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matter of a load of illegally obtained ore involved,
as well."
     
                "Certainly
Mr. Leatherwell. I'll see to it myself."
     
                "No
need for that. The papers are all drawn up. Our legal department will vouch for
their correctness. Just sign here." Leatherwell spread out the paper and
handed Magnan a pen.
     
                "Wouldn't
it be a good idea to read that over first?" Retief said.
     
                Leatherwell
frowned impatiently. "You'll have adequate time to familiarize yourself
with the details later, Retief," Magnan snapped, taking the pen. "No
need to waste Mr. Leatherwell's valuable time." He scratched a signature
on the paper.
     
                Leatherwell
rose, gathered up his papers from Magnan's desk, dumped them into the
briefcase. "Riffraff, of course. Their kind has no business in the
Belt."
     
                Retief
rose, crossed to the desk, and held out a hand. "I believe you gathered in
an official document along with your own, Mr. Leatherwell. By error, of
course."
     
                "What's
that?" Leatherwell bridled. Retief smiled, waiting. Magnan opened his
mouth.
     
                "It
was under your papers, Mr. Leatherwell," Retief said. "It's the thick
one, with the rubber bands."
     
                Leatherwell
dug in his briefcase, produced the document. "Well, fancy finding this
here," he growled. He shoved the papers into Retief's hand.
     
                "You're
a very observant young fellow." He closed the briefcase with a snap.
"I trust you'll have a bright future with the CDT."
     
                "Really,
Retief," Magnan said reprovingly. "There was no need to trouble Mr.
Leatherwell."
     
                Leatherwell
directed a sharp look at Retief and a bland one at Magnan. "I trust you'll
communicate the proposal to the interested parties. Inasmuch as time is of the
essence to the GM position, our offer can only be held open until 0900
Greenwich, tomorrow. I'll call again at that time to finalize matters. I trust
there'll be no impediment to a satisfactory settlement at that time. I should
dislike to embark on lengthy litigation."
     
                Magnan
hurried around his desk to open the door. He turned back to fix Retief with an
exasperated frown.
     
                "A
crass display of boorishness, Retief," he snapped. "You've
embarrassed a most influential member of the business community—and for nothing
more than a few miserable forms."
     
                "Those
forms represent somebody's stake in what might be a valuable property."
     
                "They're
mere paper until they've been processed!"
     
                "Still—"
     
                "My
responsibility is to the Public interest—not to a fly-by-night group of
prospectors."
     
                "They
found it first."
     
                "Bah!
A worthless rock. After Mr. Leatherwell's munificent gesture—"
     
                "Better
rush his check through before he thinks it over and changes his mind."
     
                "Good
heavens!" Magnan clutched the check, buzzed for Miss Gumble. She swept in,
took Magnan's instructions and left. Retief waited while Magnan glanced over
the injunction, then nodded.
     
                "Quite
in order. A person called Sam Mancziewicz appears to be the principal. The
address given is the Jolly Barge Hotel; that would be that converted derelict
ship in orbit 6942,1 assume?"
     
                Retief
nodded. "That's what they call it."
     
                "As
for the ore-carrier, I'd best impound it, pending the settlement of the
matter." Magnan drew a form from a drawer, filled in blanks, shoved the
paper across the desk. He turned and consulted a wall chart. "The hotel is
nearby at the moment, as it happens. Take the Consulate