“That’s probably true,” agreed Stern pleasantly. His cigar went out and he snapped his fingers. One of the fali immediately came over with a lighter and relit it. “That’s my girl,” he said, giving her boneless hand an affectionate squeeze. She wriggled all over with delight like a puppy, then returned to her position across the room. “A wonderful pet,” commented Stern. “Faithful, adoring, and totally unable to utter a sound—three qualities I never found in any woman of my acquaintance.” He paused and stared fondly at her. “What a sweet, mindless little thing she is! But back to business, Mr. Cain. You wish to talk about Santiago.”

“That’s right.”

“You are prepared to pay, of course?”

Cain nodded.

“There is an old saying, Mr. Cain, that talk is cheap. I hope you do not believe in it.”

“I believe in paying for value received,” replied Cain.

“Excellent! You’re a man after my own heart.”

“Really?” said Cain dryly. “I would have been willing to bet that not a single thing in this apartment had been paid for.”

“They have all been paid for, Mr. Cain,” said Stern with an amused smile. “Not with money, perhaps, but with human grief and suffering and even human life. A much higher price, wouldn’t you say?”

“It depends on who was doing the paying,” replied Cain.

“Nobody very important,” said Stern with a shrug. “Oh, they probably all had wives and husbands and children, to be sure, but they were merely spear-carriers in my own saga, which is of course the only one that matters to me. Certainly you must share my point of view, since the taking of lives is your business.”

“I value the lives I take a little more highly than you do,” said Cain. “So does the government.”

“And here we are, back to discussing value and money once more,” said Stern. “I think I shall charge you fifteen thousand credits to continue our conversation, Mr. Cain.”

“For that, I want more than a physical description of a man you haven’t seen in fifteen or twenty years,” replied Cain. “I want the name and location of the jail, I want to know when you were incarcerated, and I want the name Santiago was using at the time.”

“But of course!” said Stern. “Do I strike you as a man who would withhold information, Mr. Cain?”

“I don’t know,” said Cain. “Are you?”

“Perish the thought,” said Stern.

“How comforting to know that.”

“I’m so glad that we understand each other, Mr. Cain. May I first see, as we say in the trade, the color of your money?”

Cain pulled out his wallet, counted off the appropriate amount, and handed it over.