THE rest of Findi was quiet, and Dekkard finally had enough time to write a letter back to Naralta. Later, Dekkard and Avraal enjoyed practicing with knives and teaching Emrelda, after which they cleaned up and had an early dinner at Octavia’s.
As far as Dekkard was concerned Unadi came far, far too early, but he did manage to get himself washed and dressed before waking Avraal. He then went downstairs to the kitchen and saw Emrelda off, before setting out breakfast for himself and Avraal.
While he waited for her, he quickly read the morning edition of Gestirn, but the only story of immediate interest was one speculating on the fact that Obreduur hadn’t proposed ministerial appointments for Public Resources, Security, or Treasury and what that might foreshadow. At that moment, he heard Avraal’s footsteps, so he poured her café and set it at her place.
“Good morning, lovely lady,” he said as she stepped into the breakfast room in her robe. He gestured to her café.
“Lovely? In this?”
“You look lovely in anything.” As well as in nothing.
“I know what you’re thinking, lecherous husband.”
“It’s not lecherous because it’s you I’m thinking about.”
She smiled. “That’s a good recovery, but it’s too early.” She slipped into her chair and took a small sip of café.
Dekkard sat down across from her and split two croissants, then quietly began to eat while she slowly sipped more café.
After a while she asked, “Is there anything I should know in the newssheet?”
“They’re guessing about why Obreduur didn’t propose ministers for Treasury, Public Resources, and Security. I’d guess it’s a Commercer ploy—raising doubts when any smart person should know. The reasons were announced in open session almost a week ago.”
“That didn’t make it into the newssheets,” said Avraal, adding dryly, “I wonder why.”
“The growers in the southwest are worried that there’s been too much rain, and they’ve lost too much of their harvests, but the Landors still oppose any reduction in the tariff levels. Vonauer claims that Sargassan grain exporters will use a temporary shortage as an excuse to flood Guldor with inferior low-cost swampgrass rice or emmer wheat-corn, not to mention other grains.”
“Cliven would agree with that, I’m sure. Not that he’ll be writing any time soon.”
Dekkard decided to change the subject, quickly. “On another matter, we should be getting some interest in the engineering staff position this week. Could you confirm with Carlos about taking a morning off to help me with interviews? It won’t be until Furdi or later. It might not be until next week … or possibly later.”
“I will. I’m sure it won’t be a problem. He already agreed that I can have time off to help you, just so that it’s not last moment … unless it’s an emergency of some sort. That’s in his interest as well.” Avraal smiled.
“I’ll try to avoid emergencies. I’m still a little worried about the Security oversight hearings.”
“You’ll be fine. Just make sure you’re comfortable with anything you say or ask.”
“That might be difficult. Anything associated with Security makes me uneasy.” Dekkard finished his second croissant, and took a swallow of café.
Before long, the two had cleaned up the breakfast room and kitchen, and then finished dressing, and headed out the east door to the covered portico. More than a third later, after dropping Avraal off at Baartol’s office, he parked the Gresynt in the Council covered parking, and, studying the area carefully, walked toward the Council Office Building.
Ahead of him, two men entered the building, one a tall figure in a gray suit with a bear-like gait he recognized, and he realized it had to be Jaime Minz. The other man he couldn’t identify from behind. For a moment he wondered what Minz was doing, then realized that Minz was probably visiting a councilor, if not more than one.
Dekkard decided to hang back as the two stopped by the visitors’ desk. The guard checked the visitors’ log, then motioned, and a second guard appeared to escort the pair. When the second man turned slightly, Dekkard recognized him as well—Fernand Stoltz, the former committee legalist for the Public Resources Committee.
Still thinking about the appearance of Minz and Stoltz, Dekkard posted the letter to Naralta, climbed the center staircase to reach his office. Once there, he went to Roostof’s desk.
The senior legalist looked up. “Sir?”
“How are you coming on that legislation?”
“I’ll have a draft for you in the morning.”
“Good. Do we have any interest in the technical position yet?”
“We have four inquiries so far. There might be a few more today or tomorrow.”
Dekkard nodded. “Thank you.” He headed for his desk, settled himself, and began to go through the messages and mail. After reading through it all, he turned them over to the senior legalist.
Then he said to Margrit, “I’ll be at the Security Committee hearings until noon. I don’t know if I’ll stop to eat after that, but I should be back no later than a little after first bell.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dekkard passed two councilors he knew only by name and face on the way to the Council and nodded politely to both. They did the same.
Dekkard neared the committee room a good sixth before third bell to discover Laurenz Korriah and Shaundara Keppel, the two security aides for Councilor Kharl Navione, waiting outside, a pair with whom he’d often talked in the staff cafeteria or elsewhere. “Good morning, Laurenz, Shaundara.”
“Good morning, Councilor,” replied Korriah, smiling from ear to ear.
“Only in public,” replied Dekkard.
“So you’re a councilor and you were the last to know? You do have a way,” said Korriah, still grinning. “Where’s Avraal?”
“We got married a week ago last Findi. She’s working for a consultant, but she’ll be helping me as she can.”
“You don’t do things by thirds.” Korriah shook his head.
“Neither does Avraal,” replied Dekkard. “I take it your councilor’s inside?”
“He is.”
“Then I’d better introduce myself.”
“He’s a good man, but he’s very formal,” said Korriah in a lower voice.
“Thank you. I appreciate the advice.”
“Give our best to Avraal,” added Keppel.
“I will.” Dekkard smiled, then entered the committee room, where the only other councilor was Navione, who stood just below the dais holding a long, curved desk with seven seats behind it, each place marked with a bronze nameplate. Dekkard’s place was the last on the left, while the center place was Hasheem’s, with Navione to Hasheem’s left.
Dekkard walked up to the older Landor councilor. “Councilor Navione, I’m Steffan Dekkard. We haven’t been introduced, formally or otherwise.”
“Thank you, Steffan.” Navione replied pleasantly, but not effusively. “I’m glad to meet you face-to-face. Can you tell me anything beyond the general purpose of the hearings?”
“I’d only be guessing. Neither Chairman Hasheem nor the Premier has said a word to me. I do know that the Premier was concerned about how Security could have allowed the New Meritorists to infiltrate fifteen Security buildings without being discovered. Other than that…” Dekkard shrugged.
“That’s a very good question. I have some doubts that Security will have a satisfactory explanation. I believe he earlier raised the issue of how they obtained that much dunnite.”
“He may have. I know Kaliara Bassaana did as well.”
Navione stiffened slightly as Hasheem entered the committee room, then said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Steffan. Perhaps we should ready ourselves.”
“My pleasure as well,” answered Dekkard, who then moved to the dais, where he stood behind his place.
Over the next several minutes, the other committee members arrived, first Erik Marrak, the Commercer who had briefly been chair after Ivaan Maendaan’s assassination during the Summerend demonstrations; along with the other Commercer, Jaradd Rikkard; then Breffyn Haastar, the other Landor councilor besides Navione, followed by Tomas Pajiin, seated at the far end of the long, curved desk opposite Dekkard.
As the Council Hall bells chimed three times, a stocky man in a security-blue suit, white shirt, and slightly lighter blue tie walked into the room followed by two uniformed Security agents.
“Welcome, Deputy Minister Manwaeren,” said Hasheem. “Since we will be discussing confidential Security materials and action, this is not an open hearing. Your escorts can wait outside. The only others who will be joining us will be Premier Obreduur, who will only observe, along with his security empath.” Hasheem smiled politely.
Manwaeren nodded to the Security agents, who departed, passing Obreduur and Isobel Irlende as they entered.
Hasheem waited until Obreduur seated himself in the row of chairs behind the table reserved for those appearing before the committee. Then he looked to Manwaeren. “Deputy Minister Manwaeren, we’ll dispense with your reading your statement, but it will be entered into the record.”
Manwaeren nodded, offering a perfunctory smile.
“The committee is well aware of the public events,” continued Hasheem, “involving the New Meritorists and Security over the past several months. Our interest is to look into precisely why Security chose to react as it did and why it was so unprepared.” Hasheem paused. “Prior to the first large demonstration here at the Council, just how much information did the ministry have on the group?”
“Chairman Hasheem, at that time, all information on the ‘New Meritorists’ was being gathered and evaluated by the Intelligence Office. The group had circulated a few broadsheets and held several public meetings almost two years ago. Then the meetings stopped. So did the broadsheets. Dissident groups have come and gone for decades. This group appeared to be no different. In hindsight, it is clear that they decided to minimize their public presence…”
Dekkard listened as Manwaeren spent more than half a bell explaining why Security had been caught off guard. His explanation seemed to make sense—but only superficially. Yet from studying Isobel Irlende, Dekkard was fairly certain that Manwaeren was telling what he believed to be the truth.
Manwaeren’s explanation of lack of devoted resources and lack of knowledge also chilled Dekkard, because, if Security had no idea until events literally exploded, matters were far worse than he’d realized. Was that because Security was more interested in investigating political opponents and small businesses who threatened larger corporacions?
After Manwaeren finished, Hasheem nodded, then asked, “Who made the decision to deploy the Special Tactical Force to deal with the last demonstration at the Square of Heroes?”
“That was Minister Wyath’s decision, Councilor.”
“Was it also his decision to have them fire on armed protestors and then try to plant weapons on them to justify the shootings? Or was that your decision?”
Manwaeren stiffened slightly. “The STF commander was ordered not to shoot unless the patrollers or Palace Guards were threatened. It’s clear that he misjudged the degree of threat and overreacted. Neither Minister Wyath nor I had any knowledge of his orders to plant weapons until well after the fact. STF Commander Orsken was immediately relieved and faces criminal charges before the High Justiciary. The preliminary hearing was held last Furdi.”
Dekkard couldn’t help but frown. He’d read nothing about the charges or hearing, but clearly Manwaeren was telling the truth about that, given Irlende’s slight nod to Obreduur.
“Thank you. I have two final questions. How in the world was it possible for the New Meritorists to plant dunnite in fifteen regional Security headquarters buildings undetected? And how did they obtain that quantity of dunnite?”
“I’ll answer the second question first. After the explosions, we investigated and discovered a report that a steam lorry carrying bulk dunnite belonging to the Navy had been involved in an accident en route to the Navy munitions facility in Uldwyrk. It went into the river near Tryar. The bodies of the driver and guards were never found, but the bulk of the dunnite was still in the lorry … if ruined by water. At the time, the Navy assumed that while the lorry was in the river, the water washed away or destroyed some of the dunnite because the rear doors were presumably jolted open by the impact. In retrospect, it’s likely that the lorry was taken at some point, part of the cargo removed, and at a later time pushed off the bridge into the water.”
That certainly fit with what Dekkard had surmised after talking to Macri and Roostof immediately after the Summerend explosions.
“As for the first question, we can only surmise that during routine maintenance work, the stolen dunnite was reshaped and planted in the stations over the course of more than a year. To date, we have found no indications of how this was accomplished or by whom specifically.”
“Thank you.” Hasheem turned to Councilor Marrak, the Commercer from Suvion, who would have been the committee chairman if the Crafters had not won the election. “Councilor Marrak, do you have any questions for Deputy Minister Manwaeren?”
“I do, Sr. Chairman.” Marrak smiled warmly and looked at Manwaeren. “Was any information or evidence that the New Meritorists were considering violent actions ever brought to the attention of the ministry?”
“None that I am aware of.”
“Was there any way that the ministry could have pursued these miscreants at that time?”
“No, Councilor. It was as though they disappeared into the green.”
Dekkard sat, listening and watching, as Marrak asked more questions, inquiries designed to let Manwaeren effectively excuse what Dekkard felt had been a careless, if not willful, decision to expend marks following political enemies, instead of the more difficult task of investigating the New Meritorists.
Navione was next and his questions were more focused.
“Did the ministry take into account the disruption and deaths caused by the original Meritorists?”
“Why didn’t you believe that this group could potentially be as dangerous, or more so, as it turned out?”
“Who was ultimately responsible for those decisions?”
“Did you express any reservations about those decisions?”
By the time Navione finished his questions, Dekkard was convinced that Manwaeren had his position because he never disagreed with former Security Minister Wyath.
The questions asked by Haastar and Rikkard merely rephrased earlier questions. Pajiin simply stated that he had no questions at present.
“Councilor Dekkard, do you have any questions for the deputy minister?”
“I do, Chairman Hasheem. I’ll forgo those already brought by more experienced councilors, but I do have a few inquiries.”
“You may proceed.”
“Deputy Minister Manwaeren, you mentioned that the Intelligence Office lost sight of the New Meritorists for almost two years. From what I’ve been able to determine, almost a sixth of the Security budget goes to the Intelligence Office, and half of that goes to civic intelligence. I may be missing something, but if those marks weren’t spent on tracking down the New Meritorists, exactly what investigations, specifically, were they spent on?”
“Councilor, I really couldn’t speak to specifics. Those are a matter for the Intelligence Office to address.”
“Then, in general terms, what sorts of activities fall under ‘civic intelligence’? I’m asking, as a new councilor, because I’ve been unable to find a definition of what the Civic Intelligence section does investigate, which seems a bit unusual for a section that receives almost a tenth of the entire Security budget.”
“We provide a detailed budget—”
“I read the budget. It provides a breakdown for information gathering, analysis, and for enforcement. There are numbers for personnel, for equipment, and for operational costs. There is only a general statement that possible illegalities may be found in corporacions, guilds, and other organizations or groups. Nowhere does it explain exactly who the office is investigating … for example, how much of that budget went to investigate the New Meritorists or Foothill Freedom.”
“Revealing actual investigations would jeopardize public safety,” replied Manwaeren stiffly.
“Another question, then. Did the subject matter of the broadsheets and posters from two years ago differ markedly from those recently disseminated? In particular, did the earlier broadsheets call for changing the basis of the Great Charter?”
“As I recall, there was no great change—”
“So, two years ago the New Meritorists advocated overthrowing the Great Charter, and when they quit having open or public meetings, Security decided that they were no longer a threat?”
“There was no apparent immediate threat, Councilor.”
“Was there an immediate apparent threat from the guilds whose officials you tracked?”
“Councilor, I object—”
“Deputy Minister Manwaeren,” interjected Hasheem. “Councilor Dekkard has raised a valid point. Why did Security decide not to pursue the New Meritorists, who advocated overthrowing the Great Charter, but did continue to track and surveil individuals from groups offering no direct threat to the Council or the government of Guldor?”
Manwaeren looked across the faces of the councilors. “That decision was made by former Minister of Security Wyath. In retrospect, it was obviously incorrect.”
“One last question,” Dekkard said quickly, “what person or office is the operational supervisor of Special Agents?”
“Obviously, the ultimate authority is the Security minister, but the supervisor of Special Agents is the director of special projects, who reports directly to the minister.”
“Thank you, Deputy Minister,” said Hasheem strongly. “That will conclude the hearing for today. We appreciate your appearance and responses. The hearing tomorrow will deal with the operational choices made by the Intelligence Office. We would appreciate, as we have informed you, the presence of the director of that office and the heads of each of the three branches. We will expect specific answers.”
“They will be here, Sr. Chairman.”
To Dekkard, Manwaeren sounded anything but pleased.
The deputy minister rose from the small desk, turned and nodded politely to Obreduur, then made his way from the committee room. Obreduur and Irlende followed almost immediately.
Only then did Hasheem stand, turning to Navione and saying, “I appreciated your questions, Kharl.” Then he turned to Marrak, and added, “And yours as well, Erik.”
By then, Rikkard and Haastar were on their way out, and Dekkard eased toward Hasheem. “I hope my questions weren’t too presumptive.”
Hasheem shook his head. “You asked just enough. That way, the honorable deputy minister can’t say that he didn’t know of the committee’s interest.”
“That was also why you ended the hearing where you did, wasn’t it?” That … and that you didn’t want to reveal further Manwaeren’s ignorance of what was happening in his own ministry. Since Hasheem had no love of Commercer appointees, such as Manwaeren, and definitely no love of the Security Ministry, the slightly early termination of the deputy minister’s testimony was likely because Hasheem had far more interest in what those actually supervising the intelligence operations had to say. Dekkard also realized, belatedly, that Hasheem could summon Manwaeren before the committee because Obreduur had allowed the acting minister to remain as such until the Council approved a new Minister of Security.
“Exactly,” replied Hasheem. “It will be interesting to see how honest those who appear tomorrow will be. I’ll see you then, Steffan.”
Dekkard nodded politely in return. When he left the committee room, he immediately scanned the area, but the only person nearby was Pajiin, who stepped toward Dekkard, as if he’d been waiting.
“Would you like to join me for lunch, Steffan?”
“That would be good.” Dekkard kept his eyes moving as he walked beside the older councilor.
The two ended up seated at a table for two in the councilors’ dining room. Both ordered café and the duck cassoulet.
“Something’s going on in that committee,” said Pajiin quietly. “It’s more than just the New Meritorists. Did you come up with those questions yourself?”
“I did. I spent a few bells reading though committee files.”
“You went to a lot of work just to dig out enough to ask those questions. Or did Hasheem put you up to it?”
Pajiin’s direct bluntness concerned Dekkard, but he nodded, and said, “Hasheem had nothing to do with it.” Although he probably thought I would. “Call it professional interest. Security has been tailing Craft guild officials for years. Three security aides to Craft councilors have been attacked in the last year. Councilor Mardosh’s empath vanished without a trace. Former Landor Councilor Freust was assassinated, although it was reported as heart failure … I could go on. Security has enough resources to look into these, but so far as I can tell, they didn’t, yet they can’t protect their own buildings?”
Pajiin’s laugh was hard. “You think you’ll live long enough to even look into this mess?”
“I’m already looking into it, and I’m still here.” So far. There was something about Pajiin that reminded him of someone, but Dekkard couldn’t place who it was.
“Your questions made Manwaeren admit that he was a toady. He didn’t like your questions. Navione’s, either. Is Marrak always that stupid?”
“I’ve never heard him speak before.” Dekkard stopped as the server returned with their platters.
Once the server left, Pajiin went on. “Hasheem let Marrak ask all those easy questions. They were supposed to show that Security did its duty. Marrak didn’t even see that every answer Manwaeren gave showed how little he knew. Either that, or he was lying.”
“The Premier’s empath was watching him.” Dekkard took a quick bite of the cassoulet, warm and filling.
“You know she’s an empath? She the one who was your partner?”
Dekkard offered an amused smile. “My partner took another job. That was her replacement.”
“Sold out for more marks, did she?”
“Not really. She’s still working for the Craft Party, if less directly.” Before Pajiin could ask another question, Dekkard went on. “You were a Lumber Guild steward, I understand. How did that lead to your running for the Council?”
“The guild put me up.” Pajiin smiled coolly. “No one else was willing to try on just a few weeks’ notice. Had a few friends in the Newssheet Guild who were willing to point out the lack of interest in Eshbruk by the previous councilor.”
“You mean, Demarais Haaltf, one of those killed by the New Meritorists?”
“Thing is … Haaltf wasn’t even as bad as his predecessor, and there were a few stories about that suggesting that one rotten councilor might just be that, but two in a row wasn’t just the councilor. Enough people felt that way, but it was still close.”
“What do you think about the New Meritorists?”
Pajiin barked a laugh. “They’re smart folks who don’t understand people.”
“They seem to understand that people aren’t happy.”
“Who’s unhappy, Steffan? It’s lazy young people who don’t know how to work. It’s beetles who come here because they can’t make it in Atacama.”
“It’s also millworkers who lost their jobs to the punch-card steam looms, fieldworkers who aren’t needed because of steam tillers and tractors…”
“How long did you really work with your hands, Steffan?”
“Five years as an apprentice plasterer, Tomas, until I won the competition for a spot at the Military Institute.”
“Not many like you left among the younger people. Not that I’ve seen in Eshbruk.” Pajiin cleared his throat, then said, “The cassoulet’s not bad.”
Dekkard nodded, recognizing that Pajiin didn’t want to talk politics any longer. “I’ve been told that most everything here is decent or better, except for something called the burgher’s delight.”
“What is it?”
“Fried ground beef topped with cheese and stuffed between two halves of a plain roll.”
“Sounds terrible. Have you ever tried it?”
“With that description?” Dekkard shook his head.
After another third of eating and small talk, the two councilors left the dining room and went their separate ways, with Dekkard walking back to the Council Office Building.
He saw Jareem Saarh at a distance and half smiled, recalling how he’d thought Saarh would have trouble getting elected—since he’d been selected as a replacement after his predecessor had suffered an unfortunate “heart attack”—but apparently the anti-Commercer feeling had been great enough for Saarh to win.
Once back in his office, he went through the mail, and the typed responses Roostof had approved, signing most, occasionally adding a note in his own hand, and making changes to one or two. Then he headed back to the Council Hall and the Security Committee room, where he spent more than a bell going through committee records and previous hearing transcripts. He found nothing about specific operations conducted by the Intelligence Office.
Dekkard turned to the head clerk. “Why aren’t there any records about the Intelligence Office, except a summary description and budget and personnel numbers?”
“Sir, the previous Premier had them turned over to the Security Ministry.”
“For what reason?”
“We weren’t told, sir. They just came and collected them.”
“Was that something that Jaime Minz supervised?” Dekkard asked.
The clerk didn’t answer.
“Do I have to have Chairman Hasheem ask the question?”
“No, sir. Sr. Minz was one of them.”
“And the other?”
“I didn’t know him. He was from the ministry.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, sir.”
After that, Dekkard walked into the adjoining staff office, looking for Frieda Livigne, since she was the only remaining professional Security Committee staffer he knew. Her desk was in the corner. He walked toward her, then said quietly, “Frieda?”
Livigne looked up politely. “Yes, Councilor.”
“Steffan will do in private. Why aren’t there any records of Intelligence Office operations? Nothing beyond general references and budgets?”
She gave the smallest of headshakes. “Jaime told me it wouldn’t be long before you were asking questions.”
“He was right about that. Intelligence Office operations?”
“The staff has always been under orders not to write down or transcribe any specific operations.”
Dekkard could see that, in a fashion. “But there’s nothing beyond budgets and some general descriptions. Why did Jaime turn them over to the Security Ministry?”
“Because he was ordered to, I imagine.”
“Did Premier Ulrich offer any reason for the action?”
“Jaime said that Security needed them.”
Dekkard raised his eyebrows. “To substitute for all the Security records that were incinerated by the New Meritorists?” And a great excuse for getting them out of easy reach.
“Steffan, any councilor could access the committee records. Councilor Hasheem often did.”
“Except that Navione and Hasheem are the only ones left who could have. Everyone else on the committee is new.”
“Those things happen, Councilor.”
“Oh, I’m very aware that they occur. I’m even more aware of the circumstances when they occur.” He smiled politely. “By the way, would you happen to know what Premier Ulrich happens to be doing these days? I’m sure you know, if anyone does.”
Livigne paused, as if debating how to answer, then said, “I heard that he has a position as vice-presidente for political relations at Suvion Industries.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the clarification and the information.”
“It’s my pleasure, Councilor.”
“That,” replied Dekkard, with an amused smile, “I’m quite sure of.” He thought he saw the trace of a satisfied smile before he turned and left the staff office.
Ulrich … in a high position at Suvion Industries … the other major manufacturer of dunnite … and the same corporacion from which Wyath came. Dekkard doubted that either was a coincidence. He also wondered if Minz’s appearance that morning was also just a coincidence, and what Minz and Stoltz were doing together.
On the way back to his own office, he was especially alert, but saw nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary. There was one message on his desk. He opened it and read the short note.
Steffan—
You had some good questions. As usual, you were prepared.
There were no knowing lies told.
If you can, stop by the regular office on your way out. Don’t reply by message. I likely won’t get to it. Just come if you can.
The signature was just “Axel.”
Dekkard couldn’t say he was surprised. Obreduur had always tried to be as circumspect as possible in his dealings with other councilors. He slipped the note into the gray leather folder he used to carry papers to and from work, not that there were many—so far—then leaned back in his chair and concentrated on what approach he wanted to use in questioning the Security officials that would appear before the committee, both on Tridi and later in the week.
Before he knew it, it was past fourth bell, and he was walking south in the main second-floor corridor toward Obreduur’s office. When he entered it, he saw that Isobel focused on him immediately, then smiled and said, “It’s good to see you, Councilor.”
“I’m very glad you’re here, Isobel.”
“So are we,” added Karola from her desk beside the door to the inner office. “He said that you could go right in.”
“Thank you.” Dekkard stepped into the office and closed the door.
Obreduur looked up from the papers in stacks around him and gestured to the chair nearest to him.
Dekkard grinned as he sat down. “What did I miss?”
Obreduur chuckled. “Yes, I wanted to see you, but not because you missed anything. You met with Tomas Pajiin. He asked you, I assume?”
“He did. He seems rather direct. He’s also approached me twice. Perhaps I’m cynical, but that doesn’t seem like a coincidence, given that we have nothing in common and that I’m also at least twenty years younger … and that I’m a very junior councilor. So far, I’ve only told him what’s appeared in the newssheets here in Machtarn.” And not even that.
“That caution is probably advisable. He’s known for directness, according to the Advisory Committee. He doesn’t lie. He also isn’t particularly well-liked.”
Dekkard frowned. He abruptly recalled who it was that Pajiin reminded him of. “I know that it’s just a feeling, but Pajiin feels to me like a rougher and less polished version of Haasan Decaro.”
Obreduur offered a rueful but amused smile. “I don’t think he’s corrupt in the way Decaro was. At least, there’s no evidence to that effect … and no rumors … and there were always rumors about Haasan, although I was the only one who even came close to knowing even a part of what he was doing. But I’d judge Pajiin could be just as ruthless in using people.” After the slightest pause, Obreduur said pleasantly, “I understand you’ve been studying the Security Committee records.”
“What’s left of them. Did you know that Ulrich had what committee records there were about the Intelligence Office turned over to the Security Ministry?”
“Hasheem told me that. You’re likely the only other councilor who knows that. Navione has enough experience that he wouldn’t need to look at committee records, and none of the others would care or would know enough yet to think about it.”
“Then there’s no point in bringing it up.”
“No, there’s not.”
“How hard do you want me to question the Intelligence officials?”
“You’re the councilor.”
“You’re the Premier,” replied Dekkard.
“What do you think?”
Dekkard laughed softly, then said, “Just enough to make them wary. We won’t get any answers beyond generalities, or words to the effect that they don’t know the details or that those details are part of something ongoing that they’ll be happy to reveal in the future. Not that they’ll do it then, either.”
“So why is Hasheem holding hearings?”
“To prove that the ministry is unresponsive and ineffective and needs reform. That would be my guess. And to prove that a Craft government isn’t ignoring the problem while being able to point out to Commercers that we’re not rushing to act without getting the facts straight … as well as trying to buy time from the New Meritorists.” Dekkard paused then asked, “Did I leave anything out?”
“You covered all the major points.”
“I assume you want me to be friendly to Pajiin, but not too friendly. Cordial, if you will.”
“That might be useful.”
“Is Nellara still practicing with the throwing knives?”
“She is. I suspect she’s more devoted to them than Gustoff is.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” asked Dekkard.
“I can’t think of anything. How is Avraal doing?”
“She’s still getting settled with Carlos. Have you heard anything more that might bear on Markell or Siincleer Engineering?”
“I don’t know of anything new. I suspect that anyone investigating Siincleer Engineering won’t find a thing.”
“We already knew that. We’ll have to find another way. Perhaps an investigation of the failure of small competitors?”
“That’s possible, but it won’t be quick or easy.”
Dekkard had never thought that it would be.
Obreduur stood. “I look forward to the hearings tomorrow.”
“They’re likely to be more interesting for what’s not said.”
“Of course. That can suggest where to look, though.”
“Or where the Commercers want us to look,” returned Dekkard.
“That, too. Until tomorrow, Steffan.”
Dekkard inclined his head. “Until tomorrow, sir.”
“Leave the door open, I’ll be right behind you.”
Dekkard did so. Although he needed to consider what Obreduur hadn’t said, that could wait until he got back to the house. Until then, he needed to act like a security aide.