Which, she reflected, was uncommonly stupid of me.

“At an absolute minimum,” Benjamin told her. “We haven’t been able to find out where the money’s actually going—not with any degree of certainty, at any rate. Part of the problem is that the Republic’s so large and constitutes such a huge internal market that virtually all of it could be being plowed back into the domestic economy. More to the point, so much of their economy’s been so distressed for so long that it’s literally impossible to single out all of the perfectly legitimate places they could be pumping funds back into it. Unfortunately, we don’t think that’s the case. Or, rather, we’re afraid it is the case, but that we wouldn’t like the place they’re spending all of that money if we could confirm it.”

“And that place is?” Honor prompted as he paused.

“We don’t know,” Benjamin admitted, “but we have two straws in the wind, as it were. One is the existence of some top-secret project, one that was apparently launched under the Committee as much as several years before the McQueen Coup but which has been continued under Pritchart and Theisman. All we know about it for certain is its codename: ‘Bolthole.’ That, and the fact that Pierre and Saint-Just funneled huge amounts of money into whatever it is even at the height of the war and despite their worst financial problems. We don’t have confirmation that Pritchart and Theisman have continued the same level of funding, but the discrepancy between what their revenues ought to be and what they’re reporting certainly seems to suggest that some ‘black project’ is continuing to siphon off an awful lot of cash.

“That’s straw number one. Straw number two is the name of the one officer our sources have been able to identify as being closely associated with whatever ‘Bolthole’ is since Theisman’s little revolution. I believe you know her.”

“I do?” Honor was startled and it showed.

“Oh, indeed you do,” Benjamin said with something almost like grim amusement. “Her name is Vice Admiral Shannon Foraker.”

“Oh, my God.” Honor abruptly sat all the way back in her chair. “Foraker? You’re sure?”

“We can’t be one hundred percent positive. All we can say for certain is that her name appeared on the promotion lists, that we haven’t been able to find her anywhere else, and that at least two separate sources within the Republic have suggested that where she disappeared to is wherever ‘Bolthole’ hangs out.” The Protector shrugged. “There’s no possible way to confirm it, but if I were a secretary of war who had some sort of high-cost project in applied research and development going on somewhere and I had someone of Foraker’s demonstrated abilities to put in charge of it, I know what I’d be doing with her.”

“You and I both,” Honor agreed feelingly. She shook her head. “You’re right. That’s a much scarier possibility than some sort of tussle with the Andies over Silesia. But I can’t believe Thomas Theisman would be a party to renewing hostilities! He’s too smart for that.”