most tragic news...."

* * * * *

A woman captain met him just inside the door of the big soundproofed
room of the telecast station, next to the Administration Building.

"We have a wavelength open to Konkrook, general," she said. "In booth
three."

Another girl, a tech-sergeant, was in the booth; on the screen was the
image of a third young woman, a lieutenant, at Konkrook station. The
sergeant rose and started to leave the booth.

"Stick around, sergeant," von Schlichten told her. "I'll want you to
take over when I'm through." He sat down in front of the combination
visiscreen and pickup. "Now, lieutenant; just what happened?" he
asked. "How did he die?"

"We think it was poison, general. General M'zangwe has ordered autopsy
and chemical analysis. If you can wait about ten minutes, he'll be
able to talk to you, himself."

"Call him. In the meantime, give me everything you know."

"Well, at about 2210, the Kragan guard-sergeant on that floor heard
ten pistol-shots, as fast as they could be fired semi-auto, in the
governor's room. The door was locked, but he shot it off with his own
pistol and went in. He found Governor Harrington on the floor, wearing
only his gown, holding an empty pistol. He was in convulsions,
frothing at the mouth, in horrible pain. Evidently he'd fired his
pistol, which he kept on his desk, to call help; all the bullets had
gone into the ceiling. One of the medics got there in five minutes,
just as he was dying. He'd written his diary up to noon of today, and
broken off in the middle of a word. There was a bottle and an
overturned glass on his desk. The Constabulary got there a few minutes
later, and then Brigadier-General M'zangwe took charge. A white rat,
given fifteen drops from the whiskey-bottle, died with the same
symptoms in about ninety seconds."

"Who had access to the whiskey-bottle?"

"A geek servant, who takes care of the room. He was caught, an hour
earlier, trying to slip off the island without a pass; they were
holding him at the guardhouse when Governor Harrington died. He's now
being questioned by the Kragans." The girl's face was bleakly
remorseless. "I hope they do plenty to him!"

"I hope they don't kill him before he talks."

* * * * *

"Wait a moment, general; we have General M'zangwe, now," the girl
said. "I'll switch you over."

The screen broke into a kaleidoscopic jumble of color, then cleare