At last I flexed my aching arm. I began to put my identoplate away.

Bolz, who had been tying his Earth shoes, detected the motion. "Oh no, you don't," he said. "There's one more thing."

He scooped the blank stamped passes up, stack after stack, and locked them in a safe. And from it he then brought out an imposing-looking document. "Sign and stamp this," he said.

I looked at it as he laid it down on the table. Awfully official-looking. Ominous. It said:

I, Soltan Gris, Secondary Executive of the Coordinated Information Apparatus, Exterior Division, Royal Government, Voltar Confederacy (Long Live His Majesty Cling the Lofty), do hereby and herewith acknowledge the receipt of Freighter Invoice 239-765-933 AZ and all substance thereof.

Ialso herewith specifically state that it was ordered by me personally and that I hold all parties connected with this invoice, and all other sums ever given him by Zanco, totally innocent and blameless and do attest that they were acting under duress and by my orders.

(Signature)

Identoplate Area.

I read it wonderingly. I said, "All right, but WHAT is it?" I could plainly smell some danger in this.

"You'll get the invoice when you sign it and not until you sign it," said Bolz. "And believe me, I will be glad to get it off my hands!"

"But I can't sign a document like this. I don't know what it is. I could be shot if it's something illegal."

"Come on, come on!" he said. "You'll make me late for my plane! Sign it! Stamp it! You've never been finicky before!"

He had hours yet. What was this mad rush?

He saw I was hesitating. He reached out and touched the corner of the sheet. He was having trouble picking it up with his blunt fingers on that slick table. "All right, I'll just signify you wouldn't accept it. But I think you're a (bleeping) fool not to."

Cunning entered my mind. If the invoice proved wrong, I could still draw the stungun and shoot him and get this back. It might cause hard feelings. But it was the best way.

I slapped my hand down on the sheet just as he was

drawing it off the table. I pulled it back to me. I got out a pen. I signed it. Then I got my identoplate back in order, again showing hour and date, and stamped it.

He took the sheet and put it carefully in his safe. He took out another sheet. Thank Heavens, he left the safe door open. I could still execute my ploy.

The new sheet slid across to me. With one glance at it, my eyes popped and my jaw dropped. It said:

FREIGHTER INVOICE 239-765-933 AZ

Carrier:

Apparatus Space Freighter Blixo

Captain Bolz, Commanding

Shipper:

Zanco Cellological Equipment and Supplies

Chief:

Koltar Zanco

Item:

30,000 pounds in 50-pound bars 100% pure GOLD

I reeled. My head felt like a spiral nebula in full speedup.

My letter to Zanco had worked! I had told them they had denied me a chance to buy gold with the C 30,000 they hadn't bribed me with. And they had sent the GOLD!

"You want this document back?" said Bolz with a strange sort of sneer.

"Oh, Gods, no!" I cried.

My whole world had suddenly gone inverted. I had been at the bottom of the abyss. Just one glimpse of this had started me soaring.

"You've got it on board?" I said.

"Silly question" said Bolz. "But I'll humor you. Come down this ladder."

He led me to a storeroom. He unlocked the door. There were the boxes all lashed in place.

I dived at them.

I twisted the fastenings off the top one.

BEAUTIFUL YELLOW!

With an expert flip I got out my Knife Section knife and scored a deep scratch in one.

Pure, soft, gleaming gold!

I opened another and another.

Bars of glowing GOLD!

Two to the case.

Bars and bars and bars of pure gold!

"Three hundred boxes," said Bolz. "One hundred pounds to the box. Now if you can stop slavering long enough, come back up and initial my copy of the invoice."

I didn't want to leave. He pulled me out of the storeroom, ignoring the way my hands were automatically stretching toward the beautiful, beautiful gold.

Despite his tugging, I wedged myself in the door and counted the ends of the boxes.

"Oh, my Gods," said Bolz. "They're all there." He was still tugging at me. "You'll make me miss my plane!"

"...297, 298, 299, 300!" I counted. "They're all there!"

"Yes, they're all there," said Bolz. "And I'm Gods (bleep) glad to get rid of them, the kind of crew I've got and the price of gold being what it is on this planet. Now, watch. I am locking the door. Come back to my cabin."

He got me there. In a daze, I initialled the invoice. He put it in his safe and he locked the safe securely. He handed me the storeroom key. Then he picked up his grip and put on his civilian hat.

"You're on your own," said Captain Bolz. "Some of the crew will be aboard and I've told the mate they can give you a hand unloading it, but I take no responsibility for it from here on out. Good-bye."

He left.

I sank down at his table. I couldn't get my eyes shut: they were popped too wide, a frozen reflex.

Minutes went by. I became aware of the fact, at last, that my heart was still beating and that I was still breathing.

Thirty thousand pounds of gold!

Zanco had owed me a 30,000-credit bribe for all the hospital supplies I ordered. That meant that they had paid what must have been a professional price for the metal, a credit a pound. They used a lot of gold in cello-logical items because it did not tarnish and so did not poison cells. Well, that was all to my benefit: and it was a straight professional deal.

There was a law forbidding the export of metals that would upset the currencies of primitive worlds which was why the Apparatus had never done this on the Earth base. But if they were willing to overlook that, so was I.

I seized a scrap of paper off the littered floor and began to calculate.

The 30,000 pounds on Voltar would weigh about 25,000 pounds on Earth. That was 300,000 Troy ounces.

Gold had shot up lately. It was running around $850 an ounce. It had been that years ago and then had dropped but now inflation had caught up with it again. It would go higher, not lower.

I calculated further. I gasped. That was $255,000, – 000.00!

GODS!

I could pay off the credit card companies!

I wouldn't lose the villa. The staff wouldn't be sold into slavery. I wouldn't be sold into slavery.

More! With that much money, I could wheel and deal and wangle and get anything done to Heller and Krak that I wanted!

WOW!

It didn't even make any difference if she was using my credit card!

Who the Hells cared?

WOW! WOW!

I could buy that bulletproof limousine!

I could buy and sell anybody I wanted to!

Utanc even would fawn on me!

Oh, a gorgeous world was really opening up!

WOW! WOW!! WOW!!!

But wait.

Thirty thousand pounds of gold!

That was 12 1/2Earth TONS!

I couldn't even get a truck to carry it!

I could not hide it or bury it.

Keeping gold lying around meant its loss, as I had just so harshly experienced.

Ye Gods, I couldn't even get it out of the hangar!

No wonder Bolz had told me I was on my own.

My problem was I HAD TOO MUCH GOLD!

I briefly toyed with the idea of just accepting a little bit. But that was unthinkable. I could not abandon even a shadow of that beautiful metal.

Wait. I had to think!

The mistake I had made before was trying to hold on to it. I must not make that same mistake again!

If I turned up in Istanbul with that much gold, they'd investigate me to bits. My cunning plan of local buying through the Pahalt General Merchandising Emporium that I had set up earlier couldn't account for any amount like this. I doubted that there was this much gold reserve in the whole Turkish National Bank!