“Psychological warfare?” Devray asked.

Kresh shrugged. “Maybe they just want to get the public so rattled that the commotion interferes with the investigation.”

“Bear in mind that we don’t have and won’t get any audio or video record from the destroyed robots. Maybe the plotters just wanted to cover their tracks. Whatever the reason, I think that we were supposed to find fifty dead robots. “

“There’s something else that went wrong,” Kresh said. “Me finding Grieg so soon after he was killed. In the normal course of events, it might have been eight or ten hours before anyone discovered the body, as opposed to ninety minutes.”

“And your discovery came as a direct result of Huthwitz being killed,” Devray said. “If he had not died, you would not have been out here, or gotten suspicious, or called the Governor twice to make sure he was all right. ”

“All true,” Kresh said. “And more reason to think Bissal is a bit of a loose cannon. All he had to do was not kill Huthwitz-if he was the one who killed Huthwitz. Maybe the two deaths aren’t related at all-though I don’t believe that. I think killing Huthwitz was not part of the plan, but that Bissal did it anyway, for whatever reason. You’d think that people who have set up this elaborate a plan could have come up with a more reliable person to carry it out.”

“I think I know why they got someone like Bissal,” Devray said. “But-”

Suddenly Donald stood bolt upright. “Excuse me, sir, but I am receiving a priority communication from one Olver Telmhock.”

“Who?” Kresh asked. “Olver Telmhock. I have no further information, and the hyperwave signal carries a Crash Priority rating. The coding prefix indicates his message must be related in person for security reasons. His aircar is arriving at the Residence now. You are urged to hear him immediately.”

Kresh sighed. “ Another one crawls out of the woodwork. All right, if I have to go, I have to go.”

Fredda watched as Kresh stood up to go. “You don’t seem too excited by a Crash Priority. ”

“I’ve gotten about a half dozen of them so far today over hyperwave. The most useful one was the mayor of Dustbowl City extending his condolences, and the next best was a deputy back in Hades reporting that Grieg has been sighted alive walking down the street, dressed in women’s clothing. ”

Fredda smiled wanly. “If only they were right. Wouldn’t you love to wake up and find out this was a bad dream? That our biggest problem was a Governor with odd tastes in clothes?”

Kresh nodded. “That would be nice,” he said. “I’m tired of nightmares that come while I’m awake. Come on, Donald. Let’s get the latest fashion report. ”

KRESH STEPPED INTO the interrogation room. Donald came in behind him, closed the door, and then took up a position next to and slightly behind Kresh, rather than retreating to a wall niche. Donald only stayed that close when he had some intimation that Kresh might be in some sort of danger. Kresh couldn’t see any particular peril in the current situation, but Kresh had learned some time ago to trust Donald’s reactions, even above his own. There was something here that Donald did not like; something he thought might be of some sort of possible danger.

If so, then Donald was seeing things Kresh could not. All Kresh could see was a thin, reedy sort of man, Telmhock presumably, accompanied by a rather battered-looking robot.

Telmhock was sitting at the table, facing the door, some papers spread out before him. He did not seem to be the sort of person who could endanger much of anyone.

He was of indeterminate middle age, and his face was long and narrow, with a beaklike nose that might have given him a quite authoritative air, were it not for the distracted, almost dreamy, look in his blue-grey eyes. His clothes were at least twenty years out of fashion, and there was something a bit musty about them. His hair was a little on the longish side, though, if Kresh were any judge, not by choice. He had made no conscious decision on his hairstyle; rather he had merely forgotten to have it cut. There were even traces of dandruff on the shoulders of his jacket-a truly scandalous failing in Inferno’s overly fastidious society.

His robot, which was of near-antique vintage, stood behind him. The robot was a dark grey in color, though it looked as if it had once been a gleaming jet-black. It was holding the handle of a briefcase no less battered than itself, and something about its rather assertive posture suggested that it was not likely to treat its master with the sort of craven slavishness of most Inferno robots.

In short, the man looked like what he clearly was: an old-fashioned civil servant who took his work very seriously indeed, with his personal robot of many years service in attendance.

“Sheriff Kresh?” the man asked.

“Yes. ” Who the devil else did he think it might be?

“Hmm. Ha. Good. I am Professor Giver Telmhock. I am the dean of the law department of Hades University.”

A very grand-sounding title, but it didn’t impress Kresh much. The university was not large, and the law department was small, even in proportion. There was not much call for lawyers on Inferno, praise be.

Telmhock seemed to see that Kresh was underimpressed, and therefore added a few other titles to the mix. “I am, ah, also an adviser to the Attorney General, and to the late Governor on any number of legal matters. ”

“I see,” Kresh said, though he did not. Nor was he impressed by the man’s resume. Not on Inferno. The population was small, and the duties of government and academic service light, with the result that there was a certain comic-opera flavor to the upper crust of society, with everyone seeming to claim a half-dozen offices, with all sorts of fancy titles that came complete with uniforms and badges and medallions that could be worn to parties. The staff robots did all the work while the office holders went to receptions.

Kresh had been getting all sorts of calls from any number of just such nonofficials, offering help they could not provide and giving advice that would have been suicidal if taken. Telmhock was just about the lowest-ranking official to contact him-and the only one to come in person.

Why the devil should he give half a damn about an “adviser” to the Attorney General when the A. G. hadn’t set foot in her own office in the last year? Alvar Kresh stood over the prim little man, not trying very hard to conceal his annoyance and impatience. “Now then, Professor Telmhock, as you will appreciate, this is a rather busy time for me. ”

“Yes, I rather imagine it is,” Telmhock replied, plainly not in any hurry at all to get to the point. “This is a shocking development. Absolutely shocking. ” He sat there, shaking his head mournfully.

It seemed to Kresh as if the old boy was not prepared to say anything more without prompting. “I quite agree,” he said. “However, Professor, I am quite pressed for time. You called me away from a rather urgent case review. I appreciate the condolence call, but I really must-”

“Condolence call?” Telmhock asked. “I am not making a mere condolence call. Did I leave that impression? I certainly did not intend to do so. I would not wish to interrupt you needlessly.”

Again, the man didn’t seem prepared to volunteer any actual information. Kresh forced himself to be calm. “ All right, then,” he said, “perhaps you could tell me why you did feel the need to interrupt me. ” Not the most tactful of phrasings, but there were times when rudeness got things moving.

“Oh, but of course,” Telmhock said. “I think you will agree that it is a matter of some importance. I thought it might be wise if I talked to you about the succession to the late Governor’s office.”

“I thought Shelabas Quellam was the Designate.”