“Where did you pick up that boy, my lord?” said Vorlynkin.
“Actually, he found me. On the street, more or less.” Miles did some rapid internal editing. He had, after all, given Suze his tacit word not to reveal her lair in exchange for information, and he had certainly received information, even if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it yet. “You read my note to you, right?”
Vorlynkin nodded.
“Well, as I said, the drug the kidnappers tried to sedate me with triggered manic hallucinations instead, and I ended up lost in the Cryocombs.” No need to say for how long; the situation was certainly elastic enough to cover the missing day he’d spent with Jin and company. “When I came to my senses and found my way out, I was still a bit paranoid about my kidnappers finding me again, and too exhausted to go on. Jin kindly helped me, and I owe him.”
Vorlynkin stared at Miles very hard. “Are you saying you weren’t in your right mind?”
“That might actually be a good explanation, should one be needed. Does this consulate keep a local lawyer?”
“On retainer, yes.”
Standard practice. Can you trust him or her to keep our secrets? was a question Miles wasn’t ready to ask out loud quite yet. “Good. As soon as possible, contact the lawyer and find out what we can do to get Jin back.” He held out his mug for more tea; Yuuichi, the clerk, politely filled it. Miles’s hand was shaking with fatigue, but he managed not to spill tea on the way to his lips. “Shower’s as good as three hours of sleep. Shower first, and then the comconsole, if you please.”
“Shouldn’t you rest, my lord?” said Vorlynkin.
Miles choked back an impulse to scream, Don’t argue with me! which was a pretty good indicator that, yes, he damn well should rest, but there were a few key things that he had to know, first. “Later,” he said, then conceded, “Soon.”
After a moment, he added reluctantly, “You’d better let the Northbridge police know I escaped, was lost in the Cryocombs, and came back to the consulate on my own—I don’t want them to waste their resources hunting me. You can tell them I’m uninjured but extremely fatigued, and am resting here. They can send someone to take a statement from me tomorrow, if they need one. Don’t mention Jin unless they ask. If anyone else inquires after me… check with me.”
This won another hard stare from Vorlynkin, but he only nodded.
Johannes led Miles upstairs to the sleeping quarters—it appeared that the two Barrayaran bachelors saved on rent by living on the premises—and the consulate personnel scored about a million points with Miles by providing his very own clothes and gear, retrieved along with Roic’s from their hotel room after the kidnappings. Johannes eyed the Auditor’s own secured communications equipment—ImpSec’s best—with due respect, when handing it over. The personal belongings the kidnappers had stripped from Miles were still in the hands of the police, found discarded in a downtown alley and retained as evidence, except for his Auditor’s seal, which Vorlynkin had managed to pry back from them with, Miles gathered, some vigorous diplomatic persuasion.
Half an hour later—washed, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes—Miles had Johannes lead him down to the consulate’s basement communications tight-room, such as it was, and settle him before a secured comconsole. Miles stretched his back and spread his fingers, then entered his first search term: Lisa Sato.
“Who’s that?” asked Johannes, looming over his shoulder.
“Jin Sato’s mother.”
“Is she important?”
“Someone thought so, Lieutenant. Someone definitely thought so.” As the vid plate flickered, Miles bent to the data stream.
Chapter Six
A brief conversation with m’lord over the comconsole at Northbridge police headquarters, once the rescued delegates arrived there, relieved Roic of his worst nightmare, that of losing the little gi—m’lord. New curiosities thronged to take its place. Why was m’lord insisting that Roic bring Dr. Durona along?
“Actually, I’d planned to return to the conference hotel and collect my luggage,” Raven interpolated, leaning into the vid pick-up.
“See me first,” m’lord replied.
“I’ll miss my jumpship.”
“There’s one every day. In fact, don’t reschedule your berth yet.”
Raven’s black brows flicked up. “My time is money.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Raven shrugged amiably at m’lord’s very dry tone, and followed Roic, both scuffing along in the paper slippers their hosts had provided while waiting for their stolen shoes to surface.
It was midafternoon when the police at last dropped Roic and his bemused companion off at the consulate. The four-square house seemed unduly modest, in Roic’s view, though he supposed that upholding the dignity of the Imperium at this distance was costly enough. It did look as though it might provide a shower and a place to nap, Roic’s two biggest remaining wants since the police had provided the freed captives with a meal, or at least as many ration bars as anyone would want to eat. High in protein and vitamins, tasting like chocolate-coated putty with kitty litter—some horrors were universal, it seemed.
Roic stifled his wish for a wash-up and had Lieutenant Johannes guide them directly to m’lord, already ensconced like an invasive spider in the consulate’s communications tight-room. In most planetary embassies that Roic had visited in m’lord’s wake, the tight-room seemed the secret nerve center of the embassy’s affairs, hushed and urgent. Here, it felt more like someone’s leftover basement hobby room—for some very odd hobbies—retrofitted in high tech.
M’lord swiveled in his station chair and waved Roic and Raven to seats, dismissing Johannes with a “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Johannes, looking as though he longed to stay and eavesdrop, nodded and dutifully withdrew, closing the door with that muffled thump that betokened a good sound seal. Roic ignored the faint serial-killer ambiance of the windowless chamber, and tried to appreciate that here at last one might enjoy a truly private conversation.
“Are you two all right?” A perfunctory inquiry; m’lord didn’t even wait for Raven’s nod and Roic’s grunt before continuing, “Tell me everything that happened to you. And yes, I want all the details.”
M’lord listened, brows tightening, as the full tale of the kidnapping and rescue unwound, rewarding the tellers at the end with a mere, “Huh.” He added to Raven, “I’m glad you’re all right. I shouldn’t have liked to explain your loss to your clone-siblings, or mine. I’d actually thought the Durona Group would send your sister Rowan.”
“No, she’s much too busy these days for off-planet jaunts,” said Raven. “She’s our department head for Cryonics—we have over five hundred employees, between our clinical services, research, and administrative overhead. And she and that Escobaran medtech she married plan to pop their second kid from the uterine replicator any day now.”
“Not cloned, eh?”
“No, it was all done the old-fashioned way, an egg and a sperm in a test tube. They didn’t even go for any genetic mods, beyond the routine check for defects, of course.”
“Of course,” murmured m’lord, without comment. “So good old Lily Durona is a real grandmother, now—or aunt, depending on how you look at it. She continues in good health for her age, I trust?”
“Very much so.”
“Interesting.”
Raven tugged absently on his frazzled braid, laid over his shoulder, and continued, “As a department head, Rowan says she misses the hands-on surgical work. She hardly gets to do two revivals a week, these days. I do two to six a day, depending on complications. Nothing as complicated as you were—you took Rowan, me, and two shifts of medtechs eighteen hours straight, back in the day.”
“You did good work.”
“Thank you.” Raven nodded in what seemed to Roic rather smug satisfaction.