“Then go ahead.”

“You’ve obviously made a lot of money off of Santiago. Why are you willing to help me?”

“Santiago took his business elsewhere shortly after Duncan died. I owe him nothing. Besides, I’m a businesswoman: everything I own is for sale—including information.”

“Have you sold it to anyone else yet?”

“No one has asked—but if they do, I will.”

“All right,” said Cain. “What, exactly, do you have for sale?”

“I have the name, holograph, and current location of a man who dealt directly with Santiago. I have the names and holographs of four of Santiago’s agents with whom I did business three years ago. I have some of the gold bullion with its point of origin listed on the packing crates. And I know who killed Kastartos.”

“Kastartos?” asked Cain. “The man who tried to get Stern to turn Santiago in for the reward?”

She nodded. “From what I hear, it was a pretty dismal attempt.”

“And what do you want for all this?”

“I want you to kill Santiago.”

He looked his surprise. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Might I ask why?”

“Duncan Black was a good man,” she began. “Well, no, he wasn’t. He was petty and undependable and weak—but he was mine. Then he found out that we were dealing with Santiago, and he thought we could make a little more money by joining the organization. I don’t know what sort of proposal he made to them, but it didn’t work.” She took a sip of her drink. “He was found dead on Binder Ten two weeks later. The official cause of death was heart failure.”

“Are you telling me Santiago had him killed?”

“Santiago probably didn’t even know he existed. But somebody had him killed, and if it hadn’t been for Santiago, he’d still be here.” She paused. “He wasn’t much, but he was all I had.” She stared at Cain. “Santiago didn’t know Duncan, and I don’t know Santiago. It will be a fair trade.”

“All right,” said Cain. “Let’s see what you have.”

She rose, walked to a wall safe that was concealed behind a large, lightweight computer screen, punched out a combination on the lock, and opened it.

“You can take these with you,” she said, withdrawing a number of items from the safe and returning to her chair. “I have copies.”

“Somehow I was sure you did,” he remarked, reaching over and taking a number of holographs from her.

“The top four are the agents I dealt with,” she explained. “Their names are on the backs.”

“One of them looks like a methane-breather,” said Cain, holding up a holograph of a delicate crystalline being.

“He is,” she said. “I only saw him once. He was very uncomfortable in his life-support paraphernalia. I suspect after his initial trip here he found a convenient drop point for his merchandise.”