"She bragged to a friend who bragged to a friend who . . . And one of the other Calebans dropped a hint before disappearing."
"Any doubt the disappearances and the rest of it are tied together?"
"Let's go knock on this thing's door and find out," McKie said.
***
Language is a kind of code dependent upon the life rhythms of the species which originated the language. Unless you learn those rhythms, the code remains mostly unintelligible.
McKie's immediate ex-wife had adopted an early attitude of resentment toward BuSab. "They use you!" she had protested.
He had thought about that for a few minutes, wondering if it might be the reason he found it so easy to use others. She was right, of course.
McKie thought about her words now as he and Furuneo sped by groundcar toward the Cordiality coast. The question in McKie's mind was, How are they using me this time? Setting aside the possibility that he had been offered up as a sacrifice, there were still many possibilities in reserve. Was it his legal training they needed? Or had they been prompted by his unorthodox approach to interspecies relationships? Obviously they entertained some hope for a special sort of official sabotage - but what sort? Why had his instructions been so incomplete?
"You will seek out and contact the Caleban which has been hired by Madame Mliss Abnethe, or find any other Caleban available for sentient contact, and you will take appropriate action."
Appropriate action?
McKie shook his head.
"Why'd they choose you for this gig?" Furuneo asked.
"They know how to use me," McKie said.
The groundcar, driven by an enforcer, negotiated a sharp turn, and a vista of rocky shore opened before them. Something glittered in the distance among black lava palisades, and McKie noted two aircraft hovering above the rocks.