"Nothing at all," Johnny blurted. "We were just talking."
"Talking." Tawney repeated the word as if it were some strange language he didn't quite understand. He looked at the guard. "Let's just check them."
While one guard patted down their clothes, the other withdrew a stunner, held it on ready. Tawney prowled the lounge. He glanced at the food on the table, then reached under the chair cushion and withdrew the disconnected microphone, looked at the loose wires, and tossed it aside.
"They're clean," the guard said.
Tawney's face was a study of uneasiness, but he clearly could not pinpoint what the trouble was. Finally he shrugged, turned on the smile again, although his eyes remained watchful. "Well, maybe you won't mind if I join in the talking for a while," he said. "You've been comfortable? No complaints?"
"No complaints," Greg said.
"Then I presume we're ready to talk business." He looked at Greg.
"You said you were ready to bargain," Greg said, "but I haven't heard any terms yet."
"Terms? Very simple. You direct us to the lode, we give you half of everything we realize from it," Tawney said, smiling.
"You mean you'll write us a contract? With a U.N. witness to it?"