Cryoburn-ARC

by Lois M. Bujold

  For a long moment he feared she was going to clam up again, but after another cool look, she began, "Seiichiro came to us—to our political action council—with a secret he'd discovered through his work."

  "How many times did he visit you?"

  "Two or three."

  "Who all did he tell? Did he ever meet with all of you?"

  "George and Eiko and me, at first. There was one later meeting with all of us, when we planned the rally—George Suwabi and me, Seiichiro, Lee Kang, Rumi Khosla, and Eiko Tennoji."

  Those last names were all too familiar to Miles from his researches. "Let me guess. You decided to make a public announcement of the secret at the rally, where things went so wrong."

  Her gaze flicked up from her lap to go knife-narrow at him. "It wasn't our people who made the trouble. We were hit by a counter-rally—a collection of thugs from the N.H.L.L. They were supposed to have stayed at the other end of the park, that night. We couldn't afford to rent a hall, and neither could they."

  "Was it really the N.H.L.L., or could it have been a gang hired to impersonate them?"

  "It was really them—I recognized a couple of the fellows involved. Locals."

  "Mm, they might still have been employed for the task. Set upon you."

  Her head tilted in consideration and half-agreement. "The police broke up the fight. There seemed to be an awful lot of police for the size of the scuffle, and they arrived very quickly. As if they'd already been warned. I saw several people with bleeding heads, or pushed to the ground." The memory seemed distressing; to her, it was literally only yesterday, Miles was reminded. "That's not the kind of protest we ever were. I think the N.H.L.L. is like the other side of the coin, literally, from the cryocorps. The N.H.L.L. frets about the money they don't have, the cryocorps fret about money they do have, and neither one cares about anyone's lives but their own."

  A shrewd judgment, Miles thought. "May we come back to Dr. Leiber?" And his secret. "He does seem to have been the key man, in several senses."

  She regarded him and seemed to come to a decision. "I suppose if you are some sort of bizarre cryocorp spy, you already know. And know that I know." So what more is there to lose? hung unspoken.

  "For what it's worth, I already have a big pointer in the fact that Dr. Leiber researched preservation solution chemistry for NewEgypt Cryonics."

  She gave a gingerly half-nod. "What Seiichiro had discovered was that a certain formulation of cryo-preservative that was on the market a generation or so ago broke down chemically after a few decades. There must be thousands, maybe millions of people who were treated with it locked up in the corps freezers who are truly dead, not revivable. Meaning their votes are void and their assets due to be returned to their heirs. There must be billions of nuyen at stake from that alone. And that's without even getting to the vast legal costs, plus all the procedures that will have to be devised to figure out which patrons from that period are which."

  Miles blew out a soundless whistle, pieces of his puzzle slotting into place at light speed. Commodified contracts, indeed! Oh, he wanted an ImpSec meta-economics analyst to go with the forensic accountant from Escobar, and he wanted them now. With all the data-penetrating equipment they could carry, pre-keyed to the peculiarities of Kibou's planetary net.

  And he'd order them the moment he was back at the consulate. But for the next few days, he was stuck with his old original organic brain. A used model, at that, sadly battered by all the wear and tear.

  What he said out loud was, "Yeah, that would sure account for it all." Including, perhaps, poor Alice Chen, who'd been left by Leiber in Sato's place—as a decoy, or as a clue? Or as a time-bomb?

  "We thought this was a revelation that could truly jolt the cryocorps' hold on Kibou," said Lisa Sato. "Even break their grip." She stared around her cubicle, down at her lately-thawed hands. "I suppose we were right." Her brow furrowed. "Wait. You mean to say they've still kept this silent for the past year and a half? It wasn't a secret the corps could keep forever—as more and more bad revives turn up from that generation, disproportionately, people are bound to notice the pattern. That's part of why George wanted to strike quickly, for the maximum public impact. Why didn't . . . ​oh." She turned suddenly bleak eyes upon Miles, who flinched in anticipation of what was coming next. "What happened to the six of us? Why didn't anyone get the word out, after I was taken away? Were we all taken away?"

  "I am sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, Madame Sato, but that's what it looks like. Kang, Khosla, and you were all frozen under questionable diagnoses within a few days of the rally. George Suwabi supposedly crashed his lightflyer into a lake, and Madame Tennoji fell from her apartment house balcony to her death, after excessive drinking. Needless to say, I should think it most interesting to see someone from your police homicide bureau re-open those two cases. Er . . . did she drink to excess?"

  She frowned, even paler about the mouth than her revival had left her. "Well, yes. She was in a lot of pain from her joint deterioration. But she didn't fall off of things. Oh, no, poor George. . . ."

  "The odd man out in all this is Dr. Leiber. He simply went back to work for the past eighteen months."

  "That makes no sense."

  "Fortunately, I'm going to be able to ask him about it. When he wakes up."

  "Was he frozen, too?"

  "Ah, no. He had an encounter with a simple sedative this morning, according to my man Roic. Raven—Dr. Durona, that is—confirms. We've detained him here at Suze's while he sleeps it off. He was trying to leave the planet when Roic picked him up. Somebody else was trying to prevent him, I think. It's going to be an interesting interrogation." Miles hesitated. This was, after all, Jin and Mina's mother. Those two had to have inherited, or perhaps learned, some part of their admirable wits and determination from her. And you couldn't demand trust without giving some in return.

  "Would you like to sit in?"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Miles was itching to get to Leiber, but was diverted by Roic to consider his other captives. Thanks to one of Raven's potions, both now slept peacefully on the floor of an empty office—or possibly abandoned utility closet—adjoining the underground garage of the former patient intake building. Roic had spent the time constructively going through wallets, IDs, and the lift van.

  "This wasn't what you might call deep covert ops, here," Roic said, sorting out the wallets to demonstrate. "The van is registered to NewEgypt, and the scrubs they're wearing are company issue. They were carrying all their own identifications. Hans Witta and Okiya Cermak. Johannes did some back-checking. T' one is actually the senior officer for plant security, and t'other used to be a regular guard till eighteen months ago, when he got a big raise in pay and a promotion to personal assistant to his chief."

  "Interesting," murmured Miles.

  "Ayup. I'd say Dr. Leiber's kidnapping was something they put together in a hurry, out of resources they had to hand. If they'd nailed him at work, or anywhere on the NewEgypt properties, they wouldn't even have had to bother with that much. Thing is, now what do we do with 'em? We can't keep 'em sacked out on the floor forever. I mean, you got to let a man pee sometime. And their bosses have to know by now that something went wrong. Catch and release? I figured to set them back in their van not far from Leiber's hotel, and let them wake up on their own."

  "Hm. Have you and Johannes rendered the van unlocatable?"

  "Of course, m'lord," Roic said, his prim tone adding, I do my job.

  "But they did see you."

  "Unavoidable, I'm afraid. I don't think they saw Johannes, though."

  "Is kidnapping kidnappers still kidnapping?" Miles mused.

  "Yes," said Roic, unhelpfully.

  "Not that NewEgypt is likely to bring charges."

  "Naw, they'd do something else."

  "I am reminded. I could have Suze freeze and store them for us, I suppose. Technically."

  Roic gave him the Look.

  "If push came to shove. As a K
ibou-daini problem-solving technique, there seems to be precedent."

  Roic said nothing, firmly.

  "Ah, well," sighed Miles. "Lock the door and let them nap, for now. Onwards."

  Working around Madame Sato's bio-isolation proved only a brief challenge. Miles set up his interrogation chamber in the empty booth next to hers, and lent her Raven's wristcom to listen in. With his booth brightly lit, hers not, and the curtain mostly drawn on her side of the glass wall, it was as good as a one-way mirror as long as she didn't move around too much. She understood, if perhaps did not entirely approve, his plan to split the interrogation into two parts, the first with Leiber unaware of her presence, to see if the same story was extracted both ways. Miles wasn't sure when to spring her on Leiber for maximum utility. It would doubtless come to him.

  Leiber was still woozy when Raven and Roic guided him into the booth and sat him in a chair. Roic took a wall-propping pose against the door. With no bed, the booth wasn't exactly crowded even with the four of them, but its slightly claustrophobic air was more of a feature than a failing, in Miles's view.

  "You again!" Leiber said, staring at Miles.

  Raven, with a benevolent air, bent to press a hypospray against Leiber's arm.

  Leiber jerked. "Fast-penta?" he growled, looking helpless and angry.

  "Synergine," Raven soothed. "That headache should clear right up."

  Leiber rubbed his arm and scowled, but, after pressing a suspicious hand to his forehead, blinked in surprise and, in a moment more, belief.

  So, and when did you ever have fast-penta, that you can tell the difference? Miles added the question to his long list. Miles waved Raven to a chair against the wall, and took one himself at a not-too-looming distance from his subject. Although to loom properly, he supposed he'd have to stand on the chair, which just wouldn't have the same effect. Best to delegate that task to Roic.

  "So, Dr. Leiber. We might have saved steps by having this conversation day before yesterday, but I suppose your living room might have been monitored like your comconsole. Maybe it's just as well. Here, I can assure you, we are totally private." Miles smiled toothily. Imperial Auditor, threat or menace? You decide.

  Leiber's lips moved, My comconsole! "Dammit, I thought I'd taken care of that. So that's how you traced me?"

  "That's how the two gentlemen dressed in the medical kit traced you, I imagine. Armsman Roic, here"—Miles waved his hand; Roic nodded amiably—"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce you two properly earlier—Roic followed them. More or less. And took you away from them. Did you recognize them, by the way?"

  "Hans and Oki? Of course. The Gang of Four's pet muscle."

  "Highly paid, these coworkers of yours?"

  "Oh, yah." Leiber smiled sourly. "And great job security, too."

  "As good as yours?"

  "Not as far as I know. Lucky for them." Leiber squinted. "Took me away how?"

  "Stunner," said Roic.

  "That's illegal!"

  "No, actually, I have a local permit. Bodyguard, y'know."

  Official government bodyguard, in point of fact. Which was as close as Vorlynkin had been able to get to Armsman on the Prefecture's application form. Roic had acquired even odder designations in past ventures, true.

  "Who the hell are you people, anyway?" Leiber sat up indignantly; Roic tensed a trifle. "Did you steal Lisa from me?"

  "Her cryochamber is safe," said Miles, truthfully. It was still tucked away down the hall.

  "Not for long if NewEgypt's onto me!"

  "You're safe too, for the moment. We're holed up in an old decommissioned cryofacility on the south side of town, if you want to know. Out of sight, out of mind."

  "Not likely," muttered Leiber, subsiding.

  "How about this," said Miles. "I'll tell you what I know, and you tell me what I don't know."

  "Why should I?"

  "We'll come to that. To start with, I really was a Barrayaran delegate to the cryo-conference."

  "You're no doctor. Or academic." Leiber frowned. "Prospective patron?"

  Not if I can help it. "No, I'm an Imperial Auditor. A high-level investigator for my government. Among my several tasks here is to study the social and legal problems Kibou-daini faces as a result of its deep engagement with cryonics. I shall inevitably be tapped as an advisor to upgrading Barrayar's admittedly-archaic legal codes, to avoid repeating your mistakes, if we can." Granted, that wasn't his explicit task, but Gregor was bound to think of it sooner or later. Miles shuddered to foresee another few years of arm-wrestling subcommittees from the Councils of Counts and Ministers, just like his last gig about galactic reproductive and cloning technologies. On the bright side, he could go home every night; on the less bright, work would follow him there. . . . ​"The punishment for a job well done, as it were. But it didn't take long to figure out that the only troubles the conference seriously addressed were the technical ones."

  Raven waved agreement.

  Miles went on, "The rest was pretty much cryocorps sales pitches. So I went looking on my own."

  "For troubles? Well, you've found mine."

  "Indeed, and instructive they are."

  Leiber hunched, looking offended.

  "So far, I've discovered that Kibou's scheme of proxy votes for the frozen, originally devised on the assumption that people would be revived sooner and in greater numbers, has proved a fascinating demographic trap. Still thinking about that one. Also, that a certain brand of cryo-preservative from about a generation ago turned out not to be good for more than about thirty years, and that NewEgypt and presumably all the other corps are sitting on a financial time-bomb of unrevivable corpses, for which, sooner or later, someone is going to have to pony up. And NewEgypt has gone to great lengths to insure that the someone won't be them."

  Leiber went rigid. "How—!"

  He'd doubtless twig to how Miles knew in a bit; Miles had no intention of hurrying his thought processes. "I know that you figured this out, that you went to Lisa Sato's political action group for help, and that the result was a riot at their rally that ended with three of her people frozen and two murdered. Did you set them up at NewEgypt's behest?"

  "No!" cried Leiber indignantly. But then, deflating, "Not on purpose."

  "Betray them for money?"

  "No! The bribe came later, just to make it look that way."

  Miles hadn't even gone looking for evidence of bribes, yet. Ah, yes, deliver yourself into my hands, Doctor. You know you want to. "Then what did happen? In your own words."

  Leiber clasped his hands and stared at his feet for so long that Miles began to fancy fast-penta, with or without his subject's permission, but at last began, "It all started about two years ago. I was assigned the problem of figuring out the unusual number of bad revivals we were getting from that era. When I'd narrowed it down to the decomposing cryo-fluid, I went to my boss, who went to his bosses to report. I thought they'd do something about it, I mean, right away, but weeks went by and nothing happened."

  "Who were these bosses? Which men were told about this?"

  "The Gang of Four? There was my R & D supervisor, Roger Napak. And Ran Choi, the chief operating officer, and Anish Akabane, he's chief of finance, and Shirou Kim, the NewEgypt president. They clamped down and kept the information tight right away.

  "They promised me something was going to be done about the problem. I began to figure out they didn't mean the same problem I did when Akabane unveiled his commodified contracts scheme. They weren't trying to do anything about the bad preps, just about NewEgypt's financial liabilities! When I complained to Rog, he told me to pipe down or I'd be fired, and I pointed out that if I were fired, I'd have no reason to pipe down, and he went real quiet, and then he promised me he'd do something. By that time, I didn't trust their ideas about problem-solving one bit.

  "I'd been following Lisa Sato on the news for a year or two by then. She seemed to me one of the few people on Kibou who wasn't just arguing about the money. I mean
, moral arguments, you know?"

  Her detractors had certainly been arguing about the money, though, from the bits Miles had seen. The corps claimed her schemes would just set up a rival corp run by the government for the poor, for which everyone would pay. Illogically, they also claimed her scheme would damage their business, but if they weren't taking in those poor patrons anyway, Miles didn't see how they were losing anything. The N.H.L.L. just wanted to set fire to all the metabolically disadvantaged regardless of net worth. Though they certainly wanted to start with the rich, which suggested a certain shrewd efficiency in liberating their hypothesized legacy.

  "So I went to see Lisa Sato in person. I didn't even make an appointment over the comconsole, just went and knocked on her door one night. And she was everything I'd hoped she would be! I went again, and gave copies of all the data I had to her and George Suwabi, poor guy, and that's when they came up with the rally speech idea, to release it all at once in a way the corps couldn't quash. I thought it was all fixed.

  "A few days later, when I went into work, Rog called me in to his office, and suddenly I was being given a shot of fast-penta. They squeezed everything out of me." He hesitated. "Almost everything. Everything about the rally plan, and then they ran off in a hurry to do something about it. That's where Hans and Oki first got into it, I think—they did the legwork setting up the riot. I think Oki had a relative in the N.H.L.L., actually, which gave them their in."

  "Who all was present at this interrogation?"

  "All of them. The big four, I mean."

  "Was that legal or illegal here? The use of fast-penta on an employee, I mean?"

  "Kind of legal. I guess. I mean, they're allowed to use it in suspected cases of employee theft and crimes on the premises and so on. You have to sign a release when you're first employed."

  "I see."

  "There are rules about how it has to be conducted to make it admissible in court, later. But I don't think they were paying much attention to those in my case. Because the last thing they'd want is for any of this to get to a court. Because then they locked me up in Security's holding area."