The Weapon Shop by A. E. van Vogt

Author:A. E. van Vogt [Vogt, A. E. van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy Novella
Publisher: Astounding Science Fiction
Published: 1942-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

The days passed. Fara worked. He had nothing else to do, and the gray thought was often in his mind that now he would be doing it till the day he died. Except—

Fool that he was—he told himself a thousand times how big a fool—he kept hoping that Cayle would walk into the shop and say:

“Father, I’ve learned my lesson. If you can ever forgive me, teach me the business, and then you retire to a well-earned rest.”

It was exactly a month to a day after Cayle’s departure that the telestat clicked on just after Fara had finished lunch. “Money call,” it sighed, “money call.”

Fara and Creel looked at each other. “Eh,” said Fara finally, “money call for us.”

He could see from the gray look in Creel’s face the thought that was in her mind. He said under his breath: “Damn that boy!”

But he felt relieved. Amazingly, relieved! Cayle was beginning to appreciate the value of parents and—

He switched on the viewer. “Come and collect,” he said.

The face that came on the screen was heavy-jowled, beetle-browed—and strange. The man said:

“This is Clerk Pearton of the Fifth Bank of Ferd. We have received a sight draft on you for ten thousand credits. With carrying charges and government tax, the sum required will be twelve thousand one hundred credits. Will you pay it now or will you come in this afternoon and pay it?”

“B-but … b-but—” said Fara. “W-who—”

He stopped, conscious of the stupidity of the question, dimly conscious of the heavy-faced man saying something about the money having been paid out to one Cayle Clark, that morning, in Imperial City. At last, Fara found his voice:

“But the bank had no right,” he expostulated, “to pay out the money without my authority. I—”

The voice cut him off coldly: “Are we then to inform our central that the money was obtained under false pretenses? Naturally, an order will be issued immediately for the arrest of your son.” “Wait … wait—” Fara spoke blindly. He was aware of Creel beside him, shaking her head at him. She was as white as a sheet, and her voice was a sick, stricken thing, as she said:

“Fara, let him go. He’s through with us. We must be as hard—let him go.”

The words rang senselessly in Fara’s ears. They didn’t fit into any normal pattern. He was saying:

“I … I haven’t got— How about my paying … installments? I—”

“If you wish a loan,” said Clerk Pearton, “naturally we will be happy to go into the matter. I might say that when the draft arrived, we checked up on your status, and we are prepared to loan you eleven thousand credits on indefinite call with your shop as security. I have the form here, and if you are agreeable, we will switch this call through the registered circuit, and you can sign at once.”

“Fara, no.”

The clerk went on: “The other eleven hundred credits will have to be paid in cash. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ve got twenty-five hund—” He stopped his chattering tongue with a gulp; then: “Yes, that’s satisfactory.

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