Komarr

any ideas?'

Soudha shook his head. 'I confess, this turn in their relationship took me by surprise. But I don't pry into my employees' private lives.'

'So you've said. But you worked closely with the man for five years. What were his outside interests, his politics, his hobbies, his obsessions?'

'I …' Soudha shrugged in frustration. 'I can give you his complete work record. Radovas was a quiet sort of fellow, never made trouble, did first-rate technical work—'

'Yes, why did you hire him? Waste Heat Management does not appear to have been his previous specialty.'

'Oh, he had a great deal of station expertise—as you may know, getting rid of excess heat topside is a standard engineering challenge. I thought his technical experience might bring some new perspectives to our problems, and I was right. I was very pleased with his work—Section Two of the reports I gave you yesterday was mostly his, if you would like to examine them to get a real sense of the man. Power generation and distribution. Hydraulics, in Section Three, was mostly mine. The basis of heat exchange through liquid transfer is most promising—'

'I've looked over your report, thanks.'

Soudha looked startled. 'All of it? I had really understood Dr. Vorthys would be wanting it. I'm afraid it's a bit thick on the technical detail.'

Oh, sure, I speed-read all two hundred thousand words before bed last night. Miles smiled blandly. 'I accept your evaluation of Dr. Radovas's technical competence. But if he was so good, why did he leave? Was he bored, happy, frustrated? Why did this change in his personal circumstances lead to change in his work? I don't see a necessary connection.'

'For that,' said Soudha, 'I'm afraid you will have to ask Marie Trogir. I strongly suspect the driving force in this peculiar decision came from her, though they both resigned and left together. She had far less to lose, leaving here, in pay and seniority and status.'

'Tell me more about her.'

'Well, I truly can't. Barto hired her himself and worked with her on a daily basis. She barely came to my attention. Her technical ability appears to have been adequate—although, come to think of it, those evaluations were all supplied by Barto. I don't know.' Soudha rubbed his forehead. 'This is all pretty upsetting. Barto, dead. Why?' The distress in his voice seemed genuine to Miles's experienced ear, but his shock appeared more surprise than the deep grief from loss of a close friend; Miles would, perhaps, have to look elsewhere for the insights into Radovas he now sought.

'I'd like to examine Dr. Radovas's office and work areas.'

'Oh. I'm afraid his office was cleared and reassigned.'

'Have you replaced him?'

'Not yet. I'm still collecting applications. I hope to start interviewing soon.'

'Radovas must have been friends with somebody. I want to speak with his coworkers.'

'Of course, my Lord Auditor. When would you like me to set up appointments?'

'I thought I'd just drop in.'

Soudha pursed his lips. 'Several of my people are on vacation, and several more are out at the experiment station, running a small test this morning. I don't expect them to be done before dark. But I can get you started with the people here, and have some more in by the time you're done with the first.'

'All right. …'

With the air of a man throwing a sacrifice to the volcano god, Soudha called in two subordinates, whom Miles interviewed one at a time in the same conference chamber they'd used day before yesterday for the VIP briefing. Arozzi was a younger man, scarcely older than Miles, an engineer who was temporarily scrambling to take over Radovas's abandoned duties, and perhaps, he hinted, hoping for promotion into the dead man's shoes. Would my Lord Auditor like to see some of his work? No, he had not been close friends with his senior. No, the office romance had been a surprise to him, but then Radovas had been a private sort of fellow, very discreet. Trogir had been a bright woman, bright and beautiful; Arozzi had no trouble appreciating what Radovas had seen in her. What had she seen in Radovas? He had no idea, but then, he wasn't a woman. Radovas dead? Dear God . . . No, he had no idea what the man had been doing topside. Maybe the couple had been trying to emigrate?

Cappell, the department's resident mathematician, was hardly more useful. He was a bit older than Arozzi, and a trifle more cynical. He took in the news of Radovas's death with less change of expression than either Arozzi or Soudha. He hadn't been close to Radovas or Trogir either, not on a social basis, though he worked often with the engineer, yes, checking calculations, devising projections. He'd be glad to show my Lord Auditor a few thousand more pages of his work. No?

What was Trogir like? Well-enough looking, he supposed, but rather sly. Look what she'd done to poor Radovas, eh? Did he think Trogir might be dead as well? No, women were like cats, they landed on their feet. No, he'd never actually experimented with testing that old saying on live cats; he didn't have any pets himself. Nor a wife. No, he didn't want a kitten, thank you for the offer, my Lord Auditor. . . .

Miles met again with Tuomonen at lunchtime over mediocre cafeteria food in the executive dining room off the building's atrium; the displaced executives were forced to go elsewhere. They exchanged reports on their morning's conversations. Tuomonen hadn't found any breakthroughs either.

'No one expressed a dislike of Trogir, but she seems damned elusive,' Tuomonen noted. 'The Waste Heat department has a reputation for keeping itself to itself, apparently. The one woman in Waste Heat who was supposed to be her friend didn't have much to say. I wonder if I ought to get a female interrogator?'

'Mm, maybe. Though I thought Komarrans were supposed to be more egalitarian about such things. Maybe a Komarran female interrogator?' Miles sighed. 'D'you know that according to the latest statistics, half of the Barrayaran women who take advanced schooling on Komarr don't go home again? There's a small group of alarmist bachelors who are trying to get the Emperor to deny them exit visas. Gregor has declined to hear their petition.'

Tuomonen smiled slightly. 'Well, there's more than one solution to that problem.'

'Yes, how have your Komarran in-laws taken the announcement of the Emperor's betrothal to the Toscane heiress?'

'Some of them think it's romantic. Some of them think it's sharp business practice on Emperor Gregor's part. Coming from Komarrans, that's a warm compliment, by the way.'

'Technically, Gregor owns the planet Sergyar. You might point that out to anyone who theorizes he's marrying Laisa for her money.'

Tuomonen grinned. 'Yes, but is Sergyar a liquid asset?'

'Only in the sense of Imperial funds gurgling down the drain, according to my father. But that's an entire other set of problems. And what do the Barrayaran expatriates around here think of the marriage?'

'In general, it's favored.' Tuomonen smiled dryly into his coffee cup. 'Five years ago, my colleagues thought I was cutting my career throat by my own marriage. I'd never get promoted out of Serifosa, they said. Now I am suspected of secret genius, and they've taken to regarding me with wary respect. I think . . . it's best if I be amused.'

'Hen. You are a wise man, Captain.' Miles finished off a starchy and gelid square of pasta-and-something, and chased it with the last of his cooling coffee. 'So what did Trogir's friends think of Radovas?'

'Well, he's certainly managed to give a consistent impression of himself. Nice, conscientious guy, didn't make waves, kept to Waste Heat, his elopement a surprise to most. One woman thought it was your math fellow Cappell who was sweet on Trogir, not Radovas.'

'He sounded more sour than sweet to me. Frustrated, perhaps?' Miles's back-brain sketched a nice, straightforward scenario of jealous murder, involving pushing Radovas out an airlock on a trajectory that only just by coincidence matched that of some soletta debris. You can wish. And anyway, it seemed more logical that any homicidal maniac wishing to clear a path to Trogir's side ought to have started with Andro Farr, and what the hell did any of this tragic romance have to do with an ore freighter swinging off course and smashing into the soletta array anyway? Unless the jealous maniac was Andro Farr … the Serifosa Dome police were supposed to be looking into that possibility.