Malloy frowned slightly. "But on Mars, we didn't." "Nope. I wonder if it could have been because we had their land and their mines and didn't think they had anything of value around their north pole?" "You're speaking disrespectfully of the System," Malloy said in mild disapproval. "You sound as though you think we moved in and took planets over. All we did was develop latent resources--" "--Make for the better life--" "--Invite them to join us for a greater System--" "--The same way the British and the Dutch and the French and the Russians did in ancient times here on Terra." * * * * * Malloy regarded his big feet with hostility; as though they and not Rex Tate had been speaking. "Do you want this assignment, or don't you?" "Sure I want it." Rex grinned. What other department chief would let a subordinate sound off? None except Malloy. That was one of the things that made up for the low pay. "All right--then shut your trap and listen. As I said, the Martians backed off into those hills and caves and hung out a _Private_ sign that we respected for three hundred years. Then, about six months ago, a Martologist named Spencer got tired of testing flora and fauna in the safe areas and wangled a permit to penetrate the taboo areas around the pole." Rex Tate straightened--honestly amazed. "Alone?" "No. In the company of his twenty-year-old daughter." "Good God! Why we wouldn't even send a nuclear battalion in there! Who issued such an insane permit?" "That's not our business. The criminally stupid ass is being hunted from other directions, but in this age of red tape and buck-passing I doubt if he'll ever be found. Our job lies elsewhere. We've got to find out what happened to Spencer's daughter." "What about Spencer?" "He came back." "Without his daughter?" "Yes." "I'd like to talk to the slob for a few minutes." Malloy dropped his feet to the floor. "Come on. I'll give you a chance." Rex followed Malloy out of the office. They got on an elevator that dropped them to a sub-basement. Malloy manned a scooter and they rode for several minutes down a long, straight corridor. Just when Rex wondered whether or not The Chief knew where he was going, Malloy stopped the scooter in front of a closed door. He opened the door and motioned Rex inside. The room was small and bare, boasting as furniture, only a rectangular table in its center. On the table sat a rectangular box. Malloy pointed into the box and said, "All right--start talking." A small chill danced down Rex's spine. In the box lay a serene-faced, middle-aged man with his hands folded over his chest. He had a rosy complexion and appeared to be napping. What an odd place for a man to sleep, Rex thought. He glanced up at Malloy. The latter said, "As near as we can tell, he's been dead for four months." "But--"