Cryoburn - Lois McMaster Bujold [108]
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