Johannes's breathless voice sounded from his side, not his wristcom.  "What the hell is going on?"  When Roic had said Watch my back, he hadn't meant from this close, but he couldn't fault the lieutenant for curiosity.  Johannes's eyes widened, peering into the shadows.

Roic tucked his stunner away in its shoulder holster.  "We just rescued Dr. Leiber.  I'm not sure if he'll see it that way, though."  He climbed into the cargo area, first checking both his victims for health.  Stunner fire was by no means safe; it could trigger all sort of problems in people with underlying medical issues.  Happily, these two seemed extremely fit.  Having assured himself of their continued cooperation by the simple means of a light repeat stun to the base of each neck, he arranged them more tidily.  He then turned to Leiber.

Roic was not called upon after all to trot out his encouraging We've saved you, be grateful, I'm taking you to a place of refuge speech, in which he had no faith; Leiber had lost consciousness.  Roic hoped to hell it had just been a hypospray of knockout drugs, and not some deadly poison.  Even if some bloody and secret murder was planned, if he were Leiber's enemy he'd sure want him alive to question under fast-penta first.  Actually, Roic wanted to question Leiber under fast-penta on his own behalf.  That decision would be up to m'lord, though.

Leiber's breathing continued evenly, and his skin did not turn any alarming colors.  All right so far.

"Follow me to Madame Suze's place," he instructed Johannes.  Dr. Durona would be there, among other useful amenities.  He thought a moment.  "No, better—lead me to Suze's."

He locked the back of the van, doused its flashing lights, and followed Johannes in convoy out of the parking lot.  Roic wondered if m'lord's approach to life, or at least to his Auditorial investigations, was rubbing off on him.  He'd never used to be this cavalier about due process.  It was hard to tell, sometimes, if m'lord's style was the result of single-minded dedication to duty, habits of overweening Vor privilege, or simple insanity.  Roic only knew that he had an inexplicable desire to whistle cheerfully, right now.

Instead he raised his wristcom to his lips, called m'lord, and gave a concise précis of his morning's mission, if m'lord's laconic order of, Roic, go nail that twit could be so grandly styled.

And then, being alone in the driver's cab, he whistled all the way to Suze's.

#