Larry Woolford growled, “How'd you know I was on vacation?”
The other laughed. “You know better than to ask that, my friend.”
Larry said, “The vacation is over, Hans. I need some information.”
The voice was more guarded now. “I owe you a favor or two.”
“Don't you though? Look, Hans, what's new in the Russkie camp?”
The heartiness was gone. “How do you mean?”
“Is there anything big stirring? Is there anyone new in this country from the Soviet Complex?”
“Well now—” the other's voice drifted away.
Larry Woolford said impatiently, “Look, Hans, let's don't waste time fencing. You run a clearing agency for, ah, information. You're strictly a businessman, nonpartisan, so to speak. Fine, thus far our department has tolerated you. Perhaps we'll continue to. Perhaps the reason is that we figure we get more out of your existence than we lose. The Russkies evidently figure the same way, the proof being that you're alive and have branches in the capitals of every power on Earth.”
“All right, all right,” the German said. “Let me think a moment. Can you give me an idea of what you're looking for?” There was an undernote of interest in the voice now.