Investments Read Online Free Page A

support.
    “Allodorm is a Daimong from Devajjo, in the Hone Reach,” she continued. “During the war he received a contract to build four— or was it five?— transport vessels for the Fleet. The war ended before he could deliver the ships, and the contract was canceled.”
    “So what did he do?” Martinez asked. “Convert the transports to civilian purposes? That would be allowed, wouldn’t it, if the government didn’t want them anymore?”
    Terza frowned. “There was an allegation that he never built the ships at all.”
    Martinez blinked. “He took the money and did nothing? ”
    “Other than commission some architects, print some stationary, and recruit some staff and some high-priced legal talent, no.” She looked thoughtful. “It was possible to make a calculation that the war would be over before he had to deliver. If we won, the contracts would be canceled; and if the Naxids won, they wouldn’t care if he’d started work or not.”
    “Didn’t the Investigative Service climb all over Allodorm’s operation? Couldn’t the ministry at least have asked for its money back?”
    Terza offered a mild shrug. “After the war the IS was involved in purging rebels and their sympathizers, and didn’t spare a thought for the people who were supposed to be on our side. When the file finally came across my desk I recommended an investigation, but the ministry decided against it. I don’t know why; it’s possible that Allodorm is politically protected.”
    “So now Allodorm is on Chee, and Marcella and Lord Pa are traveling to consult with him.”
    “Maybe he’s a sub-contractor.”
    “That doesn’t speak well for the prospect of the Chee Company’s balance sheet.”
    “The Chee Company may be all right,” Terza pointed out. “It’s Lord Pa and the Meridian Company that’s the prime contractor. If anyone’s being gouged, it’s probably them.”
    “Either way, it’s my family’s money.” He shifted closer to Terza’s warmth and she rested her head on his shoulder and put an arm across his chest. “ Our balance sheet has improved anyway. What shall we do with Mukerji’s cash?”
    He could sense her amusement. “Buy something preposterous, I suppose. You’ve always talked about taking up yachting.”
    Martinez felt a twinge of annoyance. “They wouldn’t let me into the Seven Stars or the Ion Club,” he said. “A provincial can’t past their august doors, no matter how many medals he’s won.” He kissed Terza’s forehead. “Or how many high-placed ministry officials he’s married.”
    “So join a lesser club,” Terza said, “and beat the pants off the Seven Stars in every match.”
    Martinez grinned at the ceiling. “That’s not a half-bad idea,” he said.
    He felt Terza’s warm breath on his neck as she spoke. “Is this the room you lived in as a child?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact. Same furniture, too, but the model Fleet ships that I hung from the ceiling are gone. And so are the uniform guides to the various academies that I’d tacked up on the walls.”
    Her low chuckle came to his ear. “So joining the Fleet was your idea, I take it.”
    “Oh yes. I had a lot of romantic ideas— must have got those from my mother. And my father didn’t mind, because in the Fleet at least I’d learn some useful skills.”
    He remembered, before the war, when speaking with— with a certain person, a woman he preferred not ever to think about, a woman with pale hair and milky skin and blazing green eyes— he’d expressed his frustration at being in a meaningless service, a club not unlike the Seven Stars but less useful, a club devoted to ritual and display and serving the limitless vanity of its commanders.
    The war had changed that, at least for a while.
    What hadn’t changed, apparently, were the politically-connected contractors who gouged the government while delivering shoddy, late, or nonexistent work.
    That, he supposed, was the government’s business. What concerned