He felt only a single moment of doubt: a small voice in his head reminding him what they would use the DNA for. That sort of money definitely meant private zoos: illegal cloning and a life of slavery for an innocent individual who happened to share genetic sequences with a famous name. The voice had nothing to do with any plug-in. Simms pushed it out of his mind.
Once both parties had all the assurances and agreements they needed, Simms took his leave. He asked no questions beyond how to get in touch with them. He didn't bother with the statutory recounting of the terms of the law. They'd given him a month to find the rare and highly valued DNA of the dead rock star Tom Jacks. That was all he needed.
He spent the next twelve hours trawling all the public and private networks he could thi
