"Thank you." Cortin took them, going to the desk and seating herself, then opening the first one—but her mind was on the additions to her ID. She took out the folder again, staring at the badge and the Special Operations stamp. "What's going on?" she asked Illyanov in a low voice. "Why do I get a badge while I'm still in training, and why sneak it all in on me like this?"
Illyanov thought for several moments, frowning. At last, keeping his voice as low as hers had been, he said, "Unless you wish to attribute it to Colonel Bradford's well-known and decidely peculiar sense of humor, which I consider likely, I do not know. The speed can perhaps be explained if he has information not generally available about an upcoming raid, though I would have expected that as your instructor I would have been informed when you were granted a Warrant—out of courtesy, if nothing else—but I can think of no logical reason for him not to inform you."
"Neither can I, so I guess you're right about it being his sense of humor." Cortin put the ID away and began studying the prisoner records. They seemed to be arranged in reverse order of capture, which made sense; the ones deemed to have critical information had already been removed, so the ones on top would be the ones who had been here longest, already softened up by the first stages of interrogation.
When she opened the last folder, she bit back a curse, then, at Illyanov's startled glance, said, "I think I just found out why the badge." She turned the folder so he could read it easily. The subject was a deserter, who had compounded his crime by joining the Brotherhood, but was so new to it that he was believed to have no significant information. "Bradford's making sure I don't do what this plaguer did. I told you he was reading more than I wanted to tell him—he had to know I'd never join the Brotherhood, but he also had to know I'd go after them, either legally or as a rogue. And that I'd much rather do it legally."
Illyanov nodded. "I read the same things, of course. I did not, however, realize that his desire to keep you in Enforcement was great enough he would have all practical training waived—even for one who had made perfect scores in all the theoretical material."
"You didn't tell me that!"
"I did not wish to make you over-confident. That, however, is no longer a consideration; if you are to function independently, with little or no notice and limited practical experience, you should be as certain as possible of your ability to do so." He smiled. "As I did tell you, you were most promising. Motivation and hard work have let you live up to that promise so far; I see no reason to doubt that you will continue to do so. But now, Inquisitor-Captain Cortin, you have an interrogation to conduct." He gestured at the folders. "Logic will tell you to choose one who has been through preliminary questioning, and your emotions will tell you to choose the rogue-turned-Brother. However, you have been an Enforcement officer long enough to have learned to trust certain feelings; do any of them indicate which of these will give you the most useful information?"
Cortin moved her hands across the folders as if she could get her information that way, wishing she really could. She had learned to trust her hunches—they had kept her alive more than once—but she was less certain of them in these circumstances. Finally, she picked two she thought ought to have more information than their records suggested: a thief suspected of exercising his skills for the Brotherhood and, though she admitted to herself it might be as much because of his betrayal of the Service as for any information, the rogue trooper. The thief had been through the preliminary stages; the rogue hadn't, formally, but the Special Ops men who had captured him had—justifiably, she thought—taken out some of their anger on him, so he'd been through a crude form of second stage as well.
"These two, I think," she said, handing Illyanov the folders. "The thief first; procedures on the renegade weren't exactly by the book, so I'd like to have a little experience before I start on him."
Illyanov nodded, gathering up the remaining folders. Cortin followed him back to the counter, glad that since he was the ranking officer, he'd be the one to give the orders; she didn't yet know what orders to give!