Nolan ignored the implied question. "Pretty long," he agreed. "I wasn't figuring on coming, but I heard Woller was here."
Petersen nodded his head sadly. "You're aching for trouble," he observed. "Woller's no man to buck up against. He's got money behind him."
"Whose money?"
"I dunno. Some Martian syndicate, they say. He's come a long way since he was your boss at Telenews."
"Not so long I couldn't follow him."
Petersen cocked an eyebrow, then poured another round. "You followed him into a bad spot," he said slowly. "This whole town is be-jittered. He's doing about what he likes and nobody says boo."
"Why?"
Petersen frowned. "'Cause they're scared, it looks. Scared of the Junta. Talk is there are Junta men around. I wouldn't have to remind you, I guess, of what Woller can say about you if he sees you."
Nolan nodded. "He won't see me—in time for it to do him any good."
Petersen shivered. "You're building up trouble," he repeated. "Woller's pretty near running this place."