"The motivation for crime has been removed, Mr. Prantera," Reston-Farrell attempted to explain. "A person who commits a violence against another is obviously in need of medical care. And, consequently, receives it."
"You mean, like, if I steal a car or something, they just take me to a doctor?" Joe Prantera was unbelieving.
"Why would anybody wish to steal a car?" Reston-Farrell said easily.
"But if I give it to somebody?"
"You will be turned over to a medical institution. Citizen Howard Temple-Tracy is the last man you will ever kill, Mr. Prantera."
A chillness was in the belly of Joe Prantera. He said very slowly, very dangerously, "You guys figure on me getting caught, don't you?"
"Yes," Brett-James said evenly.
"Well then, figure something else. You think I'm stupid?"
"Mr. Prantera," Dr. Reston-Farrell said, "there has been as much progress in the field of psychiatry in the past two centuries as there has in any other. Your treatment would be brief and painless, believe me."
Joe said coldly, "And what happens to you guys? How do you know I won't rat on you?"