold back the IJsselmeer, only to see their city’s narrow streets and gabled houses flooded time and again as the canals overflowed and the unrelenting sea took back the land that had been reclaimed by centuries of hard work. The GEC fled to London.

Not that London itself was immune to the rampaging storms and flooding. But the Thames was easier to control than the North Sea. And most of London was still above even the new, rising sea level.

Meetings of the Global Economic Council were usually restricted to the nine regular members and the privileged few who were invited to explain their positions or plead their causes. The news media were barred from the meetings, and there was no gallery for the public to attend.

Still, Vasily Malik dreaded this meeting of the Executive Board. Dan Randolph had demanded a hearing, and Randolph always made trouble. Vasily Sergeivitch Malik was handsome enough to be a video star. He was tall for a Russian, slightly over one hundred eighty centimeters, broad-shouldered and heavily muscled. About the same age as Dan Randolph, Malik kept his body in good trim through a rigid schedule of daily exercise — and rejuvenation therapies that he kept secret from everyone except his doctors in Moscow. Most people thought he dyed his once-graying hair; no one knew that injections of telomerase had returned youthful vigor to him. Malik enjoyed his secret. His Arctic blue eyes sparkled with good humor.

Until he thought about Dan Randolph. Once they had been deadly enemies in politics, in business, even in romance. The catastrophic greenhouse cliff had forced them into a reluctant alliance. The old enmities were buried; not forgotten, but put aside while they each strove in their own way to save what remained of Earth’s civilization.