Diplomatic Immunity

“This panic may be premature,” Ve

And what were the top three complicated explanations in Ve

“Thorne could be asleep somewhere else.” Ve

“The portmaster stated explicitly that it was heading home to Nicol to rest, when it left the Kestrel about midnight,” said Miles. “A well-earned rest by that time, I might add. Your own guards should be able to confirm the exact time of Thorne's departure from my ship.”

“We will, of course, provide you with another liaison officer to assist you in your inquiries, Lord Vorkosigan.” Ve

“I don't want another. I want Thorne. You mislay too damned many downsiders around here. It's begi

Teris Three made a stemming motion at him with an upper hand, and interjected, “Speaking of that, the trace on that hot riveter came in a few hours ago.”

“Oh, good,” said Ve

“It was sold for cash three days back, from an engineering supply store near the free fall docks. Carried out, not delivered. The purchaser didn't fill out the warranty questio

“Quaddie or downsider?”

“He couldn't say. Could have been either, it seems.”

And if certain webbed hands had been covered with gloves as in the vid shot, they might well have been overlooked. Ve

The night supervisor glanced at Miles. “Lord Vorkosigan here also called, to request that we detain one of the passengers from the Rudra .”

“Find him yet?” asked Miles.

She shook her head.

“Why do you want him?” asked Ve

Miles repeated his own night's news about his interrogation of the medtechs and finding traces of Solian's synthesized blood in the Rudra 's infirmary.

“Well, that explains why we were having no luck at the station hospitals and clinics,” grumbled Ve

“I also flushed out one suspect, in the course of the conversation with the Rudra 's tech. All circumstantial speculation so far, but fast-penta is the drug to cure that.” Miles described the unusual Passenger Firka, his own insufficient but nagging sense of recognition, and his suspicions about the creative use of a floater. Ve

“But what about Bel ?” Nicol's voice was tight with suppressed anguish.

Ve

“Well, what's one more?” Teris Three shrugged. “I'll put out a call to all patrollers to start looking for Portmaster Thorne, too. As well as the fellow with the webs.”

Miles nibbled on his lower lip in worry. Sooner or later, that live cargo secreted aboard the Idris must draw the ba back to it. “Bel—Portmaster Thorne did get back to you people last night about resealing the Idris , did it not?”

“Yes,” said Ve

“Dubauer. Um, yes. They're fine for now. But, ah . . . I think I'd like to have you pick up Dubauer, as well as Firka.”

“Why?”

“It left its hostel and vanished yesterday evening close to the same time that Firka went out, and also hasn't returned. And Dubauer was the third of our little triumvirate of targets yesterday. Let's just call it protective custody, for starters.”

Ve

“Right.” She glanced at the chrono on her left lower wrist. “It's oh-seven-hundred.” Shift change, presumably. “Shall I stay?”

“No, no. I'll take over. Get the new missing-person traces started, then go get some rest.” Ve

The night supervisor gave him an acknowledging thumbs-up with both lower hands and slipped out of the little office chamber.

“Would you prefer to wait at home?” Ve

Nicol took a breath. “I would rather be here,” she said sturdily. “Just in case . . . just in case something happens soon.”

“I'll keep you company,” Miles volunteered. “For a little while, anyway.” There, let Ve

Ve

Miles and Nicol were left regarding each other in troubled silence. What Miles most wanted to know was if Bel had any other ImpSec business in train at present that might have impinged unexpectedly last night. But he was almost certain Nicol knew nothing of Bel's second source of income—and risk. Besides, that was wishful thinking. If any business had impinged, it was most probably the current mess. Which was now messy enough to raise every hackle Miles owned to quivering attention.

Bel had escaped its former career very nearly unscathed, despite Admiral Naismith's sometimes-lethal nimbus. For the Betan herm to have come all this way, to have come so close to regaining a private life and future, only to have its past reach out like some blind fate and swat it down now . . . Miles swallowed guilt and worry, and refrained from blurting some ill-timed and incoherent apology to Nicol. Something had certainly come upon Bel last night, but Bel was quick and clever and experienced; Bel could cope. Bel had always coped before.

But even the luck you made for yourself ran out sometimes. . . .

Nicol broke the stretched silence by asking some random question of Roic about Barrayar, and the armsman returned clumsy but kind small talk to distract her from her nerves. Miles glanced at his wrist com. Was it too early to call Ekaterin?

What the bloody hell was next on his agenda, anyway? He'd pla