o taps, no snoopers, and no
checkups other than the regular periodic psychans. I'll consult with you
on vacation time and will arrange it to suit your convenience. I'll even
agree to emergency recall, but that's the limit." Kennon's voice was
flat.

"You realize I'm agreeing to give you a great deal of personal liberty,"
Alexander said. "How can I protect myself?"

"I'll sign a contingency rider," Kennon said, "if you will specify
precisely what security matters I am not to reveal."

"I accept," Alexander said. "Consider yourself hired." He touched
a button on his desk. "Prepare a standard 2-A contract for Dr.
Jac Kennon's signature. And attach two riders, a full P-P-yes, no
exceptions--and a security-leak contingency, Form 287-C. Yes--that's
right--that one. And strike out all provisions of Article Twelve which
conflict with the Peeper Laws. Yes. Now--and finish it as soon as you
can." He touched another button. "Well, that's that," he said. "I hope
you'll enjoy being a member of our group."

"I think I shall," Kennon said. "You know, sir, I would have waived part
of that last demand if you had cared to argue."

"I know it," Alexander said. "But what concessions I could have wrung
from you would be relatively unimportant beside the fact that you would
be unhappy about them later. What little I could have won here, I'd lose
elsewhere. And since I want you, I'd prefer to have you satisfied."

"I see," Kennon said. Actually he didn't see at all. He looked curiously
at the entrepreneur. Alexander couldn't be as easy as he seemed.
Objectivity and dispassionate weighing and balancing were nice traits
and very helpful ones, but in the bear pit of galactic business they
wouldn't keep their owner alive for five minutes. The interworld trade
sharks would have skinned him long ago and divided the stripped carcass
of his company between them.

But Outworld was a "respected" company. The exchange reports said
so--which made Alexander a different breed of cat entirely. Still, his
surface was perfect--polished and impenetrable as a duralloy turret on
one of the latest Brotherhood battleships. Kennon regretted he wasn't a
sensitive. It would be nice to know what Alexander really was.

"Tell me, sir," Kennon asked. "What are the real reasons that make you
think I'm the man you want?"

"And you're the young man who's so insistent on a personal privacy
rider," Alexander chuckled. "However, there's no harm telling you. There
ar