"Yes."
He grinned a big toothy smile at me. "As a matter of fact, you're right. I hear you've got a big case. Non-terrie. Worth a lot to a Legal Eagle to be the first with a non-terrie case—"
"You're too late, you vulture," I said. "Interlocutory decree granted." I tapped my pouch. "Right here."
He shrugged. "Hope nothing happens to void it, old sport."
He winked at his silent companion, the staid and seemingly dumb professor. He turned back to me. "Sorry. Should have introduced you. Prof Cripps—this is my friend and competitor, Jose Obanion."
"Pleased," the Professor said, looking fearfully at the Government Eyespy over my head. His fingers went automatically to the engraved tablet he wore on a chain round his neck—a validated Loyalty Oath—as though to show the unseen TBI observers he wasn't really a friend of this Joe Mac's.
"The Prof," Honest Pancho said softly, "is a specialist in Venerian ethnology. He'd like to meet your clients."
That gave me a start. "He'll meet them. They're going to sing tonight."
The Professor's eyes widened. They looked shocked in his yellow painted face. "And dance?"
I smirked happily at Pancho. "And dance. At 1,000 prots each."