“Thank you, Sir. My second request is more controversial and I will fully understand if you turn it down. I need a venue to hold a press-conference.”
I gave him the gist of Honesty-in-Trust’s message and the warnings.
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Your points about safety are well taken. I would not like to place the lives of my staff in additional jeopardy; building spaceships is hazardous enough as it is. So I regret I cannot offer you the resources of Zofi-Brennan.”
“I quite understand. Thank you, anyway, Sir Simpission.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Hold on, young man. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,, only that I couldn’t do it officially. Now, if you’re interested, there’s an old cargo ship orbiting Hajimati. The ibic has been removed but it’s airtight and everything’s working. It’s not very comfortable and a bit far out, but so much the better, eh?”
My heart leapt. “Thank you, Sir. That’s more than I could have hoped for. You are exceedingly generous.”
“Not entirely. Something needs to be done to sort out that rats’ nest down there, and if making you a public figurehead is the way to do it then it’s in my own interests to help.”
“Figureheads tend to be expendable,” I said cynically.
“Bad choice of words. You’re definitely not expendable. You need Protectors.”
“Protectors?”
“Who’s going to be coming to your press conference?”
“Well, the media… oh, I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Leave it with me. I know the very people.”
“Send the bill to Sir Beloved-of-God.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. You don’t want your name associated with this.”
He laughed ruefully. “It’s my turn to say, I never thought of that.”
“When will things be ready?”
“Hmm. Tomorrow. Late afternoon probably.”
“Couldn’t be better. I’ll hit the evening news bulletins, if you have such a thing.”
“We have and you will. Sir MacAdam, I wish you the fortune of the gods. I am very pleased you’ve returned safely, both professionally and personally, and Margee will be equally pleased. She seems to have taken a shine to you.”
“Purely professional, I assure you,” I said with a laugh. “We share the same opinion of druunsbak racing.”
I felt much better as I rang off. For some reason I trusted and respected Sir Simpission and, apparently, the feeling was mutual. Having his support lifted a weight from my mind. The wailing voice in my head was still there, but it was quieter, now. ‘I’ll show them, Flerrionna, my love.’ I said to myself. ‘Your death won’t have been for nothing.’
I contacted Honesty-in-Trust and told him to get himself to the Port as fast as possible, then had a long conversation with Hermes before contacting the Commission. He was, rightly, extremely concerned about our security and insisted on an elaborate plan. I knew Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God was about as trustworthy as a used car salesman… no, that is an insult to used car salesmen. He was even less trustworthy than a used car salesman. I was happy to go along with Hermes’ plans.
Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God was not answering his communicator, nor was Sir Devoted-Acolyte nor Barbita. She was accepting messages, though, so I told her I was back. I tried the Commission itself.
“Lottery Commission,” a harassed voice said.
“This is Sir Crawford MacAdam, the Lottery Winner. Could I speak to Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God, please?”
“Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God is not available at the moment.”
“I am the Lottery Winner. I think he’ll want to talk to me.”
“And I’m a Yellow Hat. Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God is not available to anyone.”
He rang off. I tried again with the same result only this time the operator was the Chief Hierarch. I was becoming angry.
“I am Sir Crawford MacAdam and I want to speak to Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God in person. And don’t give me that bullshit about him being not available. He’d better damned well be available, and you’d better get hold of him right now. If you don’t, you won’t just be out of a job, you might even be in gaol.”
That, at least, stopped the fob-off.
“How do I know you’re who you say you are?” the operator asked suspiciously.
“Excellent question. I’m glad you’re on the ball.” I thought for a moment. “Ask him how many people were in my dressing room on the night of the Lottery Show. The answer is nine.”
“Hold a moment, Sir.”
There was a long silence then the dulcet tones of Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God himself.
“Sir MacAdam? Where have you been? How dare you disappear without informing us? Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? The place is in a turmoil because of you.”
“Shut up,” I said loudly and rudely. “Shut up you tiresome old windbag and listen carefully for I’m not going to bandy words with you. As soon as I’m finished here I shall be contacting the media to announce my safe return…”
“You can’t do that! I forbid it. You must not contact the media.”
“I told you to shut up and listen. Tomorrow at five in the afternoon I will be holding a press conference at a location to be disclosed later. Before or after that, you will board a steegee from the Highest Aspirations Interstellar Port. Once clear of the atmosphere you will contact me and I will give you instructions on where to go. You may bring four others and a pilot. You may not bring any Protectors in any shape or guise, and you will not bring weapons of any description or anything that could be mistaken for a weapon. Do you understand?”
“You’re insane. Mad. I have no intention of meeting these absurd requirements. Fly off to some unknown destination? Preposterous. You have humiliated me enough. I will stand for no more.”
I sighed. “I will repeat the instructions once more. You, and a maximum of five others will take off in a steegee. I will tell you where to go once you’re in space. You will bring neither Protectors nor weapons. Now I don’t care what you think about it, you either come or you don’t. If you decide to come, perhaps we can salvage something from this sorry mess. If you decide not to come, well it’s your problem not mine. Good bye.”
“Wait, wait. I can’t make a decision just like that. I need time to consult; to set things up.”
“Take all the time you want. Just remember, don’t try to cheat me. You didn’t succeed last time and you won’t this.”
I left him spluttering his outrage into his communicator.
Contacting the news agencies was simple but boring. If I was allowed to speak to the equivalent of the News Editor, I gave him or her a brief statement saying that I would be giving a press conference at a secret location off-planet the following day and they were to contact me in the morning for further instructions. I accepted no questions and rang off immediately. If all I could get was a receptionist or a flunky, I simply told them to have the News Editor contact me. I recorded a message should they call and had instructed Julian filter all calls.
“Why didn’t you just ask Julian to contact them and play the message?” Hermes asked.
“Because it never occurred to me,” I said tiredly.
“You’re doing fine. When all this is over you and I and Honesty-in-Trust will get roaring drunk and we will tell you how much we liked and respected Flerrionna and how much we will miss her.”
“Won’t bring her back, though, will it?”
“No. She would appreciate a good wake, though.”
I thought for a moment. “You know, you could be right.”
He patted me on the shoulder. Dammit, he’d done it again; said exactly the right words to make me feel better.
Julian announced that Sir Homer Simpission was trying to contact me.
“Tell Julian to patch him through,” Hermes said. “These one-sided conversations are frustrating.”
“Patch him through, Ju
lian.”
“Sir MacAdam, I have a contact for you.”
“Wait a moment, I need to find something to write with.”
“Julian, record,” Hermes said.
“Oh. Go ahead, Sir Simpission.”
He rattled of a number and hung up with my grateful thanks ringing in his ears.
“Julian, trace please,” Hermes said.
“Unlisted number,” Julian said. “Please wait.” There was a slight pause. “Sir Eye-of-God Graceful-Ascension, owner of the Holy Crusade Protection Agency.”
“Contact him, please, Julian.”
“Yes?” a clipped voice said.
“Sir Graceful-Ascension? This is Sir Crawford MacAdam.”
There was a long pause then a brief chuckle. “You know my name. A cautious man. I understand you are in need of my services?”
I explained the situation. We discussed what was needed, Hermes chipping in with suggestions.
“When should we let them in?” Sir Graceful-Ascension asked.
“I’ve no idea. How long will they need to get set up?”
“Probably an hour.”
“Right. No-one to board until four.”
“Done. Refreshments?”
Hermes shook his head.
“No. In and out as quickly as possible,” I said.
“Good idea. Safer.” He paused. “Delicate question. Is there a real threat?”
It was my turn to pause. “I’ve no idea. You’re better placed to assess that than I. I would, though, like you to be conspicuous. I haven’t quite decided what I’m going to say, but I want to make a point that I take this very seriously.”
“We can do that.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“Yes. One more thing. Advise the media people to share steegees. It’s safer and quicker. It’ll take some time if there’s several dozen queuing up.”
“Done.”
He chuckled briefly. “Till tomorrow.”
“Indeed. And thank you, Sir Graceful-Ascension.”
He grunted and rang off.
“A Madam Barbita Brabicoso,” Julian announced.
“Crawford? Are you there? Are you okay?” Barbita sounded very tense.
“Yes, Barbita, I’m here. I’m okay, physically at least.”
“Oh, Crawford, I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve been so worried. Are the girls all right?”
“They’re fine. Would you like to talk to them?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on a minute. Julian, can you make this private?”
“If the ladies would like to adjourn to the lounge…”
They rushed out.
“Barbita, Julian’s just patching you through to the lounge so you can talk privately.”
“Julian?”
“The ship’s ibic.”
“Oh.”
“Patching now,” Julian said.
“Speak to you shortly,” I said.
“She sounded worried,” Hermes commented.
“Well, I did abduct four of her girls.”
He shook his head. “She would be angry, not worried.”
“I’ll find out.”
We sat about doing nothing and saying little for the best part of a quarter of an hour.
“Crawford, are you there?” Barbita’s voice asked.
“I’m here Barbita.”
“I don’t know where to start. It’s been pandemonium. What with you missing and the girls and then…” I could hear the panic rising in her voice.
“Barbita, it’s okay. I’m very sorry to have stolen the girls. I didn’t want to, but I had to leave urgently. I can’t tell you why right now but I had to go. I’m not sorry the girls were with me. They’ve been wonderful and I think they enjoyed themselves, but I am very, very sorry I’ve caused you so much worry and stress.”
She sighed. “I should be angry and I was until… until the incident. I thought you were there. I thought you’d been killed. And when they said they’d found two bodies….”
“I understand. I’m very sorry about Taragis. He was a fine being and a friend.”
“He liked you too. Oh, and Madam Pressicallita… I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay, Barbita. I was very upset at first. Now I’m kind of numb and I’m beginning to get very angry.”
She gave a nervous giggle. “I’ve seen you angry.”
“Are you all right. Is everyone okay?”
“Yes.” She stopped and gulped. “No. No, we’re not okay. We’ve locked the doors; barricaded ourselves in. I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t get hold of anybody. No-one’s taking calls, even Sir Devoted-Acolyte. We haven’t been outside in days.”
“Is anybody guarding the place?”
“Guarding? No. There’s no-one here but us.”
“Barbita, listen to me. I’m going to call someone. He’ll contact you. Call me back after. Okay?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Arrange for some protection,” I said grimly.
I contacted Sir Graceful-Ascension who was happy to oblige.
“Now I really am getting angry,” I said to Hermes. “How could they just abandon them like that?”
Hermes smiled enigmatically. “You need caffeine.”
The next event was Honesty-in-Trust’s arrival. He rushed up to me and hugged me tightly.
“Thank the gods you’re okay,” he said in a choked voice.
He hugged Hermes, too, much to the latter’s surprise.
“Sorry, I’m a bit emotional just now,” he said with a wry smile. “It wasn't until I heard your voice that I realised how much Flerrionna’s death had affected me. Crawford, I can’t say how sorry I am.”
I managed a tight smile. “Hermes thinks we should go on a bender in her memory.”
He nodded once. “She would appreciate that.” He drew a deep breath. “Now where are we?”
I called the girls back in and we settled in for a council of war. The more we talked, the angrier I became. It appeared nothing was being done. The Board of the Lottery Commission was virtually in hiding. Sir Inner-Piety, two Board members and several senior executives had disappeared. The Interpellators were making a lot of sound and fury, but only to mask the fact they didn’t have a clue about how to conduct their investigation. The Bartimarm City Assembly were swithering and dithering and generally making a nuisance of themselves. They seemed more concerned with the loss of the hotel than the fact that someone had planted a bomb. The only plus was that, so far, both the Geretimalian and Theocratic governments had kept their noses out, but Honesty-in-Trust feared this state of affairs might not last long.
“What are your feelings about leaving?” I asked Hermes abruptly.
“Leaving?” several voices gasped. “You can’t leave.”
“I’m not overly attached to Geretimal,” he said blandly.
“We might not be able to return for quite some time.”
He shrugged.
“And you, Honesty-in-Trust? The offer’s still open.”
“I’ll still pass.”
“Here’s the situation as I see it. This bomb has blown the top off the anthill and all the ants are running around frantically. Unlike ants, whose purposelessness is an illusion, the authorities really are directionless. They’ve never faced anything like this before and they haven’t a clue how to handle it. They’re directionless because they have no focus. I’m going to give them a focus… me. I’m going to make them hate me and, in hating me, they’ll unite and perhaps then they’ll start acting professionally.”
Honesty-in-Trust sucked his teeth, closed his eyes and cursed softly. “Sorry. Forgot I can’t contact my ibic from here. It’s a risky strategy, Crawford.”
“I agree. Do you have a better one? Look, other than you and Barbita, I’ve nothing here. I’ve lost the only person who could keep me here and even Taragis is gone. I’ve just about had it up to here with Geretimal.” I turned to the girls. “I’ve deliberately not included you
as you’re due to go home anyway. That doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.”
I was too caught up in my vision to notice their responses.
“It’s a risky strategy,” I ploughed on. “But something’s got to be done. You admit that. It may not work but, if it does, at least I’ll know that I’ve done something to avenge the death of Flerrionna and Taragis and all the other beings who died.”
“What, exactly, do you intend to do?”
“I’m going to use my press conference to attack them. I don’t know exactly what I’ll say. I’m hoping you’ll all help with that. In general terms I want to accuse the Commission of being cowards, the Interpellators of being disorganised and the Government of vacillating.”
“At least it’s the truth. That’ll be a refreshing change.
“What about the media?” Lorca asked suddenly.
“What’s your opinion?”
“Incompetent.”
“In what way?”
“Well they’re reporting everything with a sort of breathless disbelief, but there’s no analysis, no comment.”
“Our media are not used to analysing things,” Honesty-in-Trust said.
I snorted derisively. “If this had been Earth, they’d’ve had the talking heads in within five minutes and we’d’ve had every theory from an Act of God to the imminent collapse of civilisation as we know it.”
Honesty-in-Trust shook his head. “Not here. It isn’t done like that.”
“Then perhaps it’s time that changed.”
“Julian,” Hermes said. “Based on what you’ve heard so far, can you estimate the chances of Crawford succeeding?”
“What is your goal, Crawford?” Julian asked.
“To divert the attention of the various authorities away from their personal concerns and harness their energies to investigating the attack. I’m going to do it by insulting them.”
“Thank you. I will need to review the available information. Please be patient.” It was silent for several seconds. “My initial analysis suggests there is a high probability that Crawford’s analysis of the current behaviour of the various authorities is correct. I am unable to accurately predict the consequences of his proposed actions. The margin of error is too wide.”
“Why is that, Julian,” I said.
“Firstly, your proposal is vague and secondly, I am not equipped to do complex sociological analyses.”
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