much reassured by the news that Lady Alys and Illyan had welcomed the refugee visitors diplomatically and without incident.
“Ah, Illyan, of course,” murmured the admiral, gathering up his coffee mug. “ That should cover everything.”
“Mm!” said Ivan brightly, and turned to his comconsole.
He was still sorting snakes when a call came in over his secured channel from ImpSec HQ, the stamp informed him. Ivan mustered a faint, practiced smile of welcome when Captain Raudsepp’s face materialized over the vid plate.
“Good, Captain Vorpatril.” Raudsepp returned the nod. “General Allegre thought you should know, your case seems to be warming up. About a day ago, ImpSec Komarr picked up a team of four individuals at the main orbital transfer station who proved to be freelance bounty hunters out of the Hegen Hub, looking to collect your wife and her companion and deliver them to a contact back in the Hub.”
Ivan lurched in his chair. That was…fast? Slow? Expected, unexpected…unfortunate? “Just Tej and Rish? Not the rest of the clan?”
“Apparently. The reward for the two women’s delivery to the Hub station was substantial. A reward for their delivery all the way to the Whole is even more substantial. The source of what the Jacksonians are pleased to call an arrest order is confirmed to be this Prestene syndicate that took over House Cordonah eight months ago.”
“That’s not a surprise, by now. Were these rental goons arriving or departing when Morozov’s people caught up with them?”
“Boarding ship for Vorbarr Sultana, in point of fact.”
“That’s…a bit late.”
Raudsepp shrugged. “They were quite professional. And, while we now have red flags on anything related to the new Cordonah consortium, their damned bounty system puts a natural break in any connection. Anyone at all- who is in the trade, that is-may pick up an advertisement of the bounty, and the first thing the Jacksonians who posted it, let alone us, may know of them is when they pop up on their doorstep ready to deliver and collect. Personal motives not required.”
“Crap,” said Ivan. “Then they could come out of the walls anywhere.”
Raudsepp nodded glumly. “The charge of conspiracy to kidnap a Barrayaran subject will hold this crew for the moment.” He added in a more reflective tone, “One does wonder what we will do with them if they accumulate. Some special holding pen for galactic human traffickers might have to be devised. Not that we aren’t happy to have them identified and pulled out of circulation, but…well, perhaps it’s premature to look so far ahead.”
Ivan pictured it. What the hell was the Barrayaran government supposed to do with dozens and dozens of bounty hunters? They’d make a slippery bunch to hold on to, too, as well as some of them being seriously crazy. Miles would know what to do with a sack of rabid weasels, but that might be a cure worse than the disease. And anyway, Miles wasn’t here. It was perhaps unworthy to think, Thank God.
“I suppose,” said Ivan slowly, “They’ll keep coming as long as this Prestene consortium is still out there offering the booty. And for a while after, as people fail to get the updates. Speaking of updates, is there any sign that the Arquas’ enemies have found out that the rest of them are now all here?”
“Not yet,” said Raudsepp. “But I shouldn’t think that it will improve the situation once they do. This could get expensive for my department.”
Ivan grimaced. “I suppose you fellows can think of it as a live training exercise.”
Raudsepp appeared unamused. “Do you have any idea yet how long your, ah, relatives-in-law are planning to stay?”
“Their initial emergency visa runs thirteen more days. I don’t know if they’ll succeed in getting an extension.”
“Hm.” Raudsepp frowned. “Were you able to discover if they have any further plans? Otherwise, I don’t see any impediment for them to take their family members and decamp promptly. Which would remove them from my work queue, at least.”
“One of them is married to a Barrayaran subject. That’s an impediment.”
Raudsepp waved this away. “I was told this marriage of yours was a temporary ploy. Not one that anyone takes seriously.”
I do. Did he? Did Tej…?
Raudsepp mused on, “One would think a notorious Vor womanizer would have a less drastic seduction technique.” Losing your touch? hung implied in Raudsepp’s eyebrow twitch.
Ivan wondered irately what pruney prole ImpSec analyst had him down in reports as a notorious Vor womanizer.
“In any case, did you learn any more about their intentions last night?” Raudsepp sat up, preparing to record Ivan’s snitch-report.
General Allegre had said-implied-that Galactic Affairs-Raudsepp had not formerly been in the need-to-know pool about Domestic-Affairs Byerly, in the interest of preserving By’s valuable cover. By’s valuable cover, in Ivan’s view, was beginning to resemble a lace fig leaf. He’d wanted to ask, But what if they try to shoot each other? Well, Byerly wouldn’t shoot the uniformed Raudsepp, probably. Accidentally.
So had that apprising taken place yet, and this a mere triangulation? Bloody ImpSec. Ivan fell back on: “Simon Illyan was there. The Spook’s Spook. Can’t you ask him?”
Raudsepp was taken aback. “Oh, of course.” A daunted look came over his face. “I should not like to bother him in his retirement. His medical retirement. But certainly, no one’s observations could be keener.” Doubt colored his voice. “Once…”
So, that’s what dithering looks like on Raudsepp. Under other circumstances, Ivan would have found it mildly entertaining.
“If Chief Illyan had spotted anything critical, he would certainly have reported it. Though maybe not on my level…”
Simon might have, at that. But to whom? So why aren’t I in that need-to-know loop? I bloody need to know! “Ask around,” Ivan suggested, shrugging. “Ah, excuse me. Admiral Desplains is paging me. Gotta go.”
Raudsepp, reluctantly, parted with him for now. That line about Desplains would have been a good lie for cutting himself loose, Ivan thought, if only it had been a lie. Wasted for now, but perhaps he could file it for future reference. He turned to hastily muster the requested files. Another, God spare Ops, interdepartmental meeting in forty minutes. Wormhole jump station Logistics versus Budget amp; Accounting with spreadsheets at twenty paces at dawn, aiming to kill unless someone-and Ivan knew just what someone would be expected to pitch in-could persuade them to delope. He rose to report to the inner office.
Tej and Rish arrived, yawning, at the Arqua hotel suite to find everyone else up betimes. Even, it appeared, Byerly, just exiting in tow of Jet, who had drafted him for a local guide. By spared Rish a grimace of a smile; she spared him a grimace of one back. Tej thought, Why don’t you two just kiss each other and get it over with? They so obviously wished to. But they exchanged greetings and farewells in nearly the same breaths, and parted at the lift tubes both looking back over their shoulders in dissatisfied ways.
Inside the suite-should she start thinking of it as House Cordonah HQ in Exile? — everyone seemed to be pursuing a different project at a different comconsole terminal, Star and Pearl at one, Pidge and Em at another, Dada at yet a third. Grandmama sat in the center and regarded it all benignly.
The Baronne greeted her directly with “Tej! Do I understand correctly that you can drive in Vorbarr Sultana?”
“Yes…?”
“Excellent. We will have work for you shortly. Don’t run off. Rish, Star needs you.”
Rish, with another grimace, went off to join the little subcommittee at Star’s terminal in the next room.
“But I don’t have a vehicle.” Ivan had taken his sporty groundcar to work, and besides, it would only hold one other Arqua at a time. Although that might not be a disadvantage.
“Then you can also take charge of obtaining rentals as needed. Good, I had been wondering what to do with you.”
As if Tej were a spare puzzle piece that didn’t fit in anywhere, perhaps accidentally included from another set. And here came another. Amiri wandered in with a coffee cup in his hand, looking vaguely at a loss, but he
