"Hold it," the Wazzenazzian said crisply. "The Consulate can't help you. I can."
"You?" I said.
"I can get you out of this cheap."
"How cheap?"
Gorb grinned rakishly. "Five thousand in cash plus a contract as a specimen with your outfit. In advance, of course. That's a heck of a lot better than forking over a hundred grand, isn't it?"
I eyed Gorb uncertainly. The Terran Consulate people probably wouldn't be much help; they tried to keep out of local squabbles unless they were really serious, and I knew from past experiences that no officials ever worried much about the state of my pocketbook. On the other hand, giving this slyster a contract might be a risky proposition.
"Tell you what," I said finally. "You've got yourself a deal—but on a contingency basis. Get me out of this and you'll have five grand and the contract. Otherwise, nothing."
Gorb shrugged. "What have I to lose?"
Before the police could interfere, Gorb trotted over to the hulking corpse of the Kallerian and fetched it a mighty kick.