The Cause of Death (35 page)

"But who or what was he shooting at?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Hannah said. "But unless I'm judging things wrong, and Pavlat are stronger than I think, and their arms and wrists and fingers bend in ways I don't know about, he died trying to shoot at someone else."

"No," said Darsteel. "Looking at it all more carefully, I believe you have it right. But--"

"But what?"

"Well, with the weapon in his hand and all that--are we meant to
think
it was a suicide? The things you point out show that it was not. But perhaps this is a botched attempt to
fake
a suicide?"

"It could be," Jamie said doubtfully. He studied the pistol that Lantrall held in his hand for a moment. It had an oddly long gun barrel for a hand gun, more than thirty centimeters. The gun barrel started flaring out from about the halfway point, widening out toward the muzzle, so that the gun barrel resembled an elongated funnel. There was also what looked like the guard of a sword just forward of the breech end of the barrel. "What can you tell me about that weapon? It looks more elaborate and decorative than just a regular target pistol or something. And the firing mechanism is strange."

"It is one of a pair," said Darsteel. "Dueling pistols. Rocket-gun single-shot dueling pistols."

"Rocket-gun dueling pistols?" Jamie asked in surprise.

"It's a fairly common way to make such guns," said Darsteel. "It fires a small projectile powered by a miniature solid rocket motor."

"It seems like a strange way to build a practical weapon," Jamie objected. At least it explained the flared funnel-shaped barrel, and the guard around the barrel's breech ends. They were both there to protect the shooter from the rocket's exhaust jet.

"They aren't
meant
to be practical," said Brox. "Rocket guns have to be fairly big. They have a distinct shape. They are meant for a particular upper-class ritual, the duel. They make a lot of noise and smoke. They're used to settle affairs of honor at a moment's notice. They're meant to be grand and dramatic." He shook his head. "A lot of nonsense, if you ask me."

"That might be," Jamie said with a faint smile. "But I take your point. He turned back to Darsteel and pointed at the gun in the Thelm's hand. "Any idea where that came from?"

"As I said, it was one of a pair. I was part of the team that inventoried the valuables in this room a few years ago. As I remember, they were displayed in a case over there on that show table."

Jamie glanced over at the table. Several large chunks of collapsed ceiling and other debris had landed on top of it, collapsing its legs and burying whatever was on top of it. He wouldn't be getting a look at whatever was left of the case and its contents for a while yet. Not until they started cleaning the place up. "Would loaded weapons have been left on display in the Thelm's office?" Jamie asked. "Prepped, loaded, ready to fire?"

Darsteel hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes," he conceded. "Loaded weapons. As Inquirist Brox noted, with some sarcasm, one must be ready to settle affairs of honor at a moment's notice. There are various safety mechanisms, of course. But they are easy to switch off."

"I'd like to see a duplicate of the weapon, or as close to it as you can come," said Jamie. "Plus a sample of the ammunition it fired, and maybe some kind of quick briefing on how the weapon works."

"Certainly," said Darsteel.

"And if I am reading this right, we'll need to confirm that what we're seeing in the wound are fragments of the endcap. And we'll have to examine the projectile as well, of course. Forgive me if I offend, but I do not know your laws. Will there be a postmortem examination of the Thelm? Some cultures would prohibit it."

"I am certain that there will be such an examination," said Darsteel. "And I will see to it that it is done properly, with no attempts to shade or 'correct' the evidence. Shall I see to it that you get the report as soon as it is complete?"

"That's what I was about to ask for," Jamie said.

"Wait a moment," said Hannah. "I want to get this straight. The gun--
two
guns, probably--were in the room, loaded and accessible?"

"Yes."

"So anyone who got into this room could have picked up one of those pistols and taken a potshot at the Thelm at any time?"

"We've just got through proving he must have fired the gun himself, presumably unaware that it would blow up, or fire backwards, or whatever it did," Brox protested.

"Hannah's not saying that someone else
did
shoot at him," said Jamie. "She's just asking if it would have been possible." He turned to Darsteel. "So--were there two guns there?"

"Yes," Darsteel admitted reluctantly. "Obviously that was most unwise," he went on stiffly, making a remarkable understatement, "but that was how it was."

"Maybe that
was
how it was," Hannah suggested. "Maybe he
didn't
shoot himself. Maybe someone who knew the gun would malfunction held the gun backwards, shot him with it that way, and then put the gun in his hand."

"That sounds about as probable as my theory that he shot himself, then started the fires," Brox said acidly.

"It would be impossible," Darsteel said flatly. "His hand is in the clasp reflex position. It's a common Pavlat reaction to shock and surprise. The hand can't possibly be forced into that position after death."

"Clasp reflex?" Jamie asked. "What's that?"

"The Pavlat hand," said Brox. "It is formed in ways useful to the arboreal ways of the species from which the Pavlat evolved. When closed around something--a tree limb, a gun butt, whatever--it has a relaxed-lock reflex, so that it holds on effortlessly, and it requires a deliberate effort to make it let go. Many arboreal species on Kendari have it, and on Earth too, I expect. It allows a creature to lock its claws closed when holding on to a branch, and, for example, to sleep without danger of falling. And, of course, danger stimulates the reflex so that surprise or shock would cause one to hold on all the harder."

"Yes," Hannah said. "Lots of birds on Earth do something like that when they roost for the night." She leaned over the dead hand and the weapon it held, shining a bright handlight on them, studying them as closely as she could. "So what you're telling me is that he has that gun in a death grip. He had to be alive for the reflex to kick in--and no one could possibly open his hand after death."

"That is correct," Darsteel said.

"Well, I'm no expert on what postmortem injuries look like on a Pavlat--but it sure looks to me as if someone
tried
to open his hand. You can see the scorch marks from the rocket projectile's exhaust on his wrist--more proof he fired it himself--but there's something else. Scratches and discolorations. They're faint, but they are there."

"What?" Darsteel cried out, the shock plain in his voice. He leaned in next to Hannah and studied the hand of his Thelm. "You're right," he said. "But why? For what purpose?"

Hannah made no reply. Jamie had his own ideas, but kept his mouth shut.

Brox had been quietly continuing his search of the room, moving his body gracefully through the tight spaces of the chamber. "I have found something of interest," he announced in a voice of studied neutrality. "It is a tight fit back here," he said. "Let me back out. I would suggest that you come in one by one. And I need not repeat the vitally important point that nothing be touched."

A large decorative plant had been toppled over, just in front of a service door opening onto a corridor that allowed the servants and serving robots to come and go without using the main hallways and stairs. It would be just barely possible to use the door with the plant blocking it, but the plant had fallen in such a way as to create a tight spot between it and the wall with the door. Darsteel went to look first, let out a muttered oath, and backed out quickly--and for some reason he was instantly interested in Hannah's feet, and Jamie's as well. Hannah went next, and came out looking at the two nonhumans with wry amusement. "Agent Mendez and I are in the clear on this one," he said. "Definitely not my style. And not Agent Mendez's size."

Jamie went in after her, and instantly understood. It was a shoe print--but a print made by a human-style shoe, and a largish one at that, far larger than Jamie's size. No nonhuman could have been expected to be able to read the print beyond spotting it as human-style. But Jamie could, and did. It was unquestionably a human shoe, a man's shoe, for the right foot.

And, to the best of his knowledge, aside from himself, there was exactly one male human being on the planet.

All of a sudden, it would seem that Georg Hertzmann had some explaining to do.

TWENTY-ONE
LOCK-DOWN

They took detailed pictures of the Thelm's body, of the weapon, of the scratches on the Thelm's hand, of the shoe print, and of the impact damage caused by projectile fragments, along with a whole series of general views of the room. They hunted and they studied, but if the Thelm's audience chamber held any more surprises, none of their party spotted them.

All of them were exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. Dawn was not far off, but the endless night wasn't over for them. Not yet. There was some talking to do, some decisions to make. The four of them stripped off their iso-suits, and, at Darsteel's suggestion, they went to the BSI agents' apartments to talk around the big round table in the common room.

Brox started things off. "This is a disaster," he said flatly as he sat down on his haunches on the floor and folded his arms on the table. "I tell you plainly that I have not the slightest idea who will succeed Thelm Lantrall under these circumstances--the High Thelek, or Georg Hertzmann, or perhaps even some distant alternate heir. The laws of succession are extremely complex. But if this case is left unsolved, in the grand old Reqwar Pavlat tradition, whoever
does
succeed will not have sufficient support from enough quarters to be able to rule this planet. The present hostilities and suspicions will seem like an era of peace and mutual trust."

Hannah had barely heard the last part of what Brox had said. Georg Hertzmann, Thelm of all Reqwar? She had been viewing that as an interesting oddball theoretical possibility that might be politically useful as part of some plot or conspiracy. Could it really happen? Was it about to happen? But this wasn't the time to bring up that sort of question. "All right," she said. "Then we, those of us here, have to solve this murder, and do it fast."

"We have to do more than that," said Jamie. "There has been a political murder. We can't assume there won't be more killings. We can't exclude the possibility of a conspiracy, a coup. And the conspirators might still be at work--and watching. I would advise that we work on the assumption that we are being observed. Any number of groups or individuals might want to keep an eye on us."

"A sensible assumption," said Brox. "But let us not be paralyzed by our own precautions. I would suggest that we start discussions--and I would suggest that our first task should be to assemble a list of likely suspects. I would be interested in hearing the thoughts of my colleagues on that point."

In other words, you want to see our cards before you show your own
, Hanna thought.

"With what we've just discussed in mind," Jamie went on, "I won't mention names out loud. I'll write them." He took out a pen and a piece of paper and jotted down a list of suspects.

Hannah caught Brox's quizzical, amused expression as he watched Jamie work. No doubt he thought writing on paper was hopelessly old-fashioned. Let him think what he wanted. It beat all the "modern" techniques when it came to easy and reliable security. No power sources to monitor or code impulses to intercept, no forgotten backup copies that didn't get erased.

Jamie finished writing, then shoved the paper across the table to Darsteel.

"I would strongly suggest that everyone on that list be placed in protective custody at once," Jamie said. "As a safety precaution, in case one of them turns out to be a suspect instead of a potential victim, I would also advise that they not be allowed to talk with each other. Don't let them return to their homes before picking them up--just in case their homes contain concealed dangers, the way the Thelm's chamber did. In fact, I would suggest that each of their homes be checked very carefully for traps while the owners are in protective custody."

Darsteel looked at the list, then slid it across the table to Brox. "A sensible idea," Darsteel said blandly. "But what if an overzealous police commander misinterpreted this suggestion and ordered the persons listed here to be kept away from each other in order to prevent conspiracies from forming, or to prevent those on it from talking together and getting their stories straight? And an overzealous police commander might even let that check for traps and weapons degenerate into a full-blown search for evidence."

"Well, if that happened, it certainly would be unexpected," said Jamie.

"Be prepared to be surprised," Darsteel said drily.

"Let me see that list," Hannah said. She read it over and looked up at Jamie. "You're casting your net pretty wide, aren't you? There are a few names I wouldn't have included."