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Suddenly, "Idylls of the King" disappeared. The screen went blank. This was either what he was searching for or he'd lost it.
The stranger picked up the eyeball, held it to the retina scan. A file came up. He read the header and smiled.
"Negative Waves."
CHAPTER 3
You're not a man, you're a machine.
George Bernard Shaw, Arms and the Man
The Wiedermann Detective Agency, with offices in every major city of every major planet in the heart of the galaxy, handled only cases that were far too important, discreet, and delicate for other, less sophisticated (and less expensive) agencies. The Weidemann Agency would not, for example, tail your philandering husband unless he happened to be the prime minister and the ensuing scandal could topple a government.
The agency was expert in corporate intrigue, both detecting it and performing it. They did not handle ordinary or sordid cases. They would negotiate with terrorists and kidnappers for you, but it would cost you plenty. They would not undertake to break your uncle out of prison, or remove him from a penal colony, but they would refer you to people who did that sort of thing. They would not find out who poisoned your sister unless you had proof that the local police were being deliberately obtuse and your credit rating indicated you could pay for a prolonged investigation.
The agency's offices were always located in upscale downtown professional buildings, rubbing shoulders comfortably with law firms that had twenty-seven names on the letterhead, and the offices of doctors whose names were followed by that many initials
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