“I’m not his enforcer,” Bel said. “I’m not your enemy either, so you can stop looking like I’ve got a capper at your throat. Are you seriously just going to send it all to Internal Security?”

Jainan lifted his head and swallowed down bile. “This is—” He couldn’t say embezzlement. That was a crime. He could feel Taam in the room beside them, incredulous and impatient. “This needs official attention.”

“That’s virtuous of you,” Bel said. “Listen, I know how law enforcement works. Think about it. And if you really have to do it, keep a copy.”

“A copy,” Jainan said. He looked down at his wristband. Every wheel in his mind was spinning wildly. A forensic copy. That would be a logical thing to do, though he could barely focus on any thought that wasn’t Taam and embezzlement and Kiem. He could not stop his mind spinning in panic. “You’re not going to tell Kiem yet?”

“I’m not in the business of spreading around other people’s secrets,” Bel said.

“I’m going to finish my paperwork.” She gave him an ironic salute and closed the study door behind her.

Jainan spent some time remembering how to take a forensic image while his mind pounded with a drumbeat of panic, then sat frozen for a good thirty seconds before the final gesture that would send it to Internal Security. They already had the encrypted file—Jainan had sent it himself, what seemed like a lifetime ago—but the bio-key was Taam’s passphrase in Taam or Jainan’s voice.

Jainan doubted Taam had kept a backup key. Internal Security hadn’t seen the contents.

The suspicious activity had all come from Jainan’s device. Taam hadn’t risked his own account: he’d used his remote access to Jainan’s wristband. If Internal Security had been interested in Jainan before, this would be the final straw and would give them more than enough grounds to hold Jainan for questioning. Kiem would find out. The newslogs would get hold of it.

He stood up. He retrieved Taam’s messages. He retrieved the Kingfisher files.

He threw up more and more documents and scraps on the wall until the whole

room was a frantic mess of projections and numbers. None of it made sense. Of course Internal Security was looking into Jainan himself: he had the skills to sabotage Taam’s flyer and, apparently, a motive to cover something up. The messages had come from his device. It looked like Jainan had been embezzling from his partner’s project.

He stared at the stream of Taam’s encrypted messages. Why would Taam contact Sefalan raiders? There was no more reason for Taam to do that than for Jainan himself. Had Jainan had a psychotic break and committed a crime, or helped Taam commit one? His head certainly wasn’t quite right; he felt he had not been able to think for—for years, maybe. Since he came to Iskat. You’re always so paranoid.

Was he mad? Had he done something to Taam?