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query.
    “One or two partners is all you need,” Geary said. “Too many
goddamned partners’ll fuck you up.”
    “You gonna be around later? We could talk.”
    “Talk about what?” Geary said all big-eyed and innocent.
    Eddie glanced over his shoulder again.
    “Business,” he said grinning.
    That was it. The kid was a crook. Before the month was out, they’d
be taking a cut of the good stuff and building up a regular store for the
future. By the time the project got really rolling, they’d have some of
everything-worth-selling safely stashed away. Markets were developed around the
supplier with the lowest prices. You couldn’t supply goods any cheaper than by
stealing them.
    They agreed to meet out in the open down by the truck pool at nine
o’clock.
    After Eddie drove away, Geary slapped his skinny hands together.
“Yeah!” His hands had so little meat on them, they barely made a sound.
    The next thing was to find a place to stash the goods. His shelter
was out—not enough space and his roomy was too straight to risk it. He’d have
to find somewhere else. They might not need a big place to start, but it never
hurt to plan big. On Fuji, he and his partners had three whole shelters crammed
with some of virtually everything that had any retail value.
    There were at least fifty thousand people working Fuji. It’d be
years before there was anything like that on Verde. Everything was too visible.
He’d have to find another way, another place to stash the goods.
    If he had the money, he could bribe the Riggers to put him up a
hidden shelter somewhere, maybe in the jungle, but that could cost a fortune.
It would be a while before he had that kind of cash.
    Turning the problem over in his avaricious mind, he nearly walked
past the answer, right there in the dump.
    They didn’t use cylindrical drums much to ship anything
anymore—they were considered junk and surplus to be jettisoned into deep space.
About the only thing they used them for was fasteners, cables, pins and crap
that the Riggers used. When they were empty, they were discarded. Sometimes
they were grabbed up as trash barrels, but more often just left abandoned as expendable
material. Never mind that the goddamned things were made of strong, lightweight
composite and would last for decades in any weather.
    He was standing in front of a sloppy stack of twenty or more of
them, part of an ever-growing mountain of waste, each of them big enough to
sleep in.
    Perfect.
    He could move them into a spot in the jungle, line the damned
things up and put labels on them. The lids
clamped tight and would keep out the rain and bugs with no problem.
    Just perfect.
    He picked one up by the ends. It was light as a feather.
     
    * * *
     
    Eddie was right on time. Geary liked that. He didn’t like people
who weren’t good on their word to the letter. He leaned on the truck and
watched him walk up. He had that little cocky swagger that smart-asses had
nowadays. Geary hoped he wasn’t too cocky; there was a fine line between cocky
and stupid.
    “Gonna be a nice night,” Geary said.
    “You wouldn't think so if you was out in it,” Eddie said, reaching
for a cigarette. “Yeah, the bugs are terrible.”
    “Bugs up the ass, boy,” Geary agreed.
    “I saw one the size of a goddamned cat yesterday,” Eddie said.
    “Bullshit.”
    “Swear to God.”
    “Some of those cocksuckers bite, too.”
    “I bet.”
    Eddie lit up and blew smoke. “So this is the deal,” he said. “We
do this fifty-fifty.”
    “Seventy-thirty,” Geary said.
    Eddie sniffed and spat.
    “I’m taking all the risk, see,” Geary added.
    “Well, not all of it.”
    “You damned well believe I’m takin’ most of it,” Geary said with a
snort.
    Eddie took another drag.
    “You’re a greedy bastard, ain’t ya?”
    Geary let it slide. “Nope.”
    “I don’t need you, you need me,” Eddie tried, pointing a finger at
Geary then himself.
    “Well, I tell you what,” Geary said. “You can