"He's a clever cuss,” agreed Russ.
"Take a look at that machine now.” urged Scorio. “See if they're watching. You shouldn't have come here. You should have let me know and I would have met you some place. I can't have people knowing where my hide-out is.” “Quiet down,” snapped Stutsman. “I haven't got the machine. It weighs half a ton."
Scorio sank deeper into his chair, worried. “Do you want to take a chance and talk business?"
"Certainly. That's why I'm here. This is the proposition. Manning and Page are working in a laboratory out on the West Coast, in the mountains. I'll give you the exact location later. They have some papers we want. We wouldn't mind if something happened to the laboratory. It might, for example blow up. But we want the papers first."
* * *
Scorio said nothing. His face was quiet and cunning.
"Give me the papers,” said Stutsman, “and I'll see that you get to any planet you want to. And I'll give you two hundred thousand in Interplanetary Credit certificates. Give me proof that the laboratory blew up or melted down or something else happened to it and I'll boost the figure to five hundred thousand."
Scorio did not move a muscle as he asked: “Why don't you have some of your own mob do this job?"
"Because I can't be connected with it in any way,” said Stutsman. “If you slip up and something happens, I won't be able to do a thing for you. That's why the price is high."
The gangster's eyes slitted. “If the papers are worth that much to you, why wouldn't they be worth as much to me?"