Free Captain Vorpatril's Alliance by Lois McMaster Bujold

And Ivan could see it was—well, they were cops, they had to have seen some ugly scenarios. “I prefer my bed-friends friendly, thanks.”
    “And?” said Fano. Weariness was beginning to color the patience in his voice.
    “So she invited me inside. I thought I’d got lucky, was all.” Ivan cleared his throat. “This is where it gets a trifle embarrassing, I’m afraid.” Did they know about the blue roommate? Well, they might, but Ivan decided that he wouldn’t. “I thought we were going to sit down for a drink, some get-to-know-you conversation, maybe dinner after all, all the civilized stuff, when suddenly she pulled out a stunner and shot me.”
    “Were you trying to attack her?” said Fano, abruptly cold.
    “No, dammit. Look. I know I’ve been a desk pilot for a while, but I did have basic training, once.” And the ImpSec refresher course on personal defense once a year, but that was a non-routine and dubious benefit of his other rank. No need to mention it here. “If I’d been trying to attack her, I’d have succeeded. She was only able to zap me because it came as a complete surprise. I’d thought things were going well .”
    “And then what did you think?” said Sulmona dryly.
    “Nothing. I was frigging unconscious . For a long time, I guess, because when I woke up, I was tied to a chair and the flat was dark. Seemed empty. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to yell out or not, so I just started working on trying to get loose.”
    “Safe?” said Sulmona, in a disbelieving tone.
    He didn’t have to play a total fool, Ivan decided. He fixed her with a frown. “If you two have worked at your jobs for any length of time, you have to have cleaned up a couple of cases of Barrayarans, especially in uniform, out in the domes who ran into Komarrans with old grudges. I didn’t know if I’d fallen into the hands of crazy people, or terrorists, or spies, or what. Or if I was about to be tortured or drugged or kidnapped or worse. So getting myself loose seemed a better bet than drawing attention.”
    The pair’s return stares were tinged with enough embarrassment that Ivan was pretty sure he’d scored a hit. Develop this theme, then.
    “I was just starting to make progress when these two guys showed up at the window—third-story window, mind you—and started cutting through it with a plasma arc. I didn’t figure this was exactly how Komarrans went visiting their friends, y’know? Especially at that hour. For all I knew, they’d come to collect me.”
    “The perpetrators,” said Fano, “in their first testimony, stated that they were in process of returning the float pallet to the person they’d borrowed it from, and saw you by chance in passing. That you cried out frantically for help, and that’s why they broke in.”
    “Ha,” said Ivan darkly. “Good story, but not true. They cut their way in before they ever saw me.” He hesitated. “First testimony? I hope you fast-penta’d those suckers.”
    He’d actually neither hoped nor expected anything of the kind. Surely any kind of serious agent had to have undergone resistance treatment to the truth drug?
    “Later,” said Fano. “A soon as we’d collated enough evidence and inconsistencies to legally permit us to conduct a non-voluntary penta-assisted interrogation.”
    “What, they weren’t allergic? I mean, they seemed like pros to me. What little I saw of ’em.”
    “Professional petty criminals in the domes don’t normally adopt such extreme military techniques,” said Fano. “Instead, they rely on a cell system. They never know who hired them, or why they were set to their task. Low tech, but effective enough, and very annoying. To us, that is.”
    “I’ll bet,” Ivan commiserated. “So— were they after me?” And thank God he’d stuck as tightly to the truth as he could, so far.
    Fano frowned, and admitted, “No. It seems they were hired to pick up Sera Brindis and her maidservant, and deliver them to a location