"You’re safe," the President said. "We know every angstrom on this ship, believe me." He brushed an enormous crawling roach from the burlapped surface of Lindsay’s diplomatic bag. "You’ve scored, right? You want to buy into one of the cartels? We’re on assignment, but we can detour to one of the Belt settlements—Bettina or Themis, your choice." The President grinned evilly. "It’ll cost you, though."