Miles Errant - Lois McMaster Bujold [74]
Miles looked at Elli and sighed. "Nothing left to question, eh?"
She shrugged an insincere apology. "Oh—you're bleeding . . ." She closed on him fussily.
Damn. If there had been something left to question, Miles would have been in favor of shoveling it onto the shuttle and taking off, clearance or no clearance, to continue his investigation in the Triumph's sickbay unimpeded by the legal constraints that would doubtless delay the local authorities. The London constables could scarcely be more unhappy with him anyway. From the looks of things he'd be dealing with them again shortly. Fire equipment and shuttleport vehicles were converging on them even now.
Still, the London police employed some 60,000 individuals, an army much larger, if less heavily equipped, than his own. Maybe he could sic them on the Cetagandans, or whoever was behind this.
"Who were those guys?" asked the Dendarii guard, glancing in the direction the black aircar had gone.
"Never mind," said Miles. "They weren't here, you never saw 'em."
"Yes, sir."
He loved the Dendarii. They didn't argue with him. He submitted to Elli's first aid, and began mentally marshaling his story for the police. The police and he were doubtless going to be quite tired of each other before his visit to Earth was over.
Before the forensic lab team had even arrived on the tarmac, Miles turned to find Lise Vallerie at his elbow. He should have expected her. Since Lord Vorkosigan had exerted himself to repel her, Admiral Naismith now marshaled his charm, struggling to remember just which of his personas had told her what.
"Admiral Naismith. Trouble certainly seems to follow you!" she began.
"This did," he said affably, smiling up at her with what fragmented calm he could muster under the circumstances. The holovid man was off recording elsewhere on-site—she must be trying to set up something more than an off-the-cuff spot interview.
"Who were those men?"
"A very good question, now in the lap of the London police. My personal theory is that they were Cetagandan, seeking revenge for certain Dendarii operations, ah, not against them, but in support of one of their victims. But you had better not quote that. No proof. You could be sued for defamation or something."
"Not if it's a quote. You don't think they were Barrayarans?"
"Barrayarans! What do you know of Barrayar?" He let startlement segue into bemusement.
"I've been looking into your past." She smiled.
"By asking the Barrayarans? I trust you don't believe everything they say of me."
"I didn't. They think you were created by the Cetagandans. I've been looking for independent corroboration, from my own private sources. I found an immigrant who used to work in a cloning laboratory. His memory was somewhat lacking in detail, unfortunately. He had been forcibly debriefed at the time he was fired. What he could remember was appalling. The Dendarii Free Mercenary Fleet is officially registered out of Jackson's Whole, is it not?"
"A legal convenience only. We're not connected in any other way, if that's what you're asking. You've been doing some homework, eh?" Miles craned his neck. Over by a police groundcar, Elli Quinn was gesticulating vividly to an earnest constable captain.
"Of course," said Vallerie. "I'd like, with your cooperation, to do an in-depth feature on you. I think it would be extremely interesting to our viewers."
"Ah . . . The Dendarii do not seek publicity. Quite the reverse. It could endanger our operations and operatives."
"You personally, then. Nothing current. How you came to this. Who had you cloned, and why—I already know from whom. Your early memories. I understand you underwent accelerated growth and hypnotic training. What was it like? And so on."
"It was unpleasant," he said shortly. Her offered feature was a tempting notion indeed, apart from the fact that after Galeni had him skinned, Illyan would have him stuffed and mounted. And he rather liked