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Vorreedi's brows rose. "And do you consider yourself a genius, Lord
Vorkosigan?" he asked softly. Vorreedi's tone of voice made Miles's skin
crawl, it reminded him so much of his father's when Count Vorkosigan was
about to spring some major verbal trap.
"My intelligence evaluations are in my personnel file, sir."
"I've read it. That's why we're having this conversation." Vorreedi blinked,
slowly, like a lizard. "No rules at all?"
"Well, one rule, maybe. Deliver success or pay with your ass."
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"You have held your current post for almost three years, I see, Lieutenant
Vorkosigan. . . .Your ass is still intact, is it?"
"Last time I checked, sir." For the next five days, maybe.
"This suggests astonishing authority and autonomy."
"No authority at all. Just responsibility."
"Oh, dear." Vorreedi pursed his lips very thoughtfully indeed. "You have my
sympathy, Lord Vorkosigan."
"Thank you, sir. I need it." Into the all-too-meditative silence that followed
Miles added, "Do we know if Lord Yenaro survived the night?"
"He disappeared, so we think he has. He was last seen leaving the Moon
Garden Hall with a roll of carpet over his shoulder." Vorreedi cocked an
inquiring eye at Miles. "I have no explanation for the carpet."
Miles ignored the broad hint, responding instead with, "Are you so sure that
disappearance equates with his survival? What about his stalker?"
"Hm." Vorreedi smiled. "Shortly after we left him he was picked up by the
Cetagandan Civil Police, who still have him in close custody."
"They did this on their own?"
"Let's say they received an anonymous tip. It seemed the socially responsible
thing to do. But I must say, the Civils responded to it with admirable
efficiency. He appears to be of interest to them for some previous work."
"Did he have time to report in to his employers, before he was canned?"
"No."
So, Lord X was in an information vacuum this morning. He wouldn't like that
one bit. The misfire of yesterday's plot must make him frantically frustrated.
He wouldn't know what had gone wrong, or if Yenaro had realized his
intended fate, though Yenaro's disappearance and subsequent non-
communication would surely be a fat clue. Yenaro was now as loose a cannon
as Miles and Ivan. Which of them would be first on Lord X's hit list after this?
Would Yenaro go seeking protection to some authority, or would the rumor
of treason frighten him off?
And what method could Lord X come up with for disposing of the Barrayaran
envoys one-half so baroque and perfect as Yenaro had been? Yenaro was a
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masterpiece, as far as the art of assassination went, beautifully
choreographed in three movements and a crescendo. Now all that elaborate
effort was wasted. Lord X would be as livid at the spoiling of his lovely pattern
as at the failure of his plot, Miles swore. And he was an anxious impatient
artist who couldn't leave well enough alone, who had to add those clever little
touches. The kind of person who, as a child given his first garden, would dig
up the seeds to see if they'd sprouted yet. (Miles felt a tiny twinge of sympathy
for Lord X.) Yes, indeed, Lord X, playing for great stakes and losing both time
and his inhibitions, was now well and classically primed to make a major
mistake.
Why am I not so sure that's such a great idea?
"More to add, Lord Vorkosigan?" said Vorreedi.
"Hm? No. Just, uh, thinking." Besides, it would only upset you.
"I would request, as the embassy officer ultimately responsible for your
personal safety as an official envoy, that you and Lord Vorpatril end your
social contacts with a man who is apparently involved in a lethal Cetagandan
vendetta."
"Yenaro is of no further interest to me. I wish him no harm. My real priority
is in identifying the man who supplied him with that fountain."
Vorreedi's brows rose in mild reproach. "You might have said so earlier."
"Hindsight," said Miles, "is always better."
"That's for damned sure," sighed Vorreedi, in a voice of experience. He
scratched his nose, and sat back. "There is another reason I called you here
this morning, Lord Vorkosigan. Ghem-Colonel Benin has requested a second
interview with you."
"Has he? Same as before?" Miles kept his voice from squeaking.
"Not quite. He specifically requested to speak with both you and Lord
Vorpatril. In fact, he's on his way now. But you can refuse the interview if you
wish."
"No, that's . . . that's fine. In fact, I'd like to talk to Benin again. I, ah ... shall I
go fetch Ivan, then, sir?" Miles rose to his feet. Bad, bad idea to let the two
suspects consult before the interrogation, but then, this wasn't Vorreedi's
case. How fully had Miles convinced the man of his secret clout?
"Go ahead," said Vorreedi affably. "Though I must say . . ."
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Miles paused.
"I do not see how Lord Vorpatril fits into this. He's no courier officer. And his
records are as transparent as glass."
"A lot of people are baffled by Ivan, sir. But ... sometimes, even a genius needs
someone who can follow orders." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]