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. He'd played enough ante-up to know when a man was bluffing. "All right, then. Where are my files?"
"In the computer." Wiedermann indicated the screens behind him. "One of the computers. You'll never find them, you know. Not if you searched a lifetime. And I didn't say I wouldn't tell you. I haven't decided." "What do you want?" Xris demanded. "More money?" Wiedermann shook his head. "We operate in this galaxy at His Majesty's pleasure. At any time, the galactic government could revoke our license. If that happened, the total worth of the Crown Jewels couldn't compensate us for our losses. If your case results in legal action against us, I want to be certain we have a chance to win."
"Legal action?" Xris snorted. "What legal action? I'm trying to find my friend--"
"It's up to you," Wiedermann interrupted. "If we decide not to proceed, you won't be charged for our time. We'll refund your retainer. You won't be out anything."
"Only eight years of my life," Xris said through clenched teeth.
"Tell me your story."
"I told you the goddamn story once. Your operative, that is. It's in the blasted files!"
Wiedermann leaned back in his chair. Crossing bony legs over bony knees, he put the tips of his fingers together.
Xris eyed the computer screens. His fmgers twitched. He was good with computers, but he wasn't that good. Dalin Rowan--now there had been the computer expert
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