"One thing more," said Torry. "What happened to the girl?"
Ferax opened eyes wide. "You tell me. She was gone, along with the stuff from the boxes. My men found you sprawled out unconscious from a blow on the head. You were suckered, friend. Suckered."
Ferax produced a metal ident card impregnated with coded electronic inks. "This will keep you out of jail if your cop friend has any such ideas. Also, it will get you in here to see me anytime, day or night, if you change your mind."
Torry laughed, but accepted the card uneasily. "That will be the day or night...."
Like all police stations, the building reeked of unwashed bodies and harsh disinfectants. In Grannar's office, Torry faced out the storm.
"Amateur!" said Grannar in disgust. "Why did I ever get mixed up with you?"
Torry glared back at him. "Our lovey-dovey arrangement is brittle enough to break off any time you want it that way."
Grannar shook himself like a wet dog. "Not yet. Whether you know it or not, you did pick up some interesting facts. I guess Tharol Sen has tricked smarter men than you. And she'll probably keep that partnership bargain, since Martians are funny about honor in a business deal. Since she was the one at the auction we can assume that the Martians picked up Roper from the wrecked escape ship and that he's alive."
"I'm sure she knows where Roper is," said Torry. "Now if I knew where to find her—"