She eyed him intently. “You want to elaborate on that?”
Bergovoy absently stroked his beard. He did not look at all, she reflected, like Saint Nick. More like one of the red-suited fat man’s assistants: the one who did the dirty work in some dim, windowless basement of the toy workshop.
“It was cleverly done, but not so perfectly that someone who knows how to read maintenance records couldn’t spot the anomalies. Of course, you’d have to be looking for something like that or you’d just gloss over them. That’s what happened until I went digging for specifics. Certain details had been altered. Others—not many, but of significance—were missing altogether. It was a good job, but not perfect. Suggests that whoever was involved was knowledgeable, but no expert.”
She took a moment to scan their surroundings herself. Satisfied that they were not being watched, she looked back up at the chief mechanic. “It follows that whoever went to the trouble of manipulating official records might also have gone to the greater trouble of manipulating the related skimmer instrumentation.”
Bergovoy nodded solemnly. “Instrumentation, onboard equipment, explicit vehicular functions—that I wasn’t able to determine.” His expression darkened. “I pride myself on running a good shop here, even under Fluvan conditions. We service all Authority vehicles here as well as a goodly number of private craft. People depend on us, on the quality and reliability of our work.” Turning slightly, he gestured toward the rain-swept forest.