"Has it been tried on any humans?" asked Tanaka-san.
"Just one, so far," put in Raven-sensei.
"One trial?"
"One human. Lily Durona, as it happens," said Raven-sensei. "You can imagine how riveted the whole Group is by the outcome."
"Can you guarantee the results of this treatment?"
"Of course not," said Lord Mark. "That's why it's called a trial. But by the time we work through two or three thousand varied test cases, all the bugs should be ironed out."
"You'll never get permissions," said Suze-san.
"On the contrary. Escobar has reciprocal medical licensing arrangements with Kibou-daini. Any facility I might buy here would move under the Durona Group's regulatory umbrella from the instant the purchase was registered. No need to stir things up by reapplying for, ah, anything." Lord Mark rubbed his double chin. "If the trials worked out, the enterprise might become self-supporting in as little as two years."
"And after twenty years," said Tenbury, "what happens to people? Can they go around again?"
Lord Mark shrugged. "Ask me in two decades."
"Damn," said Suze-san. "This sounds like a license to print money, you know that, young man?"
Lord Mark made an impatient throw-away gesture. "A side-venture, from my point of view. It will be safer than the clone-brain transplant, to be sure, but the sort of octogenarian customer who would buy a body of an eighteen-year-old is hardly going to prefer a body of sixty. We have to do better, somehow. But this could be another small step in the right direction."
"Will it only work on revives? Frozen folk?" asked Tenbury.
"Oh, no. I expect it will work even better on the never-frozen."
Suze-san's wrinkled lips drew back in a fierce smile. "Who wouldn't choose it over a risky illegal brain transplant, hell. Who wouldn't choose it over freezing?"
"People are strange," said Lord Mark. "I make no predictions."
Medtech Tanaka said, "But what about the poor?"
Lord Mark gave her a blank look. "What about 'em?"
Their stares of mutual incomprehension lengthened. Miss Koudelka put in, "If I may offer an interpretation, Mark, I believe Madame Suzuki and her friends feel just as strongly about Kibou's poor being shut out of their chance at the future as you feel about the Jacksonian clones being shut out of their chance at a future. Or they wouldn't have been running this place as a protest for more years than you've been running the Durona group." She turned to Suze-san. "Mark, and Dr. Durona for that matter, were both raised on Jackson's Whole, where one must hustle constantly to survive, and there is seldom margin to think of others. They're both getting over it, slowly. I suggest we all take the chance to consider the wider aspects of this while we look around. Mark and I hoped to inspect the place before our first meeting with Mr. Fuwa."
Suze-san sat back, looking strange and stern. "And if not . . . ?"
Lord Mark shrugged. "Then we'll just have to meet with Fuwa without your input."
Suze-san's eyes narrowed. "Think you hold all the cards, do you?"
Miss Koudelka said, "It's hardly such a zero-sum game. A cooperative venture might yield major advantages to all, according to their varied needs."
"Yes," said Suze-san slowly, "I need to think." She sat forward and jammed the cork into the top of her square bottle with a hand that shook slightly. "Tenbury, take 'em around. Let them see whatever they like."
Tenbury nodded and pushed off the wall. "Follow me, then, folks . . ."
They all shuffled out after Tenbury, except for Suze-san and the old medtech, who bent their heads together before the door even shut. Out in the corridor, Jin edged close to Consul Vorlynkin, and whispered up to him, "What did they mean? I didn't understand any of that. Why was Suze-san mad?"
They trailed the group not quite out of earshot. Vorlynkin rubbed his knuckles across his lips, looked down at Jin, and lowered his voice. "If Lord Mark has the money, and I gather he does, he could buy this facility outright and there would be nothing Madame Suzuki could do about it. He could do—well, not anything, because he'd pick up liability for all those cryo-corpses downstairs, but in theory he could clear out all the live people here as trespassers and dump them back on the street."
"That's not right!" said Jin indignantly.
Miss Koudelka cast him a glance over her shoulder, and a funny smile. Jin blushed furiously.
"I'm not sure that's quite what he has in mind," murmured Vorlynkin, "but I guess we'll have to see."
Jin frowned, trying to sort it all out. "How come Miles-san is Lord Vorkosigan, and his brother is Lord Mark, if their last names are both Vorkosigan?"
"Both are the sons of Count Aral Vorkosigan. Your, er, friend Miles-san is Lord Vorkosigan because he is his father's heir. Lord Mark, as the younger brother, has a courtesy title with no direct political duties."
"Oh."
The consul had a very thoughtful look on his face as he followed Tenbury and the new Barrayarans. Jacksonians. Whatever. So if Lord Vorkosigan and Lord Mark were brothers, how come they'd been raised on different planets? Did all that creepy clone history have anything to do with them? And was that five-year-old boy, the one with all the confusing names his own parent couldn't remember, lord anything?
Jin thought of Miles-san's story about being allowed to sit in on his father's conferences, if he was quiet and useful, so shut his mouth and hurried to keep up.
Two hours later, Jin was yawning. He wondered if Miles-san had ever fallen asleep at any of those old meetings. Maybe his dad's business, whatever it was, had been more interesting than this. They'd trailed Tenbury-san all over: up and down and through parts of the facility even Jin had never seen. The talk was all boring grownup stuff about finances and drains and regulations. It never did get back to more strange stories about cloning and medical murders. Tenbury showed off his shop and tools and tricks, Lord Mark taking it all in expressionlessly, Miss Koudelka outright encouraging the custodian to drone on forever with way too many questions. Jin thought of abandoning them and going back to the recovery room to see if his mom and Mina were awake yet. He was getting hungry.
They were crossing the parking garage under the old patient intake building, when everyone's heads turned at the sound of pounding and muffled yells coming from a door marked No Admittance.
"Hadn't someone better let that person in? Or out?" asked Miss Koudelka.
"Out, and no," said Raven-sensei. "They're Lord Vorkosigan's prisoners. They must have woken up. I hadn't wanted to give them too much sedative, atop the fast-penta and the stunner hangovers."
Lord Mark held up his hands, palm out. "No affair of mine, then." He didn't sound surprised that his brother went around drugging and detaining people, but merely asked, "When is he thinking of removing them? I expect my deal to be moving rather quickly."
"Don't know." Raven-sensei shrugged. "They're his puzzle-pieces." As the pounding continued, he added, "All the same, I'll wait till Roic comes back to go in and settle them. They're a nasty pair."
Jin tilted his head and ventured nearer to the door. "Hey! That's old Yani's voice!"
"Who?" said Raven-sensei, and "Are you sure?" said Tenbury.
"Hey, Yani! Is that you in there?"
The pounding stopped. A quavery voice cried, "Jin? Is that you? Unlock the door and let me out!"
"Where are the two guys?" Jin yelled back.
"I heard someone thumping and carrying on and went to go look," Yani returned, muffled. "What call they got to go locking people up around here?"
Raven-sensei threw up his hands and clenched his teeth. "Oh, my Lord Auditor will not love this." He bent to the lock.
Lord Mark stood back, drawing a businesslike stunner from his black jacket. Miss Koudelka didn't get behind him, but rather, circled to cover another angle, hitching her shoulders and flexing her hands and suddenly looking very athletic.
A tense pause, and the door fell open.
Yani stumbled out, swearing. He looked r
umpled and wild, with a big bruise on his forehead and dried blood around his nose.
Raven-sensei peered within. "Crap. Gone!"
Chapter Seventeen
As Roic drove them into the underground garage, Miles flinched at the sight of the mob clustered around the open door of the office where they'd left their prisoners. His eye skipped to the empty space across the concrete where the captured NewEgypt van had been parked—and widened, when he spotted the sleek blond head bobbing above the dark ones. He didn't even need to look down to know who he'd see standing level with her shoulder.
"What t' hell?" said Roic, pulling to a halt. "What's Miss Kareen doing here?"
"Trailing my brother, no doubt. What I want to know is what the hell Mark is doing here."
They disembarked, and Miles shouldered swiftly through the gawkers to stare into the barren office. But even his best Auditorial glare couldn't make Hans and Oki magically reappear. Not that he wanted them, exactly . . . He turned to sort out Tenbury and Raven, Mark and Kareen, Consul Vorlynkin, Jin jittering at his elbow pouring out the escape tale in a rapid high voice, and battered old Yani, looking something between irate and contrite. But no worse, thank God, and by his complaints still oblivious to his close encounter with one of Kibou-daini's shadier death angels.
"How long ago did this happen?" Miles tried to cut to the essentials.
"Very soon after you left, at a guess," said Raven ruefully. "I'm afraid I under-medicated. Sorry . . ."
Miles waved a hand, in understanding if not absolution. "So they've been gone at least two hours, maybe almost three. Plenty of time to get home. Or somewhere."
A tactical tree began to sketch itself in his mind. If the pair had bugged out intending only to save themselves, they might be anywhere, but were unlikely to come back, and certainly not with reinforcements, the police and their own bosses being equally dangerous to them in such a flight. If they'd dutifully returned to NewEgypt . . . the possibilities grew more complex. I wonder if we passed them on the road? Too late . . . The two goons had gained a good look at Roic, might have glimpsed Raven, had not yet seen the memorable Miles, but Roic was pretty remarkable all on his own; and once he'd been identified, the trace back to Miles could be swift, if rather baffling from NewEgypt's point of view.
And NewEgypt now knew the location of Suze's facility, and they had to be pretty sure Leiber, their original target, had come here, though they couldn't be sure if he was still here. Had NewEgypt figured out yet that their employee—former employee, by now, no doubt—had absconded with Sato's cryo-corpse? And if so, would they imagine she'd been revived already, or would they still picture Leiber carting her about in a cryochamber like some especially awkward souvenir? Could they track back to whatever security vids they maintained from the day Miles and his strike force had liberated her unfortunate substitute Chen? And what would they make of it if they did? And . . . "Damn," Miles muttered. "I have to talk to that idiot Leiber again." If he was to second-guess their thinking, he wanted more details on those key NewEgypt execs. He sighed and raised his voice. "And hello, Mark. Why are you here? And so unexpectedly, too."
Mark tilted his head in un-apology, smirking a bit.
Miles eyed Raven. "I thought we'd had an understanding about such surprises."
Looking faintly guilty, Raven shrugged and mumbled, "Earlier ship."
Miles abandoned the unfruitful point. "Hi, Kareen."
She glinted back at him, reassuring in a way. Sort of. "Hi, Miles. How's it going?"
"Not as well as I thought, evidently." He peered one last time into the drab little office—still empty—and turned away. Tenbury, bless him, was soothing Yani and ushering him off to visit Medtech Tanaka.
A penetrating yowl rose from the back of the consulate van. "Aowt! Aowt!"
Vorlynkin's brows rose. "Have you kidnapped someone else?" His tone seemed more resigned than disapproving. Miles thought of those tales about water wearing away stone; the consul's edges were growing more rounded, at least.
"Not this time. Jin, Armsman Roic has a present for you. Live cargo."
"Really?" Jin was instantly diverted; Miles jerked his head at Roic, who led the boy out of earshot to meet his new pet. Good with kids, Wing's secretary had promised.
And you trust those people, why? Kareen, curious, followed Roic.
Miles lowered his voice to Vorlynkin and Raven. "Raven, how soon could Madame Sato be moved out of medical isolation?"
"To the consulate?" said Vorlynkin.
Miles nodded. "If secrecy, which was our first defense, has failed, then the consulate would be a better location for fending off legal attacks. Granted it hasn't much advantage for illegal, physical attacks. I have some help on the way for that, but they're not here yet."
Raven's lips pressed together in medical reluctance. "Tomorrow? Not that her bio-isolation isn't compromised already, with those kids in and out. Little vectors that they are."
"Well, load her up with every immune system booster in your arsenal—"
"I already have."
Miles made a thumbs-up gesture. "Then plan to decamp as early as possible tomorrow. In fact, Vorlynkin, if you could stay here tonight, and be ready to move her and her kids out at a moment's notice, that might be, um, prudent." He added reluctantly, "Leiber, too."
"Do you think NewEgypt will react that quickly?" asked Vorlynkin.
"I truly do not know. My impression of all these cryocorp chiefs so far is that they'd rather hunker down behind a wall of lawyers than, say, hire mercs, but this crew has already shown it can move fast at need. And, despite the lethal screw-ups, their actions eighteen months ago must have seemed successful at the time. I wish them a distraught and sleepless night figuring it all out, anyway."
Vorlynkin frowned, taking this in.
Miles turned to his clone-brother. "And you?"
"Kareen and I jumped over from Escobar to look into a real estate deal Raven spotted," said Mark, unperturbed by the foregoing. "The short version is, Madame Suze's set-up could be the perfect venue for large-scale human trials of the Durona Group's latest life-extension treatment. If so, I mean to buy the place from the unhappy current owner-of-record, this fellow Fuwa—lock, stock, and liabilities." Mark jerked a thumb downward to indicate the frozen sleepers stacked in the hidden corridors below. "I'd take it as a personal favor, Lord Auditor Brother, if you don't mess up my Deal."
Miles's lips twitched. "Happily, Vor views on nepotism remain culturally generous, even in what our late grandfather would have called this degenerate age. But don't mess up my case."
"Haven't the least interest in your case, thanks. Which is what, by the way?"
"Raven didn't apprise you?"
"No, he's been virtuously closed-mouthed."
Well, no one could say that a Durona didn't earn his or her pay. "It all started with an attempt by a Kibou cryonics company called WhiteChrys to expand onto Komarr."
"That smells."
"Oh, you've heard of it?"
"Not before now. But at a glance, there's a physical, financial, and cultural distance that doesn't explain itself." Mark's lips curved slightly. "And then there's you, popping up in the middle of it. Always a tip-off."
"Mm," said Miles. "Well, the WhiteChrys part is a train that has left its station, and can run on rails to its appointed end. So far. This NewEgypt involvement is a side-issue that grew complicated." His jaw set. "I'm trying not to leave undue collateral damage upon a local kid who befriended me, at some cost to himself. Good intentions, Mark. My path is paved with them."
"So glad I don't have any of those." Mark's glance grew uncomfortably shrewd. "It's not your planet, you know. You can't fix it."
"No, but . . . well, no. But."
"Well, try not to leave too much rubble in your wake. I can use this place."
"So you said." Miles hesitated. "Life extension, you say. Does this one look better that the last two Durona developments you were so excited about? That, excuse the expr
ession, died on the lab benches?"
"Maybe. The one human trial looks hopeful so far. Lily Durona, if you were wondering."
It was Miles's turn to raise his brows. "All right, I'm officially impressed, if Lily was willing to try it on herself."
Mark's smile went a little flat. "Lily," he said, "ran out of time to wait."
Miles drummed his fingers on his trouser seam. "Has it been tried on an older male, yet? Speaking of running out of time."
Miles and his clone-brother exchanged very similar looks.
Mark said, "Do you think he could even be persuaded to try it?"
"Mm, not by me, perhaps. Our mother might give it a go. Betan, you know, anything for science."
"That's one more reason I'm anxious to move these human trials along."
"You might actually be more successful at persuading him if it were still billed as dodgy. Hit those old Vor service-to-the-Imperium reflexes, and all."
"That's so strange."
Miles shrugged. "That's the Count-our-father." He added, "So, if your deal goes through, would you and Kareen be spending much time on Kibou?"
Mark shook his head. "Once it's set up and running, I figure to turn it over to Raven to develop. Past time he was promoted. So far, this is not the knock-out competition to the clone-brain transplant business I was hoping for, but it's early days yet." Mark smiled slowly. "On the other hand, if it proved sufficiently profitable, maybe I could hire my own space mercs and attack the Jacksonian cloning lords directly."
Miles grimaced. "Do you remember the last time you tried that?"
"Vividly. Don't you?"
"Patchily," said Miles dryly.
Mark winced.
"In the event, though I've no doubt Admiral Quinn could do the job, I would beg you to hire a different outfit." Just in case this wasn't quite a joke. With Mark, on this subject, it could be hard to tell. "What are you two doing next? Do you have a hotel?"
"No, we came straight from the shuttleport. Next, we've made arrangements to meet Fuwa here."
"Isn't that after local business hours?"