"Who are you?"
"Maybe you'd better come back some other time," the small man said to Benteley. "This isn't exactly the——"
"I didn't come this far to get chucked out," Benteley said hoarsely. "Where's Verrick?"
The girl eyed him curiously. "You want to see Reese? What are you selling?"
"I'm a biochemist," Benteley answered, "looking for a class 8-8 position."
Amusement twisted the girl's lips. "Is that so? Interesting... ." She shrugged her bare shoulders. "Swear him, Peter."
The small man hesitated.
"I'm Peter Wakeman," he said to Benteley. "This girl is Eleanor Stevens, Verrick's private secretary."
It wasn't exactly what Benteley had expected. There was a silence as the three of them appraised one another.
"The MacMillan passed him in," Wakeman said presently. "There's an open call for 8-8 people. But I think Verrick has no need for more biochemists."
"What do you know about it?" Eleanor Stevens demanded. "You're not running personnel."
"I'm using common sense." Very deliberately Wakeman moved between the girl and Benteley. "I'm sorry," he said to the man. "You're wasting your time here. Go to the Hill offices—they're always buying and selling biochemists."
"I know," Benteley said. "I've worked for the Hill system since I was sixteen."
"Then what do you want here?" Eleanor asked.
"Oiseau-Lyre dropped me."
"Go over to Soong."
"I'm not working for any more Hills!" Benteley's voice lifted harshly. "I'm through with the Hills."
"Why?" Wakeman asked.
Benteley grunted.
"The Hills are corrupt. The whole system's decaying. It's up for sale to the highest bidder... and bidding's going on."