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. You damn near let him walk off with this for a measly twenty thou. It's worth ten times---hell, make that a hundred times--more!
Bosk stared hard at the vidscreen, his brain flopping around, wondering how best to appear completely unconscious of the fact that he'd scammed the whole scheme and that it was big, really big, and that he was going to make a bloody fortune off it.
I can't let on that I know, though, was his next thought, which of course made him wonder if he'd already given himself away. He slid a glance over to the stranger, slid it back quickly. The stranger was staring at the screen, too, but with the abstracted gaze of one who is using a visual aid to enhance far-removed thoughts.
Bosk breathed easier. Noticing his hand was clenched around the glass so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, he forced himself to relax. He started to take a drink, then thought better of it, then was afraid that not taking a drink might seem suspicious. He brought the glass to his lips, set it down again untasted, and wondered uneasily how to bring the conversation around to where he wanted it.
At that moment, James M. Warden broke for a message from his sponsor.
Bosk cleared his throat. "What I meant to say is that the theory behind the device was sound. Ohme knew it would work. There was no reason to doubt it. It's all in there." Bosk gazed fondly at the computer
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