Bujold, Lois McMaster - Miles Vorkosigan 11 - Diplomatic Immunity by Lois Mcmaster Bujold

Author:Lois Mcmaster Bujold
Language: eng
Format: epub

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Where?” Miles asked.

“Number Two Freight Bay,” the spokes-quaddie answered. “He was trying to get Pramod Sixteen, here” - his nod indicated one of the husky quaddies holding an end of the pipe, who nodded back in confirmation - ”to take him out in a pod around the security zone to the galactic jumpship docks. So you can add attempted bribery of an airseal tech to violate regs to his list of charges, I'd say.”

Ah, ha. Another way to get around Bel's customs barriers... Miles's mind jumped back to the missing Solian.

“Pramod told him he was making arrangements, and slipped out and called me. I rounded up the boys, and we made sure he'd come along and explain himself to you.” The spokes-quaddie gestured to Chief Venn, who'd floated in hastily from the office corridor and was taking in the scene with unsurprised satisfaction.

The web-fingered downsider made a plaintive noise, beneath his electrical tape, but Miles took it more for protest than explanation.

Nicol put in urgently, “Did you see any sign of Bel?”

“Oh, hi, Nicol.” The spokes-quaddie shook his head in regret. “We asked the fellow, but we didn't get an answer. If you all don't have better luck with him, we have a few more ideas we can try.” His scowl suggested that these might run to the illicit utilization of airlocks, or perhaps innovative applications of freight-handling equipment definitely not covered in the manufacturer's warranties. “I bet we could make him stop screaming and start talking before his air ran out.”

“I think we can take it from here, thanks,” Chief Venn assured him. He glanced without favor at Firka, wriggling on his pole. “Although I'll keep your offer in mind.”

“Do you know Portmaster Thorne?” Miles asked the Docks and Locks quaddie. “Do you work together?”

“Bel's one of our best supervisors,” the quaddie replied. “About the most sensible downsider we've ever gotten. We don't care to lose it, eh?” He gave Nicol a nod.

She ducked her head in mute gratitude.

The citizens' arrest was duly recorded. The quaddie patrollers who'd assembled looked cautiously over the long, squirming captive, and elected to take him pole and all, for the moment. The Docks and Locks crew, with justifiable self-satisfaction, also presented the duffel bag Firka had been carrying.

So here was Miles's most wanted suspect, if not presented on a platter, at least en brochette. Miles itched to tear that tape off his rubbery face and start squeezing.

Sealer Greenlaw arrived while this was going forth, accompanied by a new quaddie man, dark-haired and fit-looking though not especially young. He wore neat, subdued garb much like that of Boss Watts and Bel, but black instead of slate blue. She introduced him as Adjudicator Leutwyn.

“So,” said Leutwyn, staring curiously at the tape-secured suspect. “This is our one-man crime wave. Do I understand he, too, came in with the Barrayaran fleet?”

“No, Adjudicator,” said Miles. “He joined the Rudra here on Graf Station, at the last minute. Actually, he didn't sign aboard until after the ship had originally been due to leave.

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