"Just about any terms he dictated," grated the detective.
"Why tell me this?"
Grannar's eyes narrowed. "You want Roper for your own good reasons. I want him for mine. My hands are tied but yours are not. If you want him, go after him. I'll help, short of risking my job. I'm offering to make a deal with you. It occurs to me that a couple of smart men could make a real killing by knowing the right time to buy a few shares of stock in transuranics. A man like me might even make enough to retire to Earth, comfortably."
"You're beginning to make sense," said Torry. "What makes you so sure I'll cut you in for a slice?"
Grannar laughed harshly. "My nuisance value, for one thing. My usefulness for another. I'm an honest cop. But there's nothing in the rule book that says I can't pick up valuable information on the side while I'm doing my job. And nothing that says I can't put pressure on you to help me do it. Besides, why should you balk at doing me a favor when you're doing yourself one at the same time?"
"I'm still listening."
"New to Mars, aren't you?"
"New enough. I've been here before, but a long time ago and not for long then. Why?"
"Do you know anything about the local set-up, the governments?"
"Not much. It's a kind of anarchy, I think. The big companies and even the labor racketeers have private armies like the old goon squads. Legal government is just a front for feudal gangs, with the police sitting politely on the lid. Lobbies and pressure groups are the real bosses. Is that right?"