Burgeson shook his head. ‘This isn’t making much sense – ’
‘I’m telling it wrong.’ She screwed up her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Erasmus, let me start again?’
‘For you, anything.’ He smiled briefly.
‘Okay.’ She opened her eyes and exhaled. ‘The Clan exists as a family business, trading between worlds. A group of us – several hundred – believe that we have irrevocably fouled up our relationship with the world of the United States. That the United States military will soon have the power to attack the Gruinmarkt, as well as the strongest possible motivation. Nowhere in the world the Clan lives in is safe. We are fairly certain that the US military doesn’t know about your world, or at least has no way of reaching it directly – you can’t get there from here without going via the Gruinmarkt. So I’ve got a proposal for you. We need somewhere to live – somewhere relatively safe, somewhere we haven’t shat in the bed. Somewhere like New Britain. In return, we can offer you . . . well, my people have been busy grabbing all the science and engineering references they can get their hands on.
‘The United States is sixty to eighty years ahead of you in science and technology, although it might as well be two hundred – we can’t promise to bridge that gap instantly, but we can show your engineers and scientists where to look. Right now you’ve got a hostile French empire off your shore. There are strategies and weapons technologies we can look up in the American history books that are decades ahead of anything the French – or your – navy can muster. And other stuff; see what their economists say, for example, or their historians.’
‘Ah.’ Erasmus nodded to himself. ‘That’s an interesting idea.’ He paused. ‘What do your aristocratic cousins say about this idea? You are aware that we have recently held a revolution against the idea of autocracy and the landed gentry . . . ?’
‘The ones you’re worried about won’t be coming, Erasmus. We’re on the edge of a permanent schism. The people who’re listening to me – the progressives – well, the United States had their revolution more than two hundred years ago, remember that history I gave you?’ He nodded. ‘For decades, the Clan has been educating its children in the United States. I’m unusual only in degree – my mother went the whole way, and raised me there from infancy. There’s a pronounced split between the generation that has been exposed to American culture, education, and ideas, and the backwoods nobility of the Gruinmarkt; the Clan has found it increasingly hard to hold these two factions together for decades now. Those are the people I’d be bringing – those Clan members who’d rather be live refugees in a progressive republic than dead nobles clinging to the smoking wreckage of the old order. People whose idea of a world they’d like to live in is compatible with your party’s ideology. All they want is a reasonable expectation of being able to live in peace.’
‘Oh, Miriam.’ Erasmus shook his head. ‘I would be very happy if I could offer you the assurance you want. Unfortunately’ – she tensed – ‘I’d be lying if I said I could.’ He held out his hand towards her. She stared at it for a moment, then reached out and took it. ‘There is no certainty here. None. Those books you gave me, the histories of your America, they offer no reassurance. We are at war with an internal enemy who will show us no quarter if we lose, and our people are hungry, angry, and desperate. This is a governance of emergency. We hold the east coast and the west, and the major cities, but some of the small towns – ’ He shook his head. ‘The south, the southern continent, the big plantations there – the fighting is bloody and merciless. You shouldn’t expect aid or comfort of us, Miriam. It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better. One of your American wise men said, the tree of liberty has to be watered with the blood of patriots. He wasn’t exaggerating. My job is to, to try and hide what goes into the watering can. To put a good face on murder. You shouldn’t expect too much of me.’
Miriam stared at him for a long moment. ‘All right.’ She pulled on his hand gently. ‘Let’s forget the living-in-peace bit. Can you protect us if we deliver? During the crisis, I mean. We help you develop the industrial mechanisms to defeat your external enemies. Can you, in return, keep the police off us?’
‘The police, Reynolds and his Internal Security apparatus – ’ His expression clouded. ‘As long as I’m not arrested myself, that I can manage. I’ve got leverage. Bentley and Crowe owe me, Williams needs my support – but best if it comes from the top, though, from Sir Adam and with the approval of the steering committee of the People’s Council. It would be best if we kept it under wraps, though, especially if your first task is to build new factories and laboratories for the war effort. Hmm.’
There was a creak from outside the morning-room door, then a throat-clearing: ‘Be you folks decent?’
Erasmus’s head whipped round. ‘Yes, everything is fine,’ he called.
‘Just so, just so.’ It was Frank, the unseen bodyguard. He sounded amused.
‘You can go away now,’ Erasmus added sharply.
A moment later Miriam heard a heavy tread descending the stairs, no longer stealthy. She looked at Erasmus, wide-eyed. ‘Does he think we’re – ’
Erasmus looked back at her. ‘I don’t know he thinks that, but it would make a good cover story, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘If we – ’ She stopped, feeling her ears heat. Sitting on the sofa, holding hands. She let go of his fingers hastily.
‘I’ll need to make inquiries,’ said Erasmus. He let his hand fall. ‘Meanwhile, that big house you bought – I’ll see it’s left alone. If you follow me.’
Miriam swallowed. ‘How long?’ she asked, trying to regain control.
‘You called me back from a, a marketing campaign. I’ll have to see it’s running smoothly. Then report to the Council, and talk to certain people. It could take months.’
‘I’m not sure we’ve got months.’
‘If you can come up with concrete proposals, I can probably hasten the process. Nothing too amazing, but if you can think of something concrete: smaller telautographs, better aircraft engines . . . ?’
‘We can do that.’ Miriam swallowed. ‘I can have a written proposal ready next week.’ That sort of target should be easy enough, she thought: Someone had mentioned a flyer in the Clan who’d smuggled an ultralight into the Gruinmarkt against orders. Find him, tell him what’s needed, and pull the trigger. Even a Second World War-era fighter plane would make an impressively futuristic demo in the skies above New London. ‘Let’s meet here again. Next week?’
He nodded conspiratorially. ‘Come at the same time. I’ll have something for you.’
‘I’ll do that,’ she said automatically, then thought, What? ‘What kind of something?’
‘Documents. A warrant pass. A tele number to call on.’ Erasmus rose to his feet, then offered her a hand. She took it, levering herself out of the collapsed cushion.
‘Do you really think Frank believes we’re having an affair?’
He leaned close to her ear. ‘Frank reports regularly to Oswald Sartorius, who is secretary in charge of state intelligence. He doesn’t realize I know, and I would appreciate your not telling him. It would be safest for you if Oswald thinks we are having an affair; that way you need only worry about being arrested if he decides to move on me, and he will believe you to be of more value alive than dead. If he learns you represent a power center . . . Oswald wants what’s best for state intelligence; he is no more dangerous than a shark, as long as you stay out of the water.’
Miriam froze, feeling his breath on her cheek. ‘Is it that bad?’
‘I don’t know.’ He sounded uncertain. ‘So please be careful.’
‘You’re the second person who’s said that to me today.’ It was disturbing: It meant more to her than she’d anticipated. ‘You be careful too.’
‘I will be.’ He gestured at the door. ‘After you . . .’
BEGIN PHONE TRANSCRIPT
(Groggy.) ‘Yes? Who is this?’
‘Sir? This is BLOWTORCH.
Duty officer speaking. Can you confirm your identity, please?’
(Pause.) ‘I’m KINGPIN. Is this line secure – ’
‘Not yet sir, if you’d like to press button four on your secure terminal now – ’
(Click.) ‘Okay, I’m scrambling. What time – Jesus, this had better be good. What’s the call, son?’
‘Sir, we’ve, uh, there’s a medical alert over the president.’
‘It’s definitely medical? The usual problem?’
‘Sir, it may be worse this time. Don Ensenat says it would be best if you were up and alert – ’
‘Damn. How bad is it?’
‘Sir, we have, uh, the cardiac crash team are trying to resuscitate, but as of now Mr. Cheney is medically unfit. They’ve got him in transit to PIVOT and there’s an operating theater standing by, but it doesn’t look good. Sir, we’re trying to contact Chief Justice Scalia as per the new continuity of government provisions but it’s four in the morning in New York where he’s – ’
‘Son. Stop right there.’ (Rustling.) ‘I’m just waking up here. I’ll be in the operations center in five minutes: Get a team ready to take me to PAVILION, ready to leave in fifteen. Keep me informed if there’s any change in Richard’s condition, if he recovers or . . . not.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘He’ll hang in there. He’s a tough old bird.’
‘I sure hope so, sir. Hell of a thing. Is there anything else I can do for you?’
‘No, son, just get me that transport.’
‘Thank you sir. Goodbye and God bless.’
(Click.)
(Softly.) ‘Christ on a crutch.’
END PHONE TRANSCRIPT
‘Ah, Erasmus. Come in, sit down. How are you?’
‘I’m well, citizen. Thank you.’ It was a small office, surprisingly cramped in view of the seniority of its occupant. Windowless, which was clearly one of the features that had commended it to Sir Adam’s security detail. Burgeson lowered himself into a spindly court chair and laid his folio on the chief commissioner’s desk. ‘There’s no end of rushing about, it seems. I really ought to be back to my train, but, well. The matter of our alien friends came up again.’
Sir Adam’s expression blanked for a moment, assuming the vacuity of information overload. Then he blinked. ‘Ah. The Beckstein woman?’
‘And her allies.’
Sir Adam looked past Erasmus, to his bodyguard. ‘Seumas, if you could go and rustle up tea for two, please? I think we may be a while.’ He paused until the stout fellow had left the room. ‘I’ve got a session of the defense policy review board at three, but I can give you half an hour right now. Will that suffice?’
‘I hope so.’ Erasmus held his hands together to keep from fidgeting. ‘They’ve got more than gold, as I believe I told you; did you have time to read the book?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact . . .’ The chief commissioner removed his spectacles and carefully laid them on the blotter in front of him. Gold-rimmed, they gleamed in the harsh radiance cast by the electrical chandelier overhead. ‘It was very strange. Erasmus, either this is a most remarkable confidence trick, or – ’
Burgeson shook his head. ‘There’s more than just books. I’ve seen some of their machines. Yes, they’re very strange. Frighteningly advanced. They have guns that – I’ve seen a young lady with a gun the size of that pen box, Sir Adam, I’ve seen it mow down polis thugs like a sewing engine. A battery gun you could fit in your coat pocket.’
‘Aliens. With advanced technology. How much of a threat to us are they, in your estimate?’
Erasmus spread his hands wide. ‘I think they’re an opportunity, if we handle them carefully.’
‘What kind of opportunity? And what kind of care do you have in mind?’
‘They’re in trouble, Sir Adam. Which gives us leverage. My understanding of their plight is admittedly incomplete, but you can rest easy: They are not from the United States and they did not invent these near-magical engines that they use. Rather, they are traders – ours is not the only world they can reach – and they have infiltrated the United States you read about and use it as a source of wealth. Mercantilists, in other words. They have historically been an irritant to their host – smugglers and criminals – and now the host has discovered their existence. Miss Beckstein is entangled in a progressive faction among them, modernizers and democrats if not actual Levelers. They recognize the bankruptcy of their former position and would seek sanctuary. In return, what they offer is technology transfer. They can stealthily filch the secrets of the United States’ engineers and scientists, and bring them to us for development. More: They have for years been training their children in modern management techniques.’
‘Just so. Very well, how many of these refugees are they?’
‘Miriam says two to three thousand, at the outside. Most of them cannot travel to the other world – there are only a few hundred who can – but they’re blood relatives. Which suggests an angle, doesn’t it?’
Sir Adam nodded. ‘What are they running from? Enemies at home, or this United States of America?’
‘The latter. It appears they were careless and drew themselves to the attention of the authorities there. I have a distinct and unpleasant impression that the US authorities are building machines that can travel between other worlds, for purposes of invasion. In which case – ’
‘Hmm.’
‘Indeed.’
‘What would you do with these people, Erasmus?’
‘I think we have room for a couple of thousand refugees, and it’s easy enough to be generous under the circumstances. We shall keep them isolated and under wraps, of course. The ones who can’t world-walk – as they call it – are as important as those who can: Apparently their children may acquire the trait. In the meantime, they can be used to compel cooperation. Sir Adam: I propose to use the world-walking refugees to acquire a library of scientific and technological material stolen from the United States. It may also be necessary to recruit human resources, doctors, skilled professionals, a library of experts: voluntarily if possible, but otherwise – ’
‘You’re talking about abduction.’
The door opened: Seumas and a silent palace servant entered, bearing a tea trolley. Sir Adam and Erasmus waited patiently for them to leave; then Erasmus picked up where he’d left off.
‘If necessary, and only in service to our war effort, but . . . yes, if push comes to shove. May I continue? I envisage setting up a network of design bureaus and academies around this library of the future. They will act as a shield around this resource, filtering it out into our own industries. The United States is, well . . . it’s hard to say, but I think their world is between fifty and a hundred years ahead of us in some respects. We won’t close the gap in a decade, or even two or three, because they’re moving forward as well. But we can close the gap faster than the French. If nothing else, knowing what played-out mines to avoid pouring treasure and sweat into will help us. This is a strategic resource, Sir Adam.’
The first citizen nodded slowly. ‘You don’t need to convince me further, Erasmus: It’s preposterous on first hearing but the world is indeed a strange place. But let’s see, when this hits the central committee . . . argue me this: Why you? Why Propaganda? Why not Industry? Give me ammunition.’
Erasmus picked up his teacup. It’s rim clattered against the saucer it was balanced on. ‘Firstly, because they know me. Miss Beckstein trusts me, and she is their figurehead or leader or at least highly influential among them. These people are not beholden to us and we can’t hope to corral them if they take fright. Secondly, because I’m not Industry. What we learn from these aliens will have effects everywhere – Industry is only the beginning of it. The Schools of Health, for instance, and the Directorates of Agriculture and Transportation – they’ll all be affected. The complex I propose to establish will not be building battleships or aerodynes or setting up experimental farms; it will merely provide scientific advice on these topics.
It is indubitably a subdivision of Propaganda – Information. And then there’s the final thing. This, this Clan, they are not the only people who travel between worlds. The United States are building time machines and may stumble upon us one day; and there may be others. Our treatment of these refugees will set a precedent for future diplomatic contacts with other worlds – and also our treatment of refugees from elsewhere on this one. Do you really think that hock-fist Scott, or perhaps Oswald the Ear, would handle the nuances of disclosure effectively?’
Sir Adam’s smile was frozen. ‘Of course they wouldn’t. Erasmus, you have convinced me of most of your case, but you’re wrong on this last single point.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. If these people are as valuable as you tell me, we can’t possibly disclose their existence in public. Not now, not in twenty years’ time. Erasmus, I’m counting on you to reel them in and put them in a deep, padded box – and build your institute and your complex of design bureaus and all the rest of the complicated machinery. We’re not going to breathe a word of this to anyone, including the rest of the commission. Not the Peace and Justice puritans – they’ll just find a way to use your world-travelers as a stick to stir up trouble. Not the Radicals: I’ve no idea what they’d do, but it’d probably be as stupid as those land-reform proposals they keep coming up with. And Foreign Affairs: If the Bourbon gets so much as a whisper that they exist, he can make them an offer that would bankrupt our coffers to match. No. This needs to be kept secret, so secret that nobody gets a whiff of their existence.
The Revolution Trade (Merchant Princes Omnibus 3) Page 53