me, commodore," he said coldly. "I asked what I
asked because I desire information. The People's Government is trying
to solve the murder of Commodore Jack Latrobe. Assuming, of course,
that it was murder--which is open to doubt. His body was found three
days ago in Fort Tryon Park, up on the north end of Manhattan Island.
He had apparently jumped off one of the old stone bridges up there and
fell ninety feet to his death. On the other hand, it is possible that,
not being used to the effects of a field of point nine eight Standard
gees, he did not realize that the fall would be deadly, and
accidentally killed himself. He was alone in the park at night, as far
as we can tell. It has been ascertained definitely that no
representative of the People's Manufacturing Corporation Number 873
was with him at the time. Nor, so far as we can discover, was anyone
else. I asked you to call because I wanted to know if you had any
information for us. There was no other reason."

"I haven't seen Jack since he left Juno," Morgan said evenly. "I don't
know why he came to Earth, and I know nothing else."

"Then I see no further need for conversation," Tarnhorst said. "Thank
you for your assistance, Commodore Morgan. If Earth's Government needs
you again, you will be notified if you gain any further information,
you may call this number. Thank you again. Good-by."

The screen went blank.

* * * * *

_How much of this is a trap?_ Morgan thought.

There was no way of knowing at this point. Morgan knew that Jack
Latrobe had neither committed suicide nor died accidentally, and
Tarnhorst had told him as much. Tarnhorst was still friendly, but he
had taken the hint and got himself out of danger. There had been one
very important piece of information. The denial that any
representative of PMC 873 had been involved. PMC 873 was a
manufacturer of biological products--one of the several corporations
that Latrobe had been empowered to discuss business with when he had
been sent to Earth by the Belt Corporations Council. Tarnhorst would
not have mentioned them negatively unless he intended to imply a
positive hint. Obviously. Almost too obviously.

Well?

Harry Morgan punched for Information, got it, got a number, and
punched that.

"People's Manufacturing Corporation Ey-yut Seven Tha-ree," said a
recorded voice. "Your desire, pu-leeze?"

"This is Commodore Jack Latrobe," Morgan said gently. "I'm getting
t