"Well, then, suppose you tell me what you want with me."
Jorane Sutt did not waste his time in the luxury of annoyance.
As secretary to the mayor, he had held off opposition councilmen, jobseekers, reformers, and crackpots who claimed to have solved in its entirety the course of future history as worked out by Hari Seldon.
With training like that, it took a good deal to disturb him.
He said methodically,
"In a moment.
You see, three ships lost in the same sector in the same year can't be accident, and nuclear power can be conquered only by more nuclear power.
The question automatically arises: if Korell has nuclear weapons, where is it getting them?"
"And where does it?"
"Two alternatives. Either the Korellians have constructed them themselves-"
"Far-fetched!"
"Very!
But the other possibility is that we are being afflicted with a case of treason."
"You think so?" Mallow's voice was cold.
The secretary said calmly,
"There's nothing miraculous about the possibility.
Since the Four Kingdoms accepted the Foundation Convention, we have had to deal with considerable groups of dissident populations in each nation.
Each former kingdom has its pretenders and its former noblemen, who can't very well pretend to love the Foundation.
Some of them are becoming active, perhaps."
Mallow was a dull red.
"I see.
Is there anything you want to say to me?
I'm a Smyrnian."
"I know.
You're a Smyrnian - born in Smyrno, one of the former Four Kingdoms. You're a Foundation man by education only. By birth, you're an Outlander and a foreigner.
No doubt your grandfather was a baron at the time of the wars with Anacreon and Loris, and no doubt your family estates were taken away when Sef Sermak redistributed the land."
"No, by Black Space, no!
My grandfather was a blood-poor son-of-a-spacer who died heaving coal at starving wages before the Foundation took over.
I owe nothing to the old regime.
But I was born in Smyrno, and I'm not ashamed of either Smyrno or Smyrnians, by the Galaxy.
Your sly little hints of treason aren't going to panic me into licking Foundation spittle.
And now you can either give your orders or make your accusations.
I don't care which."
"My good Master Trader, I don't care an electron whether your grandfather was King of Smyrno or the greatest pauper on the planet.
I recited that rigmarole about your birth and ancestry to show you that I'm not interested in them.
Evidently, you missed the point.
Let's go back now.
You're a Smyrnian. You know the Outlanders.
Also, you're a trader and one of the best.
You've been to Korell and you know the Korellians.
That's where you've got to go."
Mallow breathed deeply,
"As a spy?"
"Not at all.
As a trader - but with your eyes open.
If you can find out where the power is coming from - I might remind you, since you're a Smyrnian, that two of those lost trade ships had Smyrnian crews."
"When do I start?"
"When will your ship be ready?"
"In six days."
"Then that's when you start.