Komarr

The repair tech arrived at last, along with another duty guard. Miles took them aside for a word.

'I want you both to stay here till I get back, understand? Madame Vorsoisson is not to be left unguarded. Um . . . when you're done with the door, find out from her if there are any other repairs she needs done around here, and take care of them for her.'

'Yes, my lord.'

Trailed by his own guard, Miles took himself off to the Terraforming Project offices. He passed ImpSec guards on the bubble-car platform, in the building lobby, and at the corridor entrances to Terraforming's floors. Miles was put glumly in mind of an Old Vor aphorism about posting a guard on the picket line after the horses were stolen. Once within, the ImpSec personnel shifted from steely-eyed goons to intent techs and clerks, efficiently downloading comconsoles and examining files. Terraforming Project employees watched them in suppressed terror.

Miles found Colonel Gibbs set up in Vorsoisson's outer office, with his own imported comconsole planted firmly therein; rather to his surprise, the rabbity Venier was dancing worried attendance upon the ImpSec financial analyst. Venier shot Miles a look of dislike as he strode in.

'Good morning, Vennie; I didn't expect to see you, somehow,' Miles greeted him cordially. He was oddly glad the fellow hadn't been one of Soudha's. 'Hello, Colonel. I'm Vorkosigan. Sorry for dragging you out on such short notice.'

'My Lord Auditor. I am at your disposal.' Gibbs stood, formally, and took Miles's proffered hand for a dry handshake. Gibbs was a delight to Miles's eye; a spare, middle-aged man with graying hair and a meticulous manner who despite his Imperial undress greens looked every bit an accountant. Even having held his new rank for almost three whole months, it still felt odd to Miles to accept the older man's deference.

'I trust Captain Tuomonen has briefed you, and passed on the interesting data packet we acquired last night.'

Gibbs, drawing up a chair for the Lord Auditor, nodded. Venier took the opportunity to excuse himself, and fled without further prompting at Gibbs' wave of permission. They seated themselves, and Miles went on, 'How are you doing so far?' He glanced at the stacks of flimsies the comconsole desk had already acquired.

Gibbs gave him a faint smile. 'For the first three hours' work, I am reasonably pleased. We have managed to sort out most of Waste Heat Management's fictitious employees. I expect tracking their false accounts to go quickly. Your Madame Foscol's report on the late Administrator Vorsoisson's receipts is very clear. Verifying its truth should not present a serious problem.'

'Be very cautious about any data which may have passed through her hands,' Miles warned.

'Oh, yes. She's quite good. I suspect I am going to find it a pleasure and a privilege to work with her, if you take my meaning, my lord.' Gibb's eyes glinted.

So nice to meet a man who loves his job. Well, he'd asked Solstice HQ to send him their best. 'Don't speak too soon about Foscol. I have what promises to be a tedious request for you.'

'Ah?'

'In addition to fictitious employees, I have reason to believe Waste Heat made a lot of fictitious equipment purchases. Phony invoices and the like.'

'Yes. I've turned up three dummy companies they appear to have used for them.'

'Already? That was quick. How?'

'I ran a data match of all invoices paid by the Terraforming Project with a list of all real companies in the tax registry of the Empire. Not, you understand, routine for in-house audits, though I believe I'll forward a suggestion that it should be added to the list of procedures in future. There were three companies left over. My field people are checking them out. I should have confirmation for you by the end of today. It is, I believe, not excessively optimistic to hope we may track every missing mark in a week.'

'My most urgent concern is not actually the money.' Gibb's brows rose at this; Miles forged on. 'Soudha and his co-conspirators also left with a large amount of equipment. It has crossed my mind that if we had a reliable list of Waste Heat's equipment and supply purchases, and subtracted from it the current physical inventory of what's out there at their experiment station, the remainder ought to include everything they took with them.'

'So it should.' Gibbs eyed him with approval.

'It's a brute-force approach,' Miles said apologetically. 'And not, alas, quite as simple as a data match.'

'That,' murmured Gibbs, 'is why enlisted men were invented.'

They smiled at each other in pleased understanding. Miles continued, 'This will only work if the supply list is truly accurate. I want you to hunt particularly for phony invoices covering real, but nonstandard, nonaccounted equipment purchases. I want to know if Soudha smuggled in anything . . . odd.'

Gibbs's head tilted in interest; his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'Easy enough for them to have used their dummy companies also to launder those.'

'If you find anything like that, red-flag it and notify myself or Lord Auditor Vorthys at once. And especially if you turn up any matches with the equipment Vorthys's probable-cause crew are presently finding at the site of the soletta accident.'

'Ah! The connection begins to come clear. I must say, I had been wondering why this intense Imperial interest in a mere embezzlement scheme. Though it's a very nice embezzlement scheme,' he hastened to assure Miles. 'Professional.'

'Quite. Consider that equipment list your top priority, please, Colonel.'

'Very good, my lord.'

Leaving Gibbs frowning—rather interestedly, Miles thought– at a fountain of data displays on his comconsole, Miles went to find Tuomonen.

The tired-looking ImpSec captain reported no surprises uncovered so far this morning. The field agents had not yet picked up Soudha's trail. HQ had sent in a major with an interrogation unit, who had taken over the systematic examination of the department's remaining employees; the inquisition was now going on in the conference chamber. 'But it's going to take days to work through them all,' Tuomonen added.

'Do you still want to do Madame Vorsoisson this afternoon?'

Tuomonen rubbed his face. 'Yes, in all.'

'I'll be sitting in.'

Tuomonen hesitated. 'That is your privilege, my lord.'

Miles considered going to watch the employee interrogations, but decided that in his current physical state he would not contribute anything coherent. Everything seemed to be under control, for the moment, except for himself. The morning's painkillers were beginning to wear off, and the corridor was getting wavery around the edges. If he was going to be useful to anyone later in the day, he'd better give his battered body a rest. 'I'll see you back at Madame Vorsoisson's, then,' he told Tuomonen.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ekaterin seated herself at the comconsole in her workroom and began to triage the shambles of her life. It was actually simpler than her first fears had supposed—there was so little of it, after all.How did I grow so small?

She made a list of her resources. At the top, and most vital: medical care for the dependents of a deceased project employee was guaranteed till the end of the quarter, a few weeks away yet. A time window, of sorts. She counted the days in her head. It would be time enough for Nikki, if she didn't waste any.

A few hundred marks remained in her household account, and a few hundred marks in Tien's. Her use of this apartment also ran till the end of the quarter, when she must vacate it to make way for the next administrator to be appointed to Tien's position. That was fine; she didn't want to stay here longer. No pension, of course. She grimaced. Guaranteed passage back to Barrayar, unavailable while Tien was alive, was due her and Nikki as another death benefit, and thank heavens Tien hadn't figured out how to cash that in.