Vorlynkin smiled and offered Madame Sato his other hand up, which, after her first wobbling attempt to rise, she realized she needed, and took. He was tall enough that she actually had to look up-she'd been eye-to-eye with Leiber.

"Stefin Vorlynkin, Madame Sato. I'm the Barrayaran Consul to Kibou-daini. I'm very pleased to meet you at last."

She made an abortive motion for her daughter to stop using the consul as a swing-set, but Mina had already abandoned the hand and was running around the pair in excited circles. Jin hopped up and down in a burst of explanations, most of which seemed to turn on the continued health and well-being of his creatures, with special reference to Lucky.

"You've been looking after my children?" she said uncertainly.

"Only for the past few days, ma'am. You have a couple of really good kids, there. Very bright."

Miles thought a flicker of a smile might have turned her mouth, under the mask. It was certainly the first time he'd seen her dark eyes crinkle with pleasure.

Raven intervened at this point to run his still-new revive back to her bed, but he indulgently allowed the family reunion to go along. Miles watched through the glass, the children waving their arms and explaining their lives for the last eighteen months, Madame Sato looking dismayed as she struggled to keep up.

Vorlynkin came to watch over his shoulder. "So glad to see her awake and cognizant. It solves several legal conundrums for me. Now I can actually protect those kids."

"Just so." Miles smiled.

Roic collected Raven and padded off about their next task. Leiber, looking confused, waved inarticulately through the glass at the Sato family and said, "But now what do I do?"

Miles turned to him, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. "Well, you're certainly not a prisoner. The only people on this planet I have the legal authority to actually arrest are other Barrayarans."

"Uh, but what about Hans and Oki?"

"I didn't arrest them, I kidnapped them. According to Roic. I see I shall have to explain to you the difference between permission and forgiveness, sometime."

"And what is the difference?" inquired Vorlynkin, brows rising.

"Success, usually. In any case, Dr. Leiber, you are free to leave at any time. I just don't recommend it, not unless you have a better plan for hiding out than your last one. Presuming Hans and Oki are not your bosses' only resource for legwork."

"No, they're not," sighed Leiber.

"You are also free to stay. Camping here overnight would make a better hiding place than any commercial venue, to be sure. We could all use a little time to digest all this, I suspect. Although I'd also suggest you re-think any attempt to make your orbital shuttle tomorrow afternoon. You'd certainly not make it past the shuttleport."

"No," Leiber agreed unhappily. "Not now."

"And what are you going to do next, my Lord Auditor?" asked Vorlynkin.

Miles rubbed his jaw and scowled in thought. "What any commander does when he's outnumbered, I suppose. Look for allies."

Chapter Sixteen

Roic's interrogations of their inadvertent prisoners ran as smoothly as Miles expected, though Hans and Oki's anxious self-justifications leaked through even their slap-happy fast-penta hazes. As Leiber had guessed, the two deaths had been more the result of clumsiness than malice, although the verbal picture of the pair of goons chasing the frightened old lady Tennoji around her apartment and over her balcony was sickening enough. Their attempt to force down George Suwabi's lightflyer might actually have worked, if he'd crash landed on dry ground instead of deep water. They could have pulled him out of the safety cage and whisked him off to the freezer openly feigning a quick-thinking rescue of an otherwise fatally injured man. As it was, his drowned corpse had been fished from the waters far too late for even Kibou-daini's medics to help.

Whether the strict legal definition of their acts was murder or just manslaughter, Miles was still left with the dilemma of how, now, to be rid of his unwanted guests. Catch and release was off the table. They, and their confessions, needed to be turned over to a local police authority, but not one that could be bought by their NewEgypt bosses. Not that it would play out that way, Miles guessed. Roped together by their shared guilt, Hans and Oki would be instant sacrifices, and their bosses would purchase their own freedom through a screen of expensive lawyers. Yet Miles wanted to bring down the whole NewEgypt crew, if he could.

The meticulous Roic did get to escort his captives, individually, to the loo, and give them water. For the moment, Miles had Raven put them back into a light medicated doze, although that wasn't going to be a long-term answer either. Freezing was looking better all the time. Miles damn well wasn't packing that pair home with him. Barrayar isn't suffering a goon shortage, and anyway, ours are more competent. On the bright side, the Gang of Four must be thoroughly alarmed by now at the disappearance of their minions and Leiber, hours after they should have reported in. Yeah, it might be time to start rattling a few chains.

The recordings dispatched to the consulate, Miles was at last clear to tackle WhiteChrys, where all this had started what was beginning to seem a rather long time ago. Happily, he had no trouble bulling through to an immediate appointment with Ron Wing. Miles spent the drive out to the west end mentally rehearsing his role, so as not to crack his cover while still accomplishing his aim.

They were met in Wing's outer office by a smiling executive secretary, who rose to greet them. Also rising from a comfortable-looking chair in the corner, though with a yawn not a smile, was a startling catlike creature, with the tawny body of a miniature lion and wings not unlike Gyre's, but a disturbingly human-looking face. A colorful little striped head-cloth in the style of Egyptian statuary was tied under its feminine chin. It trotted to Roic, who froze, appalled, as it wound around his legs. It butted his knees-it must have weighed ten kilos-looked up, and opened its mouth not to say, What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs at night? but a mere breathy half-meow.

"Stop that, Nefertiti," scolded the secretary, and hoisted the beast to deposit it on her desk. The creature switched its tufted tail and looked offended.

Miles held out a hand for it to sniff as the secretary went on, "It's all right, she doesn't bite or scratch. She does shed, though." She added in cheerful explanation to the still stunned-looking Roic, "They were this year's promotional give-away by our competitor and neighbor, NewEgypt."

"I didn't see them at the conference," said Miles.

"Oh, they all went the first day. Very popular. They come fitted with a vocabulary of over a dozen words, and are supposed to be great with children. And good for home security." That last was delivered in a less confident tone.

"Where, um, did they have them made?" Miles inquired.

"Some bioengineering company on Jackson's Whole, I understood," she said.

Of course.

"They were shipped frozen, and NewEgypt was able to save money by reviving them in their own labs. But they prove rather tricky to maintain. Very finicky eaters."

"Cat genes…?mostly?" said Miles.

She looked rather doubtfully at the mini-sphinx, who stared back sphinxlike. "I would think so. Wouldn't you? I'll tell Mr. Wing you are here, Lord Vorkosigan."

Wing bustled out promptly to greet his self-invited guests. Leaving Roic in the outer office to chat up the secretary, and perhaps exchange riddles with the sphinx, Miles allowed himself to be ushered into Wing's inner sanctum by the man himself and settled in a comfy and elegant gel-padded visitor's chair. Nice corner suite, windows on two sides overlooking the buildings and serene gardens of the complex; Miles was weirdly reminded of Suze's lair.