“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?
Jainan’s strained hearing caught the sound of the door sliding open in the main room. He didn’t even think before he killed all the files, wiped his notes, and pulled the data coin off his handheld. As the study door slid open, he turned toward it with the coin hidden in his pocket, as composed as he could make himself. He only just remembered to control his breathing.
It wasn’t until he saw Kiem’s face that he realized he had been expecting Taam.
“How’s it going? Sorry it got a bit late…” Kiem broke off, belatedly taking stock of the empty room and Jainan standing in front of him. “Uh. Were you just finishing, or did I interrupt?”
Jainan knew enough to take hold of a lifeline when one presented itself. “I was just finishing,” he said. Could Kiem read his discovery on his face? “How was your…” He stopped. He had forgotten what Kiem had gone out to do.
“Fete,” Kiem said helpfully. “Jakstad Prime School fete. It was good, thanks. I came in to ask you if you wanted to come on a trip to their sister school in Braska on fifth-day? They’re having a graduation festival. I’ve already booked to go, but I could add you. Not that exciting, I know, but I thought we could go over the mountains, it’s a nice flight—I’m talking too much again, aren’t I.”
“Yes,” Jainan said, without even really hearing the question. “Thank you.”
Kiem glanced at the table uneasily, and Jainan flinched as if he’d left his documents projected over it. That just made Kiem’s eyes snap back to him. “Are you all right?”
It was a much slower, more hesitant inquiry than Bel’s—and more dangerous. Jainan’s fingers clenched convulsively around the data coin in his pocket, his mind still spinning, and he groped for an answer. “Fine.”
“Okay,” Kiem said, still slowly. His eyes didn’t leave Jainan’s face.
Jainan’s thoughts were a frantic whirl. Kiem would jump to the conclusion that Jainan had been involved. It was the only logical outcome. Jainan couldn’t trust his own memories. He didn’t know where his duty lay, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.
“I know you don’t like asking for help,” Kiem said carefully, “but you could keep in mind that I’ve got a duty to you too. Think of it like … a credit account you haven’t drawn on yet. I’m just saying that if there’s something I can do—”
“Stop,” Jainan said abruptly, unable to bear it any more. It was a timely reminder that the last contract he had signed bound him to Kiem, not Taam, and keeping this from his partner was also a betrayal. “Sit down.”
His manners had deserted him, as they sometimes did when he was agitated enough. As usual Kiem didn’t seem to notice. He took the chair by the sofa and looked at Jainan expectantly, his hands resting on his knees. Jainan realized he was watching Kiem for signs of tension and deliberately turned to the desk. It wasn’t his business how Kiem took the information. “I may be incorrect about this,” he said. He brought up the documents again. “But I must tell you something.”
It took time. Jainan was less able than usual to explain clearly. He used too much detail; he forgot Kiem was not a mathematician; he lost the thread and had to go over things twice or more. His voice was harsh in his own ears and broke on some words without warning.
Kiem didn’t understand, and still didn’t understand—and then the frown faded from his face and was replaced by dawning horror. Jainan doggedly continued, laying out every piece of evidence he had found, until he ran out of things to explain.
They sat in silence. Jainan didn’t try and add anything.
“Well, shit,” Kiem said, finally. “Taam was committing a crime.”
Jainan clenched his hands on his knees. “I could be mistaken about the finances. The only criminal activity is on my account.”
“You said Taam had access to your account,” Kiem said.
Jainan couldn’t bear to look at him. He rose to pace across the room and examined the encrypted projection. “Why would Taam bother to send messages through me? I thought the account was just a data backup.” His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. “Of course Internal Security is interested in me. The simplest explanation is that it was me.” He turned back, tapping each projection compulsively. “I am going mad. You should alert the authorities.”
Kiem raised a hand as Jainan passed his chair. “Jainan.”
Jainan stopped dead, but all Kiem did was spread out his fingers in midair, level with Jainan’s chest. Jainan breathed out. “You must consider it logically.”
“You’re not going mad,” Kiem said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been living with you, and I’d be able to tell,” Kiem said. “I think you’re just really stressed. And you said money is missing from Operation Kingfisher, which you weren’t even involved in.” He frowned. “And didn’t Internal Security say someone tried to hack into Kingfisher recently? You didn’t do that. Neither did Taam.”