My mother had been standing near the vestry door through all of it, silent, growing older by the minute, and now she stepped forward, and she surprised me more than anyone had all day.

“There are copies,” she said.

“Of everything.”

Commander Hayes turned sharply. “Say that again, Mrs. Bennett.”

“The original foundation archive,” she said, “the building where Harrison kept the paper records — I heard you say it burned this morning.

He’ll have arranged that; he always said the records were his insurance.