The Cause of Death Read Online Free PDF

how many languages that's supposed to be in," Kelly said. "We gave up trying to dope out what it means a long time ago. Now it's just a framed reminder that we don't know what the hell's going on, and the xenos aren't always that much help."
    "We need reminding?" Hannah asked, plainly amused.
    "What happened?" Jamie asked, allowing his curiosity to distract him. "I mean, with that message. Did you send an agent?"
    "Sure we sent an agent--to the coordinates attached to the message. They put the agent's ship at a point in deep space, well away from any star system, or anything else, for that matter. We tried maybe half a dozen variants on the coordinates--figuring anyone who sent a message that scrambled might have written the coords wrong, too. Put them in the wrong order, or written them in another number base. I don't know how many variations we tried. Finally, we had to give up. Never did figure out what it was supposed to be about. Maybe it was a prank, or a test message, or a trap that didn't get sprung. I doubt we'll ever know." Kelly nodded toward the message in Jamie's hand. "The current message is a model of clarity in comparison."
    Jamie shifted uncomfortably. "It's not all that clear to me ."
    Hannah reached for the message sheet. She read it over quickly and looked up. "What do you read it as meaning?" she asked.
    "It's a bit ambiguous, I admit," said Kelly, "but I read it as saying this guy Hertzmann has been convicted of murder, and they don't want all the headaches of keeping a xeno-prisoner, so they want us to pick him up."
    "Why does a xeno-prisoner make for headaches?" Jamie asked.
    "A xeno-prisoner?" Kelly asked. "From a species you don't know much about? What isn't a headache? What's the right diet? What's a legit medical complaint, or legal complaint, and what's bogus? Is there something that's standard operating procedure in our prisons that would offend the xeno's culture, or be harmful to the prisoner without our knowing it? Do you want a pack of other xenos--relatives, lawyers, reporters, diplomats, scam artists, Space knows what, showing up to try and get him out or score points off his being locked up? The list goes on. It's a lot easier to get the home culture to agree to make the prisoner take his or her or its punishment back home. I figure they want this Hertzmann character to serve out his term in a human prison."
    "Do we have a prisoner-transfer and sentence-equivalence agreement with the locals--or with any group of Pavlats?" Hannah asked.
    "No, we don't--yet. But you're going to get us one--a standard working-level law-enforcement basic agreement. Something the diplomats can pump up into a treaty when they get around to it."
    " If the diplos get around to it," said Hannah. "There's a pretty good backlog going."
    "About twenty years' worth," Kelly agreed. "But that's not our problem, except it means getting a good solid interim agreement is even more important. It's going to be in force for a while." Kelly turned and looked at Jamie. "I figure you ought to have a leg up on this one, Mendez."
    "How so, ma'am?"
    "Your personnel file. You listed 'extensive experience in the Los Angeles Pavlavian expatriate community.' "
    "Oh, well, yes." Jamie reddened. "That."
    "Well, have you had extensive experience with them?"
    "Well, yes, I have. But I don't know how much use it's going to be."
    "Why not?"
    How could he tell the commandant of the BSI Bullpen that he spent a summer working a Pavlat-owned store, in a neighborhood called Little Pavlavia, surrounded by Pavlats, and yet knew almost nothing about them? "Pavlats work very hard at not letting you learn about them, or get to know them."
    "Didn't you make any friends, establish any contacts?"
    Jamie shook his head apologetically. "Ma'am, it was a grunt job. I was the stock boy in a corner store. Pick up a box and put it over there. Mop the floor. Yes, I was there, in the community. Yes, I had extensive contacts, I guess. But hardly any of the customers