Come morning, Veld felt marginally better and certainly more capable of thinking clearly. Calmer, with the turmoil of the day before tucked away to work through later. Or never, never would work. Had worked for over a decade, in fact.
Vincent was watching him, but Vincent was always watching him, so that, too, could be ignored. And better to, really - to acknowledge it was to give him room to comment, and even with kid gloves on the wound was too fresh to be touched. He just… couldn't. Not yet.
(Funny how these things happened, where being the good guy hurt just as bad or worse than being the bad guy and respect meant someone dear to him was doomed to die.)
It was a welcome distraction to get a call from Reeve. "What can I do for you?"
"I've started sorting through the President's files," Reeve said, not bothering with pleasantries, which was the first clue that he meant business. "And I've found some odd numbers and resource allocations that don't make sense. I was hoping you and yours might be able to shed a little light on the matter."
"Numbers is usually something for the Finance Department, but I'll take a look," Veld said. "It wouldn't be the first project that's been kept hush-hush."
"Yes, well, I think it's SOLDIER related, but with them in such disarray with a temporary director and Professor Rayleigh so busy trying to straighten things out with Science…" he trailed off. "I'm aware you're busy too, of course, but… perhaps a more stable busy?"
Veld laughed a little. Stable. Right. He wouldn't be jumping at more work if he was stable.
Or maybe he would, for Reeve. He felt like he owed the man a lot, after twisting his arm into taking this position in the first place. "I'd be happy to look for you, Reeve. Do you want me to come up?"
"When you're available for a bit, if you would? Or I can just send a summary of my findings. It may be something you place immediately, after all," he said. "You know more about ShinRa's inner workings than I do by far."
"Something you're going to have to change, over time," Veld said. "But I'll take a look. Drop me an email, if you like."
"Certainly, one moment. I've put most of it into a spreadsheet," Reeve said, voice growing distracted as he worked.
Veld headed back to his desk, shooing Vincent off his perch on the corner so he could settle in and get at the computer. He didn't bother trying to move him from his new post just behind Veld's chair; for once, it was comfortable to have someone literally at his back. So long as it was this someone.
The email chimed softly and he went to take a look at it. And frowned, because that made absolutely no sense.
It was indeed finances, but there was a chunk of money - money he'd assumed Rupert had been lining his pockets with - that was supposedly being funneled into SOLDIER. But he knew for a fact that SOLDIER didn't have those kinds of funds. That was easily double their budget, if not two thirds more than what he'd estimate they were actually allotted.
Why was that much money being tagged for SOLDIER, but never actually going into SOLDIER?
"Still with me, Veld?" Reeve asked.
"I am, I'm just… well. I can see why you were confused," he said.
"So it's not just me, then," he said. "Given my budget - well, City Planning's - I'm fairly aware of what you could do with that kind of money, and SOLDIER shows no sign of it."
"You could run a small city with that kind of money," Veld muttered, frowning. "Let me come up. I want to see those documents in person."
"Of course. I'll make sure I've gathered everything I can find," Reeve said. "See you soon."
"Would you like me to come with you?" Vincent asked, once he'd hung up.
"Might as well. The more heads on this the better." Because something wasn't right, and the more he thought about it, the less he liked it. This had Science Department written all over it; related to SOLDIER, and full of off-the-books shit that always, inevitably, he had to clean up and usually bit them in the ass, at least these days. After all this, he wasn't a real big believer in luck. (Being fair, he hadn't been in a very long time.)
It wasn't a long trip up to the President's Office, which was just as well. He didn't need the time to brood over something he didn't have answers for - and wouldn't, in the least until he got there and dug into Rupert's files first hand.
It was very clear Reeve had made himself at home, despite not wanting the position, at least in the fact that he looked ready and able to get down to business; there was a bit of a mess of papers, but on closer inspection it was clear that there was a method to the madness - everything was sorted and marked and ready to be moved along to whatever the next step happened to be.
The man himself looked up with a tight smile when he let himself in, inclining his head. "Thanks for coming, Veld."
"I'd say it's my pleasure, but I suspect I'm not going to enjoy this," Veld said dryly. He was treated to a sympathetic smile as Reeve rolled his chair back and gestured to an open folder. "This is it?"
"Everything I've got pertaining to our mystery money sink is here, yes," Reeve said, offering the folder.
Veld nodded, accepting it to page through with a frown. "Have you read all this, then?"
"Not all in detail, there's a few pieces I'd just put in there that need a good look," Reeve said. "I'm sure there's more to be found, but I've still got a lot to go through."
"Mm. There'll be more, but it might not be here," Veld said. "Whatever this is, I'm sure the roots run deep - and into Science's jurisdiction."
"Well… luckily you have Professor Rayleigh and not Professor Hojo to deal with?" Reeve said.
"Maybe. Rayleigh will certainly be more likely to be cooperative, but she's likely in the dark as well," Veld said, taking a seat to look through the file. Vincent moved behind him, peering over his shoulder.
"Do you know who sent the reports in?" Vincent asked. "Tracing it out to a project manager would help, at least."
"I'd thought about that." Reeve sighed, and the tone of it caught Veld's attention. "There's a note from Heidegger."
Veld was silent a long moment while tried to work that out. Not just that Heidegger had managed to keep a secret from him, but that Heidegger had been more trusted than he was.
Heidegger.
What the hell was going on?
"Well… it merits some looking into, then," Vincent said evenly, no doubt reading the situation in his pause, if not his expression.
"Yeah," Veld muttered, scooting the chair closer to Reeve's desk. "Borrowing the corner here."
"Take as much space as you need," Reeve said. "I just appreciate the help looking it over."
"Of course." Like he could leave it alone now. Beyond the principle of the thing, his gut said this wasn't something he could let sit. That this was something he needed to know, and maybe that was partially the want to procrastinate on dealing with current events, maybe it wasn't, but it was a valid point regardless.
Reeve nodded, with a smile that said he understood where at least part of his thought process had gone. The man had been raised in the company, and spent more than his fair share of time around Turks, he wasn't really surprised. There was a reason they were friends.
Enough stalling.
He set himself to looking through the folder, spreading things out as he finished them, sorting them in hopes that they'd make some sort of sense. Vincent leaned on the desk beside him, and periodically picked up a page that he wanted a closer look at, careful to put it back down precisely where Veld had put it before.
There wasn't much, but there was enough to know something was most definitely up. And enough to have a pretty good idea of how to find more information on it.
"I'm going to need to borrow that computer a moment, Reeve," Veld said.
"Oh? Certainly, anything you need," Reeve said, getting up and gesturing to his seat as well. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just sit tight a minute," Veld said, coming over and accepting the chair; this might take long enough he'd need it.
"May I ask what you're doing?" Reeve said after a moment.
It was a fair question, even if Veld wasn't inclined to answer it yet; computers weren't his thing, never had been. He didn't like them, didn't like how much easier it was to trick somebody with digital than it was hard copy. But they had their place, and hell if he'd let the world pass him by.
This might, of course, need a defter touch. He wasn't above reaching out for that, either; Maur had been trained as a literal detective, and had some more experience with this sort of thing. But honestly, he was fairly sure there was nothing on Rupert's computer that he couldn't dig through himself. The man had been an entrepreneurial genius, to be sure, but he was beyond arrogant and he'd grown… complacent.
Reeve had clearly already cracked the code to get into the computer itself, so it was only a matter of digging through his files, most notably the ones on the closed network that only ran between the company's computers. He'd always thought they were far too secure…
"…he wasn't always this disorganized, surely," Vincent murmured, yet again peering over his shoulder. "Or was this deliberate?"
"He wasn't that clever," Veld muttered, frowning as he scanned through his finances - the private notes, the ones that weren't published to the board that he'd always known had to exist, but had no real care to look into. Money meant power in ShinRa, especially in Rupert's eyes. Follow the money… "Aha!"
"Did you find something?" Reeve asked, coming over to look from his other side. He frowned, eyeing the document in question. "'SOLDIER DG'? What's the 'DG' for?"
"Was there ever a subdivision?" Vincent asked.
Veld frowned, feeling a prickle of unease. "…during the war, there was a medical subdivision called Deepground, to take care of wounded SOLDIERs - they needed special care, given their enhancements."
"Too expensive to just let them die in peace," Vincent murmured darkly.
"Probably," Veld admitted.
"But why would Deepground still be receiving funds? Especially now, and that much - SOLDIER's at the lowest level of membership that it's been since it started," Reeve said.
"All good questions," Veld said. "Let's find out."