"I have nothing to return to."
"It is not easy, Winters. Shanga--the real Shanga, of which these
solariums and quartz lenses are only a weak copy, was forbidden
centuries ago by the City-States of Mars. There are risks, and
discomforts, which means that the process is expensive."
"I have money." Winters leaped up suddenly, his control breaking. "Be
damned to your arguments! They're all hypocrisy, anyway. You know
perfectly well which ones are going to take to Shanga. You keep them
coming until they're addicts, half crazy to feel the real thing, and
you know damn well you're going to give them what they want as soon as
they cross your dirty palm with silver."
He tossed a checkbook on Kor Hal's desk. The top one was blank, but
signed.
"There," he said. "Anything up to a hundred-thousand Universal Credits."
"I would prefer," said Kor Hal, "that you draw your own check, to
cash." He handed the checkbook back to Winters. "The full amount, in
advance."