But our methods are our own property.”
Robin Weinbaum smiled twistedly. “I’m not a naive man, Mr. Stevens,” he said. “My service is hard on naivete. You know as well as I do that the government can’t allow you to operate on a free-lance basis, supplying top-secret information to anyone who can pay the price, or even free of charge to video columnists on a ‘test’ basis, even though you arrive at every jot of that information independently of espionage which I still haven’t entirely ruled out, by the way. If you can duplicate this Brindisi performance at will, we will have to have your services exclusively. In short, you become a hired civilian arm of my own bureau.”
“Quite,” Stevens said, returning the smile in a fatherly way. “We anticipated that, of course. However, we have contracts with other governments to consider; Erskine, in particular. If we are to work exclusively for Earth, necessarily our price will include compensation for renouncing our other accounts.”
“Why should it? Patriotic public servants work for their government at a loss, if they can’t work for it any other way.”
“I am quite aware of that. I am quite prepared to renounce my other interests. But I do require to be paid.”
“How much?” Weinbaum said, suddenly aware that his fists were clenched so tightly that they hurt.
Stevens appeared to consider, nodding his flowery white poll in senile deliberation. “My associates would have to be consulted. Tentatively, however, a sum equal to the present appropriation of your bureau would do, pending further negotiations.”