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"
Yes
,
that
’
s
mine
,
"
Elliott
said
quietly
.
"
You
’
re
aware
that
someone
assassinated
Laurens
Bancroft
last
month
.
"
He
handed
me
back
the
paper
.
"
That
so
?
The
way
I
heard
it
,
the
bastard
torched
his
own
head
off
.
"
"
Well
,
that
is
a
possibility
,
"
I
conceded
,
screwing
up
the
paper
and
tossing
it
into
a
refuse
-
filled
skip
below
us
on
the
beach
.
"
But
it
’
s
not
one
I
’
m
being
paid
to
take
seriously
.
Unfortunately
for
you
,
the
cause
of
death
comes
uncomfortably
close
to
your
prose
style
there
.
"
"
I
didn
’
t
do
it
,
"
said
Elliott
flatly
.
"
I
figured
you
’
d
say
that
.
I
might
even
believe
you
,
except
that
whoever
did
kill
Bancroft
got
through
some
very
heavy
-
duty
security
systems
,
and
you
used
to
be
a
sergeant
in
the
tactical
marines
.
Now
,
I
knew
some
tacs
back
on
Harlan
’
s
World
,
and
a
few
of
them
were
wired
for
covert
wet
work
.
"
Elliott
looked
at
me
curiously
.
"
You
a
grasshopper
?
"
"
A
what
?
"
"
Grasshopper
.
Offworlder
.
"
