“What?” asked Duncan.
Roo couldn’t contain himself any longer. He laughed long and hard, then whooped. He said, “I’m going to be a very wealthy man, cousin.”
“How very nice for you,” said Duncan dryly. Roo didn’t notice his cousin’s lack of enthusiasm.
The floor of the coffee house was in chaos. Grown men screamed at one another and several fights had to be broken up by waiters. McKeller could be heard saying, “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, remember yourselves!” several times.
Roo had one man hurl himself across a table at him, and his battle training served him well as the man found only air where Roo had stood a moment before. The man knocked himself nearly senseless when he struck his chin on a chair.
Taking the steps two at a time, Roo found a pair of waiters protecting the upper floor from those not authorized to mount the steps. Not that the upstairs was much quieter than down below, but at least there was no brawling. Grown men seemed on the verge of breaking down in tears or screaming in frustration. Roo pushed past two angry men to find several more at tableside, confronting an equally angry-looking Masterson.
“I don’t care what you say,” screamed Masterson at a pair of men who leaned over the table, their hands pressing hard into the wood. “You signed the note, you provide the wheat, or pay the market price. You have three days!”
One of the men looked enraged, but the other looked ready to beg. “I can’t. Please. I’ll have to sell everything I’ve ever acquired. I’ll be penniless.”
Masterson’s temper seemed on the verge of getting the best of him. “You should have thought of that before you sold me wheat you didn’t have title to!”
Roo took him by the arm and over his shoulder said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, we’ll be back in a moment.”
“What?” asked Jerome, still angry.
Roo tried to keep a straight face and, failing, turned his back to the others around the table so they wouldn’t see him grinning. “How much?”
Masterson said, “They owe us two hundred thousand bushels of wheat, and they don’t own any!” Then he suddenly realized whom he was talking to, and started to snicker. Covering his face with the back of his hand, he feigned coughing. “I don’t care much for Meany over there, and his cousin Meaks isn’t much better. Thought I’d let them sweat a bit.”
“Are they involved with Jacoby?” asked Roo, keeping his voice down.
“No,” answered Jerome. “Not as far as I can tell. I did what you requested and ferreted out every syndicate or association that I thought had Jacoby participation, and they’re not among them.”
Roo said, “I’ve been thinking. We can’t ruin every investor in Krondor, else we’ll have no one to do business with. What do these two do?”
Masterson suddenly grinned. “Meany has a lovely little mill he manages badly, and Meaks a bakeshop that does a tidy business not far from here. Mostly they speculate, and only on a modest scale.” He whispered. “Someone must have put the word out there was going to be a bloodletting. I’ve got notes here from people two or three times over, far more than they’re worth if they default.”
Roo nodded. “Well, if we take Krondor Grain Traders and turn it into a permanent syndicate, it wouldn’t hurt our position in future to have a few businesses we own to constantly generate gold. Would you like to own a share in a bakery and mill?”
Masterson rubbed his chin. “Not a bad notion. You and I with Crowley and Hume need to sit and discuss this. We can bully out those other partners who came late, but Brandon Crowley and Stanley Hume were with us from the start.”
“Agreed,” said Roo. He turned and went back to the table. “Mr. Meany?” he asked.
The angrier of the two men said, “Yes?”
“As I understand it, you don’t have the wheat you contracted to deliver to us at the agreed-upon price?”
“You know I don’t!” shouted Meany. “Someone went out and bought up every grain from here to Great Kesh! I’ve word from every grain buyer in the Principality there is no wheat for sale anywhere! How can we meet these contracts if we can’t buy grain?”
Roo said, “An unfortunate circumstance to find yourself in.”
The other man, Meaks, said, “Please. If we’re forced to account on the due date, we’ll be ruined. I have a family!”
Roo pretended to think upon it, then said, “We’ll consider taking your note.”
No sooner were those words out of his mouth than Meaks was saying, “Oh, thank you, sir!” His relief brought him to the edge of tears.
Meany said, “You will?”
“At a reasonable rate of interest, and we may require property as . . .” Roo glanced at Masterson and whispered, “What’s the word?”
Masterson said, “Collateral.”