The Echelon Vendetta Read Online Free PDF

but I believe something stopped his heart.”
    “Like what?”
    Brancati shrugged. “For a man to tear at himself this way, and for his heart to stop . . . It seems possible that he was in a state of great fear. Perhaps a hallucination. That is the only answer I can think of. Some kind of drug. A powerful psychotropic drug. In rare cases, this is the kind of thing you see when things go very bad. A terrible hallucination could make a man tear at himself, and some people have been known to die from fear. Not often. But it is known.”
    “I’ve told you. Porter Naumann didn’t take drugs. Nor was he insane.”
    “As far as you know. There may be much about Mr. Naumann that you do not know. For instance, whether or not he had been a soldier.”
    “You’re saying this was a suicide? Is that it?”
    “Technically, no. I do not believe it was suicide. Under our laws, for it to be self-murder, the man must have been in his right mind. Clearly Mr. Naumann was not. When one dies as a result of a drug overdose—”
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    “He didn’t—”
    “—do drugs. As you keep reminding me. But if, and I say only if, drugs played a part here, or even a passing madness, then there is no intent. No culpability. It is a death by misadventure. By accident. You understand? Was Mr. Naumann a Christian man?”
    “Christian? Yes, he was. At least, he was an Episcopalian. That may not be the same thing as being a Christian.”
    “And what is this ‘Episcopalian’ faith?”
    “Like an Anglican. High Anglican. Church of England.”
    Brancati smiled, savoring the new word. “An Episcopalian. Still, a Christian. So here is the important point. If we can say he was not a suicide, then it is still possible for Mr. Naumann to be buried in consecrated ground. To go to his Episcopalian heaven. Otherwise...”
    Brancati made a vee of his joined hands and pointed to the ground.
    To hell.
    “Is that where this case is going?”
    Brancati made a broad gesture, taking in the ruined corpse, the wooden gates with the bloody palm smears, the wind-rippled tent walls.
    “What brings a sane man to this terrible end? There is no sign of any other party involved—”
    “What about the second voice? The droning voice like a bear? The girls in the hostel heard two voices. Someone was with him.”
    Brancati shook his head slowly, his expression sympathetic. “The clerk at the Strega is certain no one came in. And I have told you already that he is a reliable man, and known to us. The hostel has many pretty young college girls, tourists, travelers. The management intends that nothing bad shall happen to these silly children while they are staying at the Strega. You have to buzz at the barred gate to get in. Also there is a camera, which we are told showed nothing unusual. The testimony of the clerk is clear. Other than a nursing sister
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    who went to see one of the girls, nobody went in or out. Mr. Nau
    mann had no visitors. He was alone in his room.”
    “This clerk, he never left his post? Not once?”
    “There is a small privy off the reception area. He of course made use of this from time to time. He admits this. But he insists that he saw no stranger arrive, no one he did not recognize. He is a reliable man.”
    “Someone who was already inside the hostel, then.”
    “We’ve discussed that. In these matters, I am sorry to say, it is often true that the most simple explanation is also the correct one. I believe Mr. Naumann died in the middle of some kind of psychotic episode. Perhaps triggered by a powerful drug. How else could a man come to this?”
    Dalton could think of no other answer. A sudden blast of wind rattled the tent walls and rain pattered against the roof. Brancati pulled his collar up around his neck.
    “Enough, Mr. Dalton. We will interrogate the hostel clerk, as you suggest. We will interview the residents again. We will be vigorous. Allegro vigoroso. On Mr. Naumann, blood tests will be done.