by Peter Grant
Agim could have cursed aloud. He longed to be able to prosecute this war as he saw fit, without interference… but he knew Fatmir was right. The Council had been growing increasingly restive at being cut out of operational control. He had to keep them on his side, or risk being removed as their Chairman and losing power altogether.
“The Council meets in three days,” he observed. “Let us work up an operational plan to strike Constanta, and present it to them. We shall also brief them on the security situation at our base. Pal Sejdiu has just arrived, on the same courier ship that brought us the news from New Skyros.. He is Head of Security on our refinery ship, and responsible to Captain Toci for overall personnel security. He can address the Council with authority. They will believe him, even if they might doubt us. If we remind them of the Patriarch’s teaching that offense is the best form of defense, and assure them that our underlying defenses are strong, I think they can be persuaded.”
“Some will object,” Endrit said gloomily. “There are weaker wills than ours on the Council.”
“Then we shall have to stiffen them – or replace them.”
The leader of the spy team listened to the recording made by the ‘moths’, and cursed aloud. “The travel delay is going to bite us in the butt on this one! It takes five to six weeks for us to get word to Qianjin, sending it via three intermediate planets. It’ll take them two more to forward it to Constanta. By the time it gets there, the attack might have gone in already!”
“What if we try to charter a courier ship on one of the intermediate planets, to head directly for Constanta?” another of his team asked.
“Then we risk blowing our cover. Remember what happened to the other team?”
They all shivered. Another spy ring, centered on the Brotherhood’s leased offices, had been broken up when its listening devices had been uncovered. Its commander had not survived.
They stared helplessly at each other. At last the leader said savagely, “It can’t be helped. Let’s get this out on the next available ship. All we can do is hope for the best.”
Pal Sejdiu rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps inside, then an old man opened the door. His lined, wrinkled face broke into a broad smile. “Pal! It has been too long!” He held out his open arms, and they embraced warmly.
“It has, Gjerg,” the visitor agreed, following his host into the house. “For the last year or more, I’ve visited Patos only on business. I’ve never had enough free time to relax and socialize. This time, I’ve taken a couple of weeks’ leave, so I can catch up with old friends like you.”
The other cocked his head. “There is a heaviness in your voice, Pal. What is wrong?”
“I… I am not supposed to talk about it.”
“Oh, come on! Am I not a member of the Council of the Brotherhood? If you cannot trust me, who can you trust?”
“It… oh, very well. Do not tell anyone else about this, or Agim will probably shoot me.”
The old man’s eyebrows shot up. “What is it?”
Slowly, haltingly, Pal described how his wife had been recruited by Agim Nushi to return to the field as an agent, and sent to Constanta. “The last report Agim says he had from her is a year old. Since then, there has been no word.”
Gjerg was silent for a long moment, then laid his hand gently on Pal’s knee as they sat together on the sofa. “Pal… you know I was an agent, too?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I had much experience in the field, and later rose to supervise our secret operations under the leadership of the Patriarch. I… I am sorry to have to say this, but in all those years, I never knew an agent to fail to report for a year, and still come home safely.”
Pal gulped audibly, and Gjerg’s heart went out to him. “That… that is my fear, too. We lost our son, Alban, aboard our armed freighter Ilaria, while my wife was already on her mission. I asked Agim to tell her, and he said he did, but she never contacted me. Now… now I fear the worst. Have I lost, not just my firstborn son, but my wife, too?”
Tears were in Gjerg’s eyes as he reached over and hugged Pal hard. “I am so sorry! To suffer one such loss is tragedy. To suffer two is unbearable!”
They were silent for a long moment of shared misery. At last Pal straightened, with an almost visible effort. “I… I must not let this interfere with my work for our cause. The Patriarch gave all, his family, his children, and in the end his own life, for the Fatherland Project. If he could give so much, I can give no less.”
“I am proud of you, my boy! That is the only attitude for a true member of the Brotherhood. By saying that, you prove yourself to be a worthy disciple of the Patriarch. Wherever he is now, I am sure his spirit smiles upon you – and I am sure he has Alban and Jehona safe in his keeping.”
“I hope and pray so, Gjerg. Sometimes it is hard not to doubt that.”
The old man nodded. “I have the same problem sometimes when I think of my dear wife and our son. I hope and pray I shall see them again one day.” He rose, walked over to the sideboard, and poured two glasses of a potent raki. “Come, let us drink away our sorrows. You are to address the Council about our security, are you not?” He added a little water to each glass, then handed one to Pal. They clinked glasses and drank.
Pal swallowed, and coughed. “This is good raki! Yes, I am. I have reported to the Council before, but that was when the Patriarch was Chairman. Since Agim took over, he has discouraged outsiders from addressing it. Why has he suddenly asked me to do so, I wonder?”
“He has displeased many of us for cutting the Council out of many decisions, running our operations with the help of two lieutenants. That is not how the Patriarch wished us to operate. Also, there is currently a vacancy – Halil Kuqo has stepped down due to age and infirmity – but Agim has delayed a vote on his successor. I, and others too, find that… unwise.” Gjerg’s words hung ominously in the air between them for a moment. “Let us see what tomorrow brings. I am glad you will be there. Many of the older councilors will remember you.” He shrugged. “Come! Let us talk of other things. Tell me of your work.”
Later that evening, driving slowly and carefully back to his home after consuming a few glasses too many of Gjerg’s strong raki, Pal shook his head. He had received Jehona’s latest missive when he arrived at Patos, and spent a long time mulling over her request. What she and her captors had suggested would be all but impossible for him to accomplish from their far distant base. If he was to achieve anything, it would have to be from Patos, in a position with more authority, one that allowed him to communicate more quickly with all concerned. If what Jehona had said was true, and the Big Three had taken notice, the Brotherhood as a whole was in mortal danger. It could not be long before their enemies acted. Before then, he had to find a way out for as many people as he could… or else they would be exterminated, root and branch.
That was why he had visited Gjerg this evening, and deceived him about his ‘fears’ for Jehona. He knew the old man regarded him with warm approval, and had considerable influence in the Council. Who knew where that might lead, if he played his cards right?
He went to sleep that night with an aching head, but calm determination in his soul.
7
Healing
CONSTANTA
Jock rang the doorbell of the small stone cottage. There was no reply, so he tried again. Still no response. Frowning slightly, he walked to the corner of the house and round to the back. Sure enough, Sue McBride was seated beneath a tree, gazing out over the valley that stretched into the distance. Visibility was crystal-clear at this time of year, with no heat haze to spoil it.
He cleared his throat loudly, then called, “I’m here, Sue.”
She jumped to her feet, looking guilty as she spun around. “Oh, Jock, I’m sorry! I should have been there to meet you. I just got… lost in my thoughts, I suppose.”
“That’s all right, lass. You’re looking better than when I last saw you. Your cheeks are rosy.”
She smiled. �
�That’s because of that last meal you cooked. I don’t know why you made so much, but the leftovers kept me fed for a week! It was very tasty.”
“Aye. I may not be a blue ribbon chef, but I can turn out a tasty enough meal when I put my mind to it. I’ve got more food in the car. What would you say to cullen skink for supper?”
She laughed aloud. “How many generations is it since your family saw Scotland?”
“Must be a dozen at least – maybe a score or more.”
“Well, you’re still an inveterate Scot at heart! Sure, I’d love to – but where did you get smoked haddock on Constanta? I’ve never found it here, smoked or plain.”
“I had a friend send me some, frozen, from Rousay. It’s not real haddock, of course – just a local equivalent – but it’s not bad.”
“Oh, you dear man! My mouth’s watering at the very thought. Can I help cook?”
“Indeed you can. Let’s get everything inside, then sit down and talk for a while. Later, we’ll have at it over a hot stove.”
He watched her with covert satisfaction as they carried bags into the cottage. This was the fourth time he’d visited her. At first she’d been very withdrawn, painfully so; but they’d shared enough in the two decades they’d known each other professionally for him to break down her reserves, slowly and carefully. He reflected that he was probably closer to her now than any other human being. That was no hardship, of course. Sue was short and stocky, not attractive in the conventional sense, but she was every bit an engineer and technician, just as he was: a mind after his own heart. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before. It made things a bit hard on him, having to hide his new-found interest, but if that was what she needed right now, so be it.
“What’s the Commodore got you working on now?” she asked, as she poured a mug of strong black tea. He preferred coffee, but didn’t object as he added milk and sugar. If Sue wanted tea, he’d drink it along with her.
“It’s true what they say; there’s no rest for the wicked!” She laughed as he went on, “He’s got me working with Grigorescu Shipyards, analyzing every aspect of an orbital shipyard; how it’s put together, how its different workshops and tech departments work together, anything and everything you can think of. He wants me to learn enough about them to build or run one myself, if need be.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “He’s surely not planning to set up in competition with Grigorescu?”
“No, not at all. He wants me to teach his skippers how and where to target a shipyard, if it comes to that; where its vulnerable points and nodes are. We don’t know what the Brotherhood has at their base. If there’s a shipyard, we’ll add it to our target list, so any of their ships we damage during a strike can’t be repaired there.” There was another reason, but Cochrane had ordered him to keep that in the strictest confidence for the time being.
“Oh, I get it. So he’s serious about going after them?”
“Serious as a heart attack. He hasn’t forgotten what they did to us in Mycenae.”
“Neither have I.” A spasm as if of intense pain crossed her face for a moment, and Jock cursed himself for having raised the subject, but she went on, “I… I can face up to that now. A part of me will never stop blaming myself for all my friends who died aboard Vulcan, but I suppose that’s part of human nature.”
He breathed more easily. “Aye, I suppose it is. Have you thought about going back into space, in one of her successors? Vulcan II is working up, and Hephaestus will be with us next year.”
“I don’t think so… not now, perhaps not ever. I might go back into space as a passenger, to get from one place to another, but I don’t want to be responsible for more lives there.” She shivered.
He nodded silently. That was progress of a sort. Perhaps more would come later. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but Vulcan II has a memorial to her namesake. They’ve put up a stainless steel panel beneath the ship’s crest in the docking bay, with a picture of her and the names of everyone who died aboard her engraved on it, giving their dates of birth and ranks. Everyone who passes it for the first time each day comes to attention and salutes it.”
Her eyes filled with moisture. “That’s… that’s really nice of them.”
“Anytime you want to see it, I’ll be glad to take you up there.”
“Thanks, Jock, but… not yet. I’m feeling better, but I’m not that much better. Give me time.”
“All right.” He sipped his tea. “Will you be staying up here in the mountains, or moving back to town?”
“I suppose I’ll have to move back. I can’t live as a hermit all my life! I don’t know what I’ll do, though. The Commodore’s been really kind in letting me just coast for as long as I need, on full pay. I tried to tell him to stop that, and let me just resign and cash in my founder’s bonus, but he said it was no problem.”
Jock grinned. “Our bonuses are now up to a hundred million Neue Helvetica francs each. Any of the eight of us founding members can retire very rich, any time we want to.”
She blinked. “That much? Last I heard, we had twenty-five million apiece in our profit share accounts.”
“The Commodore’s raised it twice since then. You’ve been… preoccupied.”
She gave a short laugh. “Out of my head, you mean! Still, it’s good to know that’s there to fall back on.” She glanced at him curiously. “Why haven’t you retired?”
“Cochrane’s a man to follow, lass. I’ve admired him for a long time. He’s kept me busy on really interesting projects, and always treated me as an equal – not like some officers who get all hoity-toity about themselves. I respect him. As long as he needs me, I’ll work with him. If the day ever comes that he doesn’t, I might set up in business for myself. As a matter of fact, one of his plans, if it works out, will give all of us the chance to do that, if we want to.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I can’t speak of it yet, lass; but take my word for it – it’s big. If he gets it right, we’ll all of us have enough work to keep us busy for decades, for Hawkwood, for ourselves, and for… well, you’ll see.”
She shook her head, half amused, half irritated. “You can’t just leave it dangling like that, Jock!”
“I said too much then. Sorry, but I can’t tell you more yet. If all goes very well, we may all know more soon. Cochrane plays his cards close to his chest, and he wants me to do the same. He hasn’t even brought all the other directors into this – only a couple of us.”
“Oh, very well. I won’t pry. I wonder if he’ll have any work for me planetside for a while?”
Jock looked at her thoughtfully. “If you’re up to it, I can tell you right now, there’s a very important job crying out for someone like you to do it.”
“What is it?”
“Promise me you won’t breathe a word about this to anyone, lass – not even to Cochrane. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
She sat up eagerly. “If it’s that important, yes, I promise. Go on!”
“The boss needs a project engineer to manage a really big job. She’ll have to work with all sorts of other engineers – civil, computer, electrical, environmental, geotechnical, manufacturing, material, process, structural, transport, you name it. It doesn’t really matter what sort of engineer she is herself, so long as she can talk to other engineers as one professional to another, and pull them together into a smoothly functioning team.”
“Ye Gods, that sounds complicated! What’s she supposed to accomplish?”
Jock took a deep breath. “She’s got to prepare a project plan for the biggest job we’ve ever undertaken. I can’t say what it is yet, but what I’m doing has some connection to it.”
Sue goggled. “If it involves all those areas of engineering, it must be a hell of a job! Surely one person can’t possibly handle all that complexity?”
“Oh, Cochrane knows that. He’ll expect the project engineer to build up a staff to handle it all. He has to have the right person at the top, t
hough; someone he trusts absolutely. That’s why I say it’s right up your alley. I know you’re a damned good engineer, and you’ve known the Commodore almost as long as I have. He likes you.”
“But why hasn’t he asked me whether I want the job?”
“Be reasonable, Sue. You shut out all of us for a long time. The Commodore respected your wishes. If that’s changed, and you’re willing to get back into harness, I reckon he’ll slide you into that slot so fast your feet won’t touch the ground!”
She caught her breath. “I… I don’t know if I could handle that much, this quickly.”
“It’d be high-pressure, all right. He wants whoever takes the job to make a fast overall study of what’s involved. They’ll need to have a handle on it within six months, so they can start planning who and what they want on their team, ready to get moving as soon as conditions are right.”
“Who’s it for? I mean, is this project for a customer, or for us – for Hawkwood?”
“Again, I can’t say right now. If you take that slot, the boss will tell you more, but I daren’t breach security on it. It might – no, it will hurt us if anyone talks out of turn.”
“It sounds like quite the job. I… I’ll think about it.” She jumped to her feet. “I’m getting hungry! Let’s start cooking.”
She peeled and diced potatoes, and set them to boil while he sliced onions and leeks and began sautéing them. While they were softening, he poached the fish in milk. When the potatoes were ready, he mashed half of them with some of the milk from the fish, then combined them with the diced potatoes and the onions and leeks. He de-boned the fish, broke it into flakes and added it to the mixture as he stirred in the rest of the milk. He reached for a bottle of white wine, and poured a healthy glassful into the soup. “I know it’s not in original Scottish recipes, but it tastes so darned good I can’t resist,” he confessed, adding salt and pepper and tasting the thick, rich fluid.