“It’s got to be a good price. I’ll be selling out completely.”

“I’ll make it a good price. But this is the deal. I pay two thousand dollars, cash. I get Earth, the whole planet, and you have to throw in some stuff on the Moon. Fishing rights, mineral rights and rights to Moon-buried treasure. How about it?”

“It’s a hell of a lot.”

“I know it’s a lot,” he agreed. “But I’m paying a lot.”

“Not for what you’re asking. Let me think about it.”

This was the big deal, the big giveaway. I didn’t know how much money the TV people had given him to fool around with, but I was pretty sure two thousand was just a starting point. Only what was a sensible, businesslike price for the whole world?

I mustn’t be made to look like a penny-ante chiseler on TV. There was a top figure Eksar had been given by the program director.

“You really want the whole thing,” I said, turning back to him, “the Earth and the Moon?”

He held up a dirty hand. “Not all the Moon. Just those rights on it. The rest of the Moon you can keep.”

“It’s still a lot. You’ve got to go a hell of a lot higher than two thousand dollars for any hunk of real estate that big.”

Eksar began wrinkling and twitching. “How—how much higher?”

“Well, let’s not kid each other. This is the big time now! We’re not talking about bridges or rivers or seas. This is a whole world and part of another that you’re buying. It takes dough. You’ve got to be prepared to spend dough.”

“How much?” He looked as if he were jumping up and down inside his dirty Palm Beach suit. People going in and out of the store kept staring at us. “How much?” he whispered.

“Fifty thousand. It’s a damn low price. And you know it.”

Eksar went limp all over. Even his weird eyes seemed to sag. “You’re crazy,” he said in a low, hopeless voice. “You’re out of your head.”