Free The Currents of Space by Isaac Asimov Page A

hesitate to stop at murder in such a case? The world of such genetic experimenters as you describe would not hesitate.”
    “And what would you have me do? I am still, I must say, not certain.” Abel seemed unmoved.
    “Find out if they have killed him,” said Junz grimly. “You must have an organization for espionage here. Oh, let’s not quibble. I have been knocking about the Galaxy long enough to have passed my political adolescence. Get to the bottom of this while I distract their attention with my library negotiations. And when you find them out for the murderers they are, I want Trantor to see to it that no government anywhere in the Galaxy ever again has the notion it can kill an I.S.B. man and get away with it.”
    And there his first interview with Abel had ended.
    Junz was right in one thing. The Sarkite officials were cooperative and even sympathetic as far as making library arrangements were concerned.
    But he seemed right in nothing else. Months passed, and Abel’s agents could find no trace of the missing field man anywhere on Sark, alive or dead.
    For over eleven months that held true. Almost, Junz began to feel ready to quit. Almost, he decided to wait for the twelfth month to be done and then no more. And then the break had come and it was not from Abel at all, but from the nearly forgotten straw man he had himself set up. A report came from Sark’s Public Library and Junz found himself sitting across the desk from a Florinian civil servant in the Bureau of Florinian Affairs.
     
    The Clerk completed his mental arrangement of the case. He had turned the last sheet.
    He looked up. “Now what can I do for you?”
    Junz spoke with precision. “Yesterday, at 4:22 P.M. , I was informed that the Florinian branch of the Public Library of Sark was holding a man for me who had attempted to consult two standard texts on Spatio-analysis and who was not a native Sarkite. I have not heard from the library since.”
    He continued, raising his voice to override some comment begun by the Clerk. He said, “A tele-news bulletin received over a public instrument owned by the hotel at which I maintain residence, and timed 5:05 P.M. yesterday, claimed that a member of the Florinian Patrol had been knocked unconscious in the Florinian branch of the Public Library of Sark and that three native Florinians believed responsible for the outrage were being pursued. That bulletin was not repeated in later news-broadcast summaries.
    “Now I have no doubt that the two pieces of information are connected. I have no doubt that the man I want is in the custody of the Patrol. I have asked for permission to travel to Florina and been refused. I have sub-ethered Florina to send the man in question to Sark and have received no answer. I come to the Bureau of Florinian Affairs to demand action in this respect. Either I go there or he comes here.”
    The Clerk’s lifeless voice said, “The government of Sark cannot accept ultimata from officers of the I.S.B. I have been warned by my superiors that you would probably be questioning me in these matters and I have been instructed as to the facts I am to make known to you. The man who was reported to be consulting the reserved texts, along with two companions, a Townman and a Florinian female, did indeed commit the assault you referred to, and they were pursued by the Patrol. They were not, however, apprehended.”
    A bitter disappointment swept over Junz. He did not bother to try to hide it. “They have escaped?”
    “Not exactly. They were traced to the bakery shop of one Matt Khorov.”
    Junz stared. “And allowed to remain there?”
    “Have you been in conference with His Excellency, Ludigan Abel, lately?”
    “What has that to do with——”
    “We are informed that you have been frequently seen at the Trantorian Embassy.”
    “I have not seen the Ambassador in a week.”
    “Then I suggest you see him. We allowed the criminals to remain unharmed at Khorov’s shop out of