Atlas Shrugged [267]
Rearden. Don't sacrifice them. Examine their cause. There is a limit to how much you should have to bear."
"How did you know this about me?"
"I made the same mistake, once. But not for long."
"I wish-" Rearden began and stopped abruptly.
Francisco smiled. "Afraid to wish, Mr. Rearden?"
"I wish I could permit myself to like you as much as I do."
"I'd give-" Francisco stopped; inexplicably, Rearden saw the look of an emotion which he could not define, yet felt certain to be pain; he saw Francisco's first moment of hesitation. "Mr. Rearden, do you own any d'Anconia Copper stock?"
Rearden looked at him, bewildered. "No."
"Some day, you'll know what treason I'm committing right now, but . . . Don't ever buy any d'Anconia Copper stock. Don't ever deal with d'Anconia Copper in any way."
"Why?"
"When you'll learn the full reason, you'll know whether there's ever been anything-or anyone-that meant a damn to me, and . . . and how much he did mean."
Rearden frowned: he had remembered something. "I wouldn't deal with your company. Didn't you call them the men of the double standard? Aren't you one of the looters who is growing rich right now by means of directives?"
Inexplicably, the words did not hit Francisco as an insult, but cleared his face back into his look of assurance. "Did you think that it was I who wheedled those directives out of the robber-planners?"
"If not, then who did it?"
"My hitchhikers."
"Without your consent?"
"Without my knowledge."
"I'd hate to admit how much I want to believe you-but there's no way for you to prove it now."
"No? I'll prove it to you within the next fifteen minutes."
"How? The fact remains that you've profited the most from those directives."
"That's true. I've profited more than Mr. Mouch and his gang could ever imagine. After my years of work, they gave me just the chance I needed."
"Are you boasting?"
"You bet I am!" Rearden saw incredulously that Francisco's eyes had a hard, bright look, the look, not of a party hound, but of a man of action. "Mr. Rearden, do you know where most of those new aristocrats keep their hidden money? Do you know where most of the fair share vultures have invested their profits from Rearden Metal?"
"No, but-"
"In d'Anconia Copper stock. Safely out of the way and out of the country. D'Anconia Copper-an old, invulnerable company, so rich that it would last for three more generations of looting. A company managed by a decadent playboy who doesn't give a damn, who'll let them use his property in any way they please and just continue to make money for them-automatically, as did his ancestors. Wasn't that a perfect setup for the looters, Mr. Rearden? Only-what one single point did they miss?"
Rearden was staring at him. "What are you driving at?"
Francisco laughed suddenly. "It's too bad about those profiteers on Rearden Metal. You wouldn't want them to lose the money you made for them, would you, Mr. Rearden? But accidents do happen in the world-you know what they say, man is only a helpless plaything at the mercy of nature's disasters. For instance, there was a fire at the d'Anconia ore docks in Valparaiso tomorrow morning, a fire that razed them to the ground along with half of the port structures. What time is it, Mr. Rearden? Oh, did I mix my tenses? Tomorrow afternoon, there will be a rock slide in the d'Anconia mines at Orano-no lives lost, no casualties, except the mines themselves. It will be found that the mines are done for, because they had been worked in the wrong places for months-what can you expect from a playboy's management? The great deposits of copper will be buried under tons of mountain where a Sebastian d'Anconia would not be able to reclaim them in less than three years, and a People's State will never reclaim them at all. When the stockholders begin to look into things, they will