“On your way out you may request the proper form for filing an official complaint.” She made a show of shuffling through the hard copy. “There are a lot of payments here to small groups and organizations that I am informed are active participants in the current troubles.”
As per prior instructions, one of the peaceforcers moved forward until he was standing close behind the Sakuntala senior. Very close. Threat by implication would be difficult to prove. Had a Church padre been present, he or she would have protested vociferously. But no United Church presence hovered over the little tableau that was being played out in her office.
Geladu-tiv struggled not to turn and meet the eyes of the very tall peaceforcer. “Poutukaa is a respected clan-based Sakuntala operation. It is no hotbed of radicals.”
“I believe you.” She indicated the hard copy. “However, Poutukaa is guilty of providing financing and support to factions that are.”
“To work profitably among Sakuntala is necessary to have good relations with all clans and groups. Sometimes payments necessary to buy not just goods but goodwill. That not a crime.” He hesitated, not entirely certain of the relevant bit of Commonwealth law. “Is it?”
“No, it’s not.” His relief was palpable. “Anyway, I’m not interested in your company’s political activities. That’s your business.”
Now the senior appeared genuinely bewildered. “Then why I here? What you want from me?”
She extracted one piece of hard copy from the pile and pushed it toward him. He glanced down at it without making a move to pick it up, as if it were a lurking bai-mou just waiting to leap at his throat.