"I understand," Broncov said through his big teeth. His lips tightened in his rage over Volonsky's direct speech, but he managed to say fairly suavely: "Your Highness, we appreciate your giving us a chance to buy your wells. Surely, a banquet is in order."
"No, I want to get out of this place. It's too cold."
Nick peered over his Volonsky nose-glasses. "How much, kid? No fooling."
"Volonsky!" Broncov barked. "Mind your speech. I'll handle this little deal. You're excused."
"Uh-uh." Nick grinned. "I stay for _my_ cut."
"You both look like a couple of crooks to me," said the young prince. "I want two hundred million dollars--in gold."
Broncov's hand shook as he reached for a row of buttons. "How about a bit of tea and cakes, or, perhaps something stronger before we discuss this matter with the Council? They're waiting just below us, and I'd like to present the deal already consummated."
"Got any Old Style Lager around?" Cletus asked.
"We have some good Bavarian beer, a stock we--ah--bought some time ago."
"I've heard how much you paid the Heinies. The beer I want is made in Wisconsin, USA, so I think I'll fly over there tonight. Super-San Oil keeps begging me to visit their country. Offered me two hundred million for my wells but only half in gold. I want all gold, and I won't discuss any other terms."
"Bungler!" Broncov whispered in dialect. "Why didn't you get him drunk, first? Without oil we can't carry on this cold war or kid the peasants much longer. Where in hell could we get even two hundred dollars in gold?"
"Go to hell and find all you want," Nick said with a wicked grin.
"I understood what you high-binders said," Cletus put in. "My cousin told me before I left home Communist clucks don't savvy Saturday from Sunday. Everybody knows you top boys have stolen everything not nailed down, and have stashed it away against the time your own people kick out Communism for good."
"Oh, come, Prince Navi, I don't understand how such an evil story started. Our people wouldn't dare--"
"Wouldn't they?" Cletus laughed nastily. "We have spies too, and we know your common herd would settle for anything else. Most of them want their church and their Tsar back, bad as he was."
"Bah! The capitalist press started that myth."