“Yes, sire. I made considerable progress on both questions yesterday and last night.”
Since his last report, in other words, so some of this was going to be new to Gregor as well. A wave of the emperor’s hand directed Duv to the front; Gregor leaned on the podium, and Duv took up a practiced lecturer’s stance beside the comconsole table. His eye took in his audience almost as curiously as his audience’s eyes took in him.
“In examining what documents and records remain from the construction of ImpSec Headquarters, almost eighty years ago, I was able to trace the officer who signed off on the bunker inspection, a Captain Geo Pharos. He was ImpSec: he had as his listed assistant a sergeant of engineers, Vlad Norman. One month later, both men, along with three civilian employees, were killed in that on-site construction accident where, according to the subsequent engineering reports, two floors in progress collapsed due to incorrect-to-spec sizing and improper installation of the bracing connectors. Buggered to fit, was the, er, engineering term underlined in the holograph report. Twice.”
In the third row, Colonel Otto, brows rising with keen interest, nodded; Galeni cast him an acknowledging sort of analyst’s salute.
Galeni continued, “For which unauthorized shortcut Emperor Yuri, on his architect’s recommendation, had the construction boss hanged, and bracing on the girders and connectors throughout triply reinforced, but that’s another tale.
“Ah, those were the days,” muttered Otto; Ivan couldn’t tell if it was with irony or approval.
“There are two possible explanations for the lapse at the time in revealing the, if I may say it, extraordinary contents of that bunker. One, Pharos and Norman may have simply blown off the inspection, due to laziness or time pressures, assuming that the then-thirty-year-old bunker held nothing of interest or danger. The project was already over budget and late—hence, apparently, the business with the girder connections—so this hypothesis cannot be totally ruled out. Or two, that they discovered the contents, but chose to conceal the news hoping to come back secretly later and make some private profit for themselves. Norman’s prior military records are unexceptionable, but the temptation, as we have discovered, was large. Pharos has possibilities in this direction—things around Yuri were already getting worrisome by then, which he would have been in position to see at close range, so he might have been driven to this alternate method of providing for his future by either greed or fear. Or both, of course.”
“Do you have a favored explanation yet?” inquired Gregor.
Galeni shook his head. “The most interesting question of history is always, What were these people thinking? But I’m afraid it’s often also the most elusive. Unless some new documentation surfaces in my searches, that’s as far as I can honestly take the tale.”
“Very good,” said Gregor, meaning, probably, a slightly disappointed Very well. “And Abelard? I should mention, in a personal communication I received from the Viceroy of Sergyar last night, Aral says he doesn’t remember ever ordering anyone to blow up Vordarian’s ImpSec building. Such a decision ought to have made it up to his level, he said, but, in the confusion of the times, it’s perfectly possible it didn’t. And, ah, a few other remarks about excessive initiative in subordinates, but they’re not pertinent here.”
Galeni had come alert, but now his shoulders slumped slightly. “I was hoping he could clarify—oh, well. At least we know it couldn’t have been ordered by Negri against Vordarian, because Negri was dead on the first day.”
Illyan cleared his throat, and spoke up. “Actually, some such beyond-the-grave sleeper order from Chief Negri would have been perfectly possible. Back then.” His hand and Lady Alys’s found each other, down between their seats.
Galeni appeared to suffer a brief pang from having what might have been his only certainty plucked from him. “Ah. Well. In that case. Abelard had an exemplary record prior to the Pretendership. That…gets us no forwarder, because it’s quite clear that many officers and men at the time did honestly think Vordarian might be the best thing for Barrayar.”
“Hence Regent Vorkosigan’s generous pardons, after,” Gregor put in.
Galeni nodded warily. “Abelard was a senior guard on ImpSec HQ itself; he certainly knew the territory he was, er, under. His records break off abruptly at the start of the hostilities, and don’t take up again till after, during the cleanup, when he was finally listed as missing. Missing, period, mind you—neither ‘in action’ nor ‘absent without leave.’ He’s certainly not accused of desertion. At this point, I would want to turn his remains and those of his equipment over to a forensic pathologist, to look for any other physical clues—the nature of the bomb or the construction of the tunnel in which he was found might have helped—but, ah.”
“Indeed,” sighed Gregor, with a less-than-pleased glance at the Arquas assembled.
“Is that pissed?” Tej whispered in Ivan’s ear.
“Not yet,” he whispered back. “Sh.”
“So what’s your best guess?” said Gregor. “As a former ImpSec analyst.”
Galeni suppressed a pained look. Ivan wondered if he was reciting, Accuracy, brevity, clarity to himself, possibly with an added, pick the best two out of three. “My feeling”—and his emphasis suggested his low opinion of that word—“was that he was probably one of the many men cut off from their units, who re-sorted themselves as they could find each other, and prosecuted the war as best they could on their own. That still doesn’t prove for which side. Given more time, my next suggested direction of inquiry would be to send field agents to locate as many of his old mates still alive as we could, and interview them.”
Ivan glanced back at Allegre; his slight wince suggested he was praying, Please Gregor, not this week.
Gregor may have heard that prayer; in any case, he went on. “And how is emptying the bunker coming along?”
Pidge shot to her feet. “May I note a point of purely Barrayaran law. Your, er…sir.” She’d at least retained Ivan’s hasty instruction, No, don’t call him sire; he’s not your liege-lord, so he’s not your sire. In any case, Gregor granted her a curt nod. She went on, “Barrayaran law supports the claim of a ten-percent finder’s fee for lost items, including historical artifacts confiscated by District or the Imperial governments.”
“Hell, Pidge, that’s meant for lost wallets,” muttered Ivan, under his breath. He thought only Tej heard him, by the squeeze on his arm, but Pidge glanced his way in irritation before she went on more firmly.
“House Cordonah, jointly, wishes to put in such a claim upon the contents of Lady ghem Estif’s old workplace. Because without us, it would never have been found.”
“At this time,” said Illyan, not quite in an undervoice.
“Intact,” countered Pidge. “Given yet more time, who knows who else might have found and raided it before you people ever got around to looking?”
Gregor held up a palm. “I am aware of the precedent, Baronette. We will return to the point later.”
Collective or Imperial We? In any case, Pidge, in a moment of blessed acumen, nodded and sat down.
Gregor said, “Continue, please, Commodore.”
Galeni gave a short nod. “I’ve placed Professora Helen Vorthys and her picked team of conservators in charge of all papers, documents, and data devices, the last of which we cleared out yesterday and sent to a secured location at the Imperial University. Sorting and preservation has only just started.”