On the desk’s empty surface, the display plate almost reproduced the desk’s grain. Ky tapped it; the display shifted to a menu. She ran through it: her secretary’s grid for a daily schedule, now blank, the list of action items, a quick-call list, a faculty list, a staff list, a submenu of cadets arranged by class. She picked one off the cadet list at random, and found Arls Galonton’s complete record laid out for her perusal. Class (third year), his home (Fairmeadow, on Fulland) and family history, entry test scores, all complete to his performance on the midquarter exams (modestly above the mean).
She went back to the quick-call list. Heads of departments, of course. Rector of Defense. Some names she didn’t recognize. And one she did: Quindlan. That family, involved in the destruction of Vatta’s previous headquarters and the deaths of all within it that day, connected—she was sure—to the Malines crime family. She had no idea how many Quindlans there were, or which Quindlan was the one Kvannis had on his quick-call list. Something to find out later.
The shallow center drawer of the desk held a couple of erasers, rubber bands, paper clips, a stapler and a half-empty box of staples, a stylus for the desk’s screen, half a roll of mints. Well, Kvannis would’ve had time to clean this out. She was surprised that there was anything left. In the top drawer of the left-hand side, she found a box of notepaper embossed with the Academy’s name and logo, and the title COMMANDANT, and another box of envelopes. Behind them, shoved to the back of the drawer, was an empty pistol case similar to the one Greyhaus had left in his desk in Miksland and an empty metal box that reminded Ky of a cashbox. She sniffed it; it smelled of money.
The drawer below held hanging files, most empty. The labels meant nothing to Ky—cryptic combinations of letters and numbers. She pulled out one of the few papers, part of a spreadsheet printout that looked like it might refer to financials, and put it back in its folder. She moved the files back and forth, to see what was under them. At the back of the drawer, someone had created a pocket; Ky fished in it and brought out a small orange envelope. Empty? No. A tiny key.
Ky put the key on the desk and took another look at the bottom of the drawer. There was a discontinuity in the grain. She lifted out all the file folders and tapped, then looked at the front of the drawer. False bottom? Surely Kvannis would have emptied any secret compartments; if the key opened anything in this office, he’d have left it, but not the contents of the secret places. Or the key might be to some lockbox of his own, at his city home. She looked at the wall where the drilled-out safe gaped open. No way to tell now if this key would have opened it.
She shrugged, put the key in her own pocket for later consideration, put the files back in the drawer, and moved to the drawers on her right. The upper one held bound books, mostly of regulations. She was surprised: Kvannis had worked for the previous Commandant; surely he knew the relevant regulations by heart, or could have consulted them in the Commandant’s library. Manual of Courts-Martial, 13th Edition, looked as she remembered it from her classes, and so did Slotter Key Joint Services Training Standards, but On Conspiracy, Treason, and Sedition, though bound in the same gray cloth with black lettering on the cover… held sheets with lists of names and places, contact numbers, and timetables.
Ky stared at it. Why had Kvannis left that here? Had he thought someone else would clear it away? Was this a copy left behind for someone who would collect it? She closed the cover, moved it to the shallow middle drawer, and moved the books to see what was underneath. As she did, a knock came at the door, and immediately the door opened.
“Commandant, excuse me—” It was Colonel Stornaki. “I was just wondering—” His gaze wandered across the desk to the open drawer. Ky saw the momentary check, heard the hesitation in his voice, then the renewed pace as he went on, “if you knew where Master Sergeant MacRobert was.”
“I’m not certain,” Ky said, “but he may have gone out to the base with the Rector.”
“Oh. Well, he had certain files; I wonder if he put them in the—in your—in that desk.”
“I doubt he would, Colonel,” Ky said. “If they were files he knew you needed, he would leave them in your office, don’t you think?”
“He may not have known,” Stornaki said. He could not keep his eyes away for long from that open drawer. “Were you looking for something yourself, Commandant? Perhaps I could help.”
“Perhaps you could,” Ky said. “If I knew exactly what I was looking for. Mostly I just wanted to know where things were—markers, stylus, paper, clips, and file folders. I still wonder why Kvannis fled in such haste—”
“I still think it may have been an abduction.”
“Between here and his family home? That seems most unlikely. And no trace of him found, or of his driver, or of the car, or of the two kitchen staff who disappeared a little later? Even more unlikely. I believe he was fleeing some trouble, and I have been looking for clues.”
“In—in his desk?”
“Yes. The forensic team was looking for indications of what might have been destroyed. I know they found evidence that the shredder and incinerator had both been used late in the evening before he left.”
Stornaki was sweating now.
“I found a small key in a hidden pocket of the bottom drawer on the other side,” Ky said, keeping her voice casual. “Obviously not to the safe—do you know what it was for?”
“Perhaps a lockbox at home? His wife had some expensive jewelry. He might keep the spare here.”
“Perhaps,” Ky said. “Though I would expect that to be in the Commandant’s quarters, not here. But no matter. I found disarray in the files, some things clearly missing, others disordered. And in this drawer—” She touched the top volume, tapped it. “Books of regulations. Did he have a particular interest in court-martial procedures? Was some cadet about to be indicted for a court-martial offense?”
“Not that I know of, Commandant.” Stornaki jerked his head, as if his collar were suddenly too tight. “Of course, something might have come up that… uh… he had not yet told me. Or perhaps he’d been asked to serve on a court by General Molosay, out at the base.”
Ky nodded, as if that made sense. “And this other volume, Joint Services Training Standards: are you aware of any problems here with satisfying the standards of a particular branch? Is interbranch rivalry a problem these days? I don’t remember problems with it, from my time…”
“No… not that I know of.” Sweat rolled down his face now, darkening his high collar.
“Um.” Ky looked down, deliberately, to see what he’d do, freed of her intent gaze. He slumped a little and took a step nearer. “There was another volume in that drawer I found somewhat… surprising.” She opened the middle drawer and with her left hand slid out the one she’d just put away, laying it flat on the desk as she pulled her pistol from the quick-draw she’d found. “Was it this you were looking for, Colonel Stornaki? This supposed text on conspiracy, treason, and sedition? With all the examples?”
He turned even paler, and staggered. Ky had the pistol out and pointing at him. “Sit down in that chair behind you, hands on your head, Colonel.”
“But I—but I didn’t do—but I didn’t—don’t—know—” The whites of his eyes gleamed.
“I’m certain that you do know,” Ky said, riding the bubble of anger she felt. She tapped the desktop without taking her gaze from him, though he looked to be a shivering wreck. The menu came up, and she tapped Security.