“Ordek. I sent word to him that I’d like to meet and talk with him about old times in the mine. I was going to see him this morning, except when I arrived I discovered he’s passed away last night.”
Cannibal shifts his weight behind the bench. “Say what you’re saying, brother.”
“I’m saying I don’t believe it was an accident.”
“Scar.” Heavy leans forward, elbows on his knees. “He was ninety-one rotations on a dark stair he had no business being on. That’s not a murder, that’s a Tuesday.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Do you? Because it sounds like…” Heavy stops himself.
“I know it sounds like a male who sees a conspiracy in every shadow has found another one.” I say it for him, flatly, so he doesn’t have to. “Say it. I’ve thought it about myself all day.”
Nobody says anything.
“So convince us,” Ines says. “You’ve been at this longer than any of us. Lay out why it isn’t a Tuesday.”
“Because of when it happened.” I put my hands on my knees and I make myself go slowly, because this is the part that either lands or doesn’t. “Three nights ago I pulled the maintenance archive for the first time in eight years and found his name marked twice. Two nights ago I sent word to him asking to meet. Last night —thatnight, the very next one — a male who has wandered those levels three or four diurnals a week for forty-nine rotations finally misses a step.” I look around the room. “And this morning I turn up at his door with food in my handsand a list of questions in my head. Four beings knew his name.” I hold up my hand and count them. “Myself. Ines. Roxy and Leah. I said it out loud in one sealed room, to family, and nowhere else. I never spoke it in front of the humans. Not once — I was careful, and I remember being careful, because Andrew Wilson was standing in my office at the time.”
Claws sits up straighter. “Then how — “
“That’s the question, isn’t it.” I let it sit. “That’s the question that’s been eating me since the corridor this morning.”
“Maybe nobody had to know his name,” Ines says slowly.
Every head turns.
“Think about it. Scar, when you pulled that archive, what exactly did you pull?”
“The Minecorp facilities records. The full maintenance schedule going back forty rotations.”
“Minecorp records. Not yours. Not something private you keep on your own system.” Her eyes narrow. “Company records. Which means the access is logged, and which means anybody else with legitimate credentials in that same system could see that somebody suddenly went digging through rotations of old facilities schedules for the first time in living memory. They wouldn’t need Ordek’s name, they’d only need to know the investigation had moved to the old maintenance records. Anybody who knew what actually happened eight years ago — anybody whoarrangedit — would know exactly which old male was down there both times. They’d have known his name for eight years. All they needed was to learn somebody was finally looking.”
“And who,” Chief says quietly, “has been sitting inside those exact systems every diurnal recently, with legitimate credentials, doing an audit?”
“You, Mara and Andrew Wilson,” Rook says.
“I trust Mara implicitly,” I announce.
“All right,” Chief says. “Then somebody tell me why the being who could’ve led to Ordek’s death was that male. He ate at this table. He’s a grid tech from New Earth with a nice laugh and no reason in the Four Sectors to care about a dead facilities male on a planet he’d never heard of a moon cycle ago.”
“He has a reason,” Roxy says. “Ines found it.”
“Then let’s hear it.”
Ines tells them the whole story of the fraud during Andrew’s prior jobs and his gambling addiction and debts.
“Why,” Trunk says. “Why does a male steal from three employers in a row?”
“Because he owes money.” Ines says it flatly. “He’s a gambler who’s been in debt for the better part of a decade and it isn’t small and it isn’t to a bank.”
“And then I believe he attached himself to his sister,” I say. “Mara doesn’t know about any of her brother’s nefarious background. She only sees what he wants her to see because he wants to remain in good standing with a female with security clearances and access to restricted systems in every sector he’d care to reach. And from that diurnal forward he’s been a model employee.”
“Gods,” Heavy says.
“He’s been in my office.” Rook’s voice has gone strange. “Scar. He’s been inyouroffice. Standing at your screens.”
“Yes.”
