distractions.”
“Oh, don’t start that again.”
“Talking of which.” The hooded man turned round in his seat and pulled out two brass tubes from behind the seat cushions. “Your friend. This one’s a record of the personal information she’s given us at various times – her initial interview, sundry reviews and interrogations. All about her background, family, early life. You’ve read it, of course.”
“Some time ago,” Oida admitted. “Look—”
“Just run your eye over it again, there’s a good chap.”
Oida glowered at him, took the tube, poked out the roll of parchment with his fingertip, unscrolled it and glanced down the page. “Yes, I know all that,” he said. “But if you seriously think—”
The hooded man leaned forward and tweaked the page out of his hand. “The other roll,” he said, “is what we’ve found out about her. You know, routine enquiries. Actually, most of it only came to light when you recommended her for promotion. We always do an investigation, as you know. Well,” he added. “Read it.”
There wasn’t that much, about half a standard roll, written in orthodox administrative minuscule. Oida read it, rolled it up and put it back in the tube. The hooded man took it from him. “Interesting?” he said.
Oida shrugged. “Not particularly.”
“Aren’t you just the tiniest bit interested? She lied on oath, for one thing. Repeatedly. Strictly speaking, I should cashier her from the Service, at the very least.”
Oida looked up sharply. “You’ll do no such thing.”
That got him a big smile. “Now, then,” the hooded man said. “And, no, I’m not inclined to take official notice of it, at this time. But ask yourself. Why would anyone risk their career and their life, lying about things like that?”
“Has it occurred to you she doesn’t actually know about it herself?”
The hooded man shrugged. “It’s possible,” he said. “But unlikely, in my opinion. More to the point, did you know? Does that explain your interest?”
Oida’s face didn’t change. “I’ll ignore that,” he said. “Look, she’s a superb operative, one of the best we’ve got. She does as she’s told, she gets the job done—”
“She murdered a political officer at Beloisa.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. More to the point, I trust her. We work well together. One of the conditions of my working for you is, I choose my people. I thought that was understood.”
The hooded man sighed. “The last thing I want to do is make problems or break up an eminently successful team. But when people lie, I want to know why. Most lies are easy to understand, it’s when people lie for no apparent reason that I get concerned. You do see that, don’t you?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t know. If she knew, it’s like you said, why would she lie about it?”
The hooded man thrust the two rolls into his sleeve. “How you conduct your affairs is your business,” he said, “so long as it doesn’t cause problems for Division. I’m just warning you, in the friendliest possible way; be aware of this, bear it in mind, and don’t put me in a position where I have to do anything about it. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“Of course you do, you’re a smart fellow. Now, tell me about Blemya. Is it true that the Revisionists are poised to take over the Lower Chamber?”
He answered about a hundred questions as clearly and honestly as he could, glad of the respite. When the hooded man finally ran out of things to ask him about, he said, “You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Forza Belot.”
The hooded man was silent for a long time. “I don’t know anything about that operation,” he said at last. “I don’t think anybody at Division does, either. As far as I can tell, it’s being run entirely from Central, and you know them, they wouldn’t tell you if your hair was on fire. My guess—” He paused and smiled. “Which is based on
“Oh, don’t start that again.”
“Talking of which.” The hooded man turned round in his seat and pulled out two brass tubes from behind the seat cushions. “Your friend. This one’s a record of the personal information she’s given us at various times – her initial interview, sundry reviews and interrogations. All about her background, family, early life. You’ve read it, of course.”
“Some time ago,” Oida admitted. “Look—”
“Just run your eye over it again, there’s a good chap.”
Oida glowered at him, took the tube, poked out the roll of parchment with his fingertip, unscrolled it and glanced down the page. “Yes, I know all that,” he said. “But if you seriously think—”
The hooded man leaned forward and tweaked the page out of his hand. “The other roll,” he said, “is what we’ve found out about her. You know, routine enquiries. Actually, most of it only came to light when you recommended her for promotion. We always do an investigation, as you know. Well,” he added. “Read it.”
There wasn’t that much, about half a standard roll, written in orthodox administrative minuscule. Oida read it, rolled it up and put it back in the tube. The hooded man took it from him. “Interesting?” he said.
Oida shrugged. “Not particularly.”
“Aren’t you just the tiniest bit interested? She lied on oath, for one thing. Repeatedly. Strictly speaking, I should cashier her from the Service, at the very least.”
Oida looked up sharply. “You’ll do no such thing.”
That got him a big smile. “Now, then,” the hooded man said. “And, no, I’m not inclined to take official notice of it, at this time. But ask yourself. Why would anyone risk their career and their life, lying about things like that?”
“Has it occurred to you she doesn’t actually know about it herself?”
The hooded man shrugged. “It’s possible,” he said. “But unlikely, in my opinion. More to the point, did you know? Does that explain your interest?”
Oida’s face didn’t change. “I’ll ignore that,” he said. “Look, she’s a superb operative, one of the best we’ve got. She does as she’s told, she gets the job done—”
“She murdered a political officer at Beloisa.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. More to the point, I trust her. We work well together. One of the conditions of my working for you is, I choose my people. I thought that was understood.”
The hooded man sighed. “The last thing I want to do is make problems or break up an eminently successful team. But when people lie, I want to know why. Most lies are easy to understand, it’s when people lie for no apparent reason that I get concerned. You do see that, don’t you?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t know. If she knew, it’s like you said, why would she lie about it?”
The hooded man thrust the two rolls into his sleeve. “How you conduct your affairs is your business,” he said, “so long as it doesn’t cause problems for Division. I’m just warning you, in the friendliest possible way; be aware of this, bear it in mind, and don’t put me in a position where I have to do anything about it. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“Of course you do, you’re a smart fellow. Now, tell me about Blemya. Is it true that the Revisionists are poised to take over the Lower Chamber?”
He answered about a hundred questions as clearly and honestly as he could, glad of the respite. When the hooded man finally ran out of things to ask him about, he said, “You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Forza Belot.”
The hooded man was silent for a long time. “I don’t know anything about that operation,” he said at last. “I don’t think anybody at Division does, either. As far as I can tell, it’s being run entirely from Central, and you know them, they wouldn’t tell you if your hair was on fire. My guess—” He paused and smiled. “Which is based on
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