"He has a winning personality," Miles says dryly. "Thanks, Bel. Let me know if you find anything."
He terminates that call too, then gets dressed and arms himself with such items as he will be allowed to carry past London shuttleport security. Which amounts to a boot knife and a couple of stunners, plus miscellaneous gadgetry with plausible non-criminal applications - scanners and the like. Over a quick breakfast, he orders a personnel shuttle made ready to depart at a moment's notice, then sits and jitters for lack of anything better to do.
A scant few minutes into his helpless stewing, his comconsole chimes again. The comm officer says he has a call coming in through the downside commercial net, from a man who refuses to identify himself but asserts that Miles wants to talk to him.
Shit.
"Trace it, cut a copy to Captain Thorne in Intelligence, and put it through."
"Yes, sir."
The comm officer's face is replaced by Ser Galen's.
"Vorkosigan."
Miles nods cautiously, studying him.
"I will not repeat myself. I don't give a damn if you're recording or tracing. It's irrelevant. You will meet me in exactly seventy minutes, at the Thames Tidal Barrier, halfway between Towers Six and Seven. You will walk out on the seaward side to the lower lookout. Alone. Then we'll talk. If any condition is not met, we will simply not be there when you arrive. And Ivan Vorpatril will die at 0207."
"You are two. I must be two," says Miles, mind racing. Ivan - what the hell's this bastard done with Ivan -
"Your bodyguard? Very well. Two."
The vid blanks before Miles can get another word out. He hisses inarticulately, then calls Bel.
no subject
He terminates that call too, then gets dressed and arms himself with such items as he will be allowed to carry past London shuttleport security. Which amounts to a boot knife and a couple of stunners, plus miscellaneous gadgetry with plausible non-criminal applications - scanners and the like. Over a quick breakfast, he orders a personnel shuttle made ready to depart at a moment's notice, then sits and jitters for lack of anything better to do.
A scant few minutes into his helpless stewing, his comconsole chimes again. The comm officer says he has a call coming in through the downside commercial net, from a man who refuses to identify himself but asserts that Miles wants to talk to him.
Shit.
"Trace it, cut a copy to Captain Thorne in Intelligence, and put it through."
"Yes, sir."
The comm officer's face is replaced by Ser Galen's.
"Vorkosigan."
Miles nods cautiously, studying him.
"I will not repeat myself. I don't give a damn if you're recording or tracing. It's irrelevant. You will meet me in exactly seventy minutes, at the Thames Tidal Barrier, halfway between Towers Six and Seven. You will walk out on the seaward side to the lower lookout. Alone. Then we'll talk. If any condition is not met, we will simply not be there when you arrive. And Ivan Vorpatril will die at 0207."
"You are two. I must be two," says Miles, mind racing. Ivan - what the hell's this bastard done with Ivan -
"Your bodyguard? Very well. Two."
The vid blanks before Miles can get another word out. He hisses inarticulately, then calls Bel.
"Did you get all that?"