The Folding Knife

by Parker, K. J.

  He closed his eyes. Basso noticed that he hadn't touched the large brandy he'd poured for him.

  "I couldn't make it out," Bassano went on. "I could see four men lying on the ground, like they were asleep; like drunks passed out after a party. I think I knew instinctively that they were dead, but that made no sense at all, because surely people would be trying to help if there'd been an accident--I wondered if they'd been up on scaffolding working on the gutters--but there was nobody at all in the yard, which really was odd. Also, if the yard was empty, where had all the noise come from?"

  He stopped talking, and Basso could see he was staring at the wall, at one particular place on the blank wall, where there was nothing worth looking at. "Are you all right?" he asked, but Bassano didn't seem to have heard him. "Maybe you should get some rest," he said awkwardly, not knowing how you were supposed to treat this condition: herb tea, inhalation of sage and saffron steeped in boiling water, mustard poultice on the forehead to draw out the poisonous memory. His mother would have known; or at least, she'd have ordered some remedy, which wouldn't have worked.

  "I'm fine, really," Bassano said. "Where was I?"

  "You'd just looked out of the window."

  "Oh, right." Bassano grinned weakly. "I do apologise, I sort of lost the thread there for a moment. Anyway, you know me, no common sense whatsoever. I thought that since I was nominally in charge of the place, I'd better go down and take a look. So I went down the back stair--you know, that awful spiral job where if you meet someone coming the other way, you've got to walk backwards up to the next landing? We really should tear it out and put in something decent, before there's an accident."

  "Noted," Basso said.

  "Thanks. Well," Bassano added, with a laugh that had little to do with humour, "I don't suppose it's going to be too far up your list of priorities, in the circumstances. But you might just bear it in mind." He picked up the brandy, then put it down. "So I went down the stairs, out into the yard, and there still wasn't anybody about; I'd been expecting people to come rushing out, like I'd just done. But I stood there, all on my own in the yard, and--I don't know, it didn't seem real, it was like some big event was going on, a procession or a ceremony or something, and everybody else had been told about it except me. Stupid way to think, of course, but my mind just went blank. I couldn't seem to get any further than 'all this is very strange'. And I thought, I'd better find someone and ask what's going on. So I turned back to go into the main shop, but the door was shut. I tried the handle, it turned but the door wouldn't open. Crazy, I thought. I looked round; the Arsenal door was shut too, but the door of Treasury Storage was wide open. So I sort of picked up my feet and wandered across."

  Basso winced, which made Bassano laugh. "Like I said," he went on, "no more sense than next door's cat. I walked in through the door, and there they were, hundreds of them. Thank God they were busy and didn't see me. I just stood there; I couldn't believe it. They were prising open the barrels--the newly minted stuff, they weren't bothered about the foreign money, which is significant when you think about it. They must've known exactly where to find what they wanted. Anyhow, they were popping the lids off the barrels with the horns of their axes, then baling coins out into sacks with--I believe it was old tin dishes; I guess they must've brought them with them, because I don't remember anything like that lying around in Storage. One man would be holding the sack, another would be leaning over the barrel, scooping. I remember, one of the scoopers lifted his head and he saw me. Eyeball to eyeball, as they say. He looked at me for--well, I don't know how long, seemed to last for ever, couldn't have been more than a pulse beat or two; then he went back to what he was doing, and I realised, I didn't matter, I wasn't a threat, not worth losing time over. Of course, I couldn't see very far into the building, so I had no way of knowing how many of them there were in there. Could've been twenty or a thousand of them for all I knew. But I thought, if I'm not a threat, they can't be worried about being found out and someone calling the guards; and it was only then I started putting things together, the dead men in the yard, and it started dawning on me what was happening."

  "Don't blame yourself for that," Basso said. "I don't suppose--"

  "Yes, but I do," Bassano said. "I was supposed to be in charge, and a whole fucking army just walks in and empties the Treasury, and--"

  "Listen." Basso raised his voice a little, and Bassano looked at him. "We're fairly sure there must've been at least five hundred of them. I spoke to Aelius just now. Do you know how many soldiers he's got stationed in the City right now? Not just on call at the guards but all over town, all the guards and watch patrols and everything? Just under two hundred. So even if they'd all rushed down there the moment they stepped off the boats, we'd have been outnumbered more than two to one. There wasn't anything anybody could've done. That's all there is to it."

  "I didn't know that," Bassano said quietly. "And it doesn't really make any difference, does it? I should've been able to do something more constructive than stand there gawping like an idiot, then run like hell back to my office and wedge the door shut with a chair. That's just plain cowardice."

  "Once it'd finally sunk in," Aelius said (his face was grey and his skin looked tight over his cheekbones; showing his age, Basso thought), "I realised how completely screwed we were. I still didn't know how many there were. Trachea's men said hundreds, but what's that supposed to mean? More to the point, they'd been in there for some time, they'd cheerfully killed anybody who got in their way and even I'd finally managed to guess what they were after. And I knew there was nothing I could do to stop them."

  Basso nodded. "I accept that," he said.

  "Thank you," Aelius replied. "Thinking about it, I don't suppose Trachea could've known just how few men we had in the City. It's not common knowledge--not a secret either, it's just one of those things you don't think about. We aren't at war, we don't have a law-and-order problem, nothing bad's ever going to happen to us, so why would we clutter up the City with a lot of armed men we don't need? Well." He shook his head. "I guess they could count on their fingers as well as the next man."

  Basso said: "What happened to Trachea and his men?"

  "My fault," Aelius said briskly. "I should've been quicker off the mark. Given the information available to him, Trachea did the right thing: bottle them up in the Yard so they can't get out, call for reinforcements. Of course, there weren't any reinforcements worth a damn, and all he'd done was make things worse. Soon as they'd finished looting Treasury Storage they came back out again, found that some fool had blocked their way with a load of carts, and forced their way through. Trachea, being a brave soldier, tried to stop them, and they went through him and his men like they weren't there."

  "What did you do?"

  "Me?" Aelius laughed. "As soon as I saw they were coming through, I told my fifty or so men to get the hell out of there, and I personally ran as fast as I've ever run in my life. By the time I stopped, I was in Cornmarket, and people were staring at me, wondering why this exhausted man in uniform had just collapsed on the steps of the Exchange."

  Basso didn't say anything for a while. Then he said: "I assume you'd realised that they would return to their ships by the shortest route possible, and that if left alone they'd do no further harm; in which case--"

  "No such thing," Aelius interrupted; he sounded angry. "It was sheer terror. Not the first time, either. The second battle I was in, I ran away. One moment we were all in line, spears levelled, sergeant calling out orders by the numbers; next thing I knew I was in some barn somewhere, hiding under a load of straw. I was desperately ashamed of myself for a while, until I talked to other soldiers about it, and guess what: they'd all done something like it, at one time or another. It's what happens. Armies don't stand their ground and butcher each other down to the last man. One side or other always runs away, and when you run, you run." He shook his head. "I can't expect you to understand," he said. "No civilian could. As far as you're concerned, it was un
forgivable cowardice in the face of the enemy. Which it was," Aelius added. "And I'll say as much to the court martial."

  Basso scowled at him. "Don't be stupid," he said. "There won't be any court martial. I'm directly answerable for your actions to the House."

  "Ah." Aelius nodded slowly. "I see."

  "Good. As far as everybody but you and me are concerned, you stood your ground, only withdrawing when you realised that further resistance would inevitably result in pointless civilian casualties. Sort it out with your people; I don't want any inconsistencies."

  Aelius nodded. "Understood," he said. "Does that mean I still have a job?"

  "Of course you do," Basso snapped. "You think that with all this on my plate, I've got the time or the energy to find someone else? Last thing I need is to have to work with a stranger at a time like this."

  "Well?" Basso asked.

  Cinio took a long time to answer. "Nothing," he said. "Well, about sixteen thousand nomismata, spilled on the floor while they were filling the sacks. Plus the foreign coin for melting, which they didn't touch, and what was actually in the Mint shop, say another twenty thousand. That's it."

  Basso said: "The foreign money."

  "It's your bloody nephew's fault," Cinio said. "Since he's been in charge, production's up by nearly a third. A quarter of a million, if that; all the rest had already been melted down and restruck."

  When he spoke again, Basso's voice was level and calm. "So," he said, "as far as we know, the cash reserve of the Republic stands at around two hundred and eighty thousand, as against..." He glanced at the paper on his desk. "Twenty million, this time yesterday. All the rest of it's gone, we don't know where, and we have no idea if we can get any of it back. That's true, isn't it?" Suddenly he laughed, and a huge smile spread on his face like blood from a wound. "We're broke," he said. "The Republic has no money."

  Cinio stared at him, then grinned. "Yes," he said, "that's right. No money."

  Basso leaned back until his chair creaked, and put his hands behind his head. "Let's just think about that," he said. "We can't pay anybody for anything. We can't pay the guards, or the street sweepers, or the highways division, or the men who put oil in the street lamps in Portgate, we can't pay the builders or the masons, we can't service thirty million nomismata's worth of debt, all the state guarantees to business are worthless; we can't hire soldiers to go to Mavortis to look for our money, and even if we could we can't pay any oarsmen to row them there in our fleet of not-yet-paid-for warships. We're so totally and comprehensively screwed, I can't think of anything that could possibly make things worse. Really I can't," he added, "and I'm a pessimist. It's so perfect it's practically beautiful. So," he said, still smiling, "what do we do now?"

  To say that the Republic was bankrupt (the First Citizen told the House) was not just totally false; it was also misleading and criminally irresponsible. The Republic had lost assets to the value of twenty million nomismata. In movable goods alone, not counting real estate, the Republic still had assets in excess of a hundred million nomismata, while its realty was worth between five and ten times that amount. To talk of national bankruptcy was absurd, and anybody who continued to speak in such terms would be doing the Vesani people a grave disservice.

  The stolen money would, of course, be recovered. Such a vast sum could not be dispersed through conventional banking anywhere in the world before the Republic's agents found it and reported its whereabouts to the government, whereupon immediate and devastating reprisals would be launched. No sane foreign banker would touch the money, no government would allow it to cross their border. Even if the thieves buried the money in the middle of the desert, Vesani intelligence would find it. It was, quite simply, too much money for anyone to get away with.

  Until then, clearly, the Republic would have to adopt various expediencies in order to function. For all official transactions, therefore, paper money would be issued, backed by government land. Each paper note would bear a promise to repay, in gold coin, at a given date, and that promise would be honoured. For foreign business, and in particular the hiring of mercenary troops, gold coin could not be replaced by paper without the risk of triggering a crisis of confidence. Accordingly, the First Citizen said, the Bank of Charity & Social Justice had that morning agreed to loan the Treasury its entire reserve of coined gold money, amounting to eight million nomismata, on the security of land debentures. Further, the Bank was placing its entire credit at the government's disposal, enabling the Treasury to borrow from the Bank at will, without delay or formality, for the duration of the crisis. The First Citizen added that he had not, unfortunately, had an opportunity to discuss the situation with the heads of the Republic's other banks, and he could not, therefore, speak for them; however, he had every confidence that they would follow the Charity's lead, especially with regard to the provision of gold coin. On that assumption, he could assure the House that by close of business that day, the Treasury would once again be able to call upon cash reserves of at least twenty million nomismata. In simple terms, he told the House, the money was there. There was a problem. Indeed, there was a crisis, and the Vesani people had suffered an insult unprecedented in their history. But to talk, as some members of the Opposition had been doing, of a disaster, of the end of the Republic as they knew it, was utterly absurd, and he could only guess at the motivation of the individuals concerned.

  As for blame, he said, there would be plenty of time for that later. As yet, the full facts of the matter were unknown; until they knew who had stolen the money, whether or not they had had the help of Vesani accomplices, whether the military authorities had had any reason to suspect that such a crime was being planned, it would be pointless and counterproductive to find fault. When the time came and all the necessary information had been assembled, a board of enquiry would make an informed decision and action would be taken. Until then, it was the duty of the House and the First Citizen to work together as never before to heal the Republic's wounds and see to it that damage to the state's interests was kept to the bare minimum. On that basis, he commended his proposed plan of action to the House.

  "Basso," Antigonus said, leaning forward a little, so that his sleeve was in danger of catching fire in the candle-flame, "we haven't got eight million nomismata."

  "I know," Basso said.

  "You know." Antigonus nodded slowly. "Well, that's a comfort. You may be reckless to the point of insanity, but at least you're properly informed. What in God's name possessed you?"

  "It's not a problem," Basso said sharply. "The other banks have covered the remaining twelve million, and I know for a fact, they really are good for the money. We'll draw down on them first. Think about it," he added, as Antigonus shook his head. "Reserves are reserves, right? Reserves are money you squirrel away because you know you won't need it, but one day you just conceivably might. So long as everyone believes the money's there, we won't need to touch a nomisma of it."

  Antigonus scowled at him. "Very well," he said. "You gambled everything on shaming the other banks into--"

  "A very safe bet," Basso said. "Also, it's a good loan, they'll be getting four per cent. I'm just sorry we'll miss out." He smiled, and said, "Admit it. I did all right."

  "That remains to be seen."

  "I did all right," Basso repeated, a little louder and slower. "The coined money isn't really the issue. In case you missed it, we've also given the government an unlimited line of credit in paper loans. Which means, of course, that we can lend the government as much as we like, at one per cent over base, for as long as we like. Now that," he added with relish, "is the sort of deal you dream about. Well?"

  Antigonus sighed. "That wasn't why you did it."

  "No. Does it matter?"

  "Tell me why you did it."

  "To save General Aelius' neck," Basso replied. "And mine too, I suppose. Will that do?"

  Antigonus looked at him. "That was the reason? Really?"

  Basso breathed out, long and slow. "I'd like to
give it a pretty name, like loyalty," he said. "Truth is, I tend to get used to having the same people round me. I was damned if a bunch of pirates was going to lose me my pet soldier. Besides which, I owe him."

  "Because of when your wife died."

  "Partly." Basso sat up in his chair. "But anyway," he said. "You asked, and I've told you. And you've got to say it out loud. I did all right."

  "You did all right."

  "Thank you."

  "Basso." Antigonus was looking straight at him. "We have a serious liquidity problem. You know we do."

  "I know," Basso said quietly. "And I'm going to do something about it, don't you fret. I don't know, though," he added, and for the first time since the news broke, he felt tired. "Maybe I should've seen it coming. All the world brings its gold here, to a shed in a yard in the middle of town, and we're surprised when thieves show up and rob us. Do you think I've been guilty of ordinary thinking?"

  Antigonus shook his head. "You can't think of everything."

  "Since when?"

  Inguiomera, second city of the Mavortine Confederacy, was at that time still little more than two rings of earth-and-turf ramparts around the top of a steep hill overlooking the mouth of the River Tiwas. Inside the inner ring, building was forbidden; the grassy plateau was kept clear to provide grazing for the flocks and herds of the Ingui people in the event of an attack. Between the rings, however, houses and other structures were beginning to sprout up, mostly for the use and convenience of foreign traders and the high-caste Mavortines who did business with them. The largest and most impressive building, designed and constructed by Auxentine contractors, was the Grand Lodge, where the tribes met once a year to resolve existing feuds and start new ones. There was a small and unpopular temple of the Invincible Sun, paid for by the Vesani Mission (stone-built and slate-roofed, for convenience of rebuilding every time it was burnt down). There was a market hall and a corn exchange, used only by foreigners; lodges for Sclerian, Auxentine and Vesani visitors; and a number of small shops and workshops, some of them used by Mavortines.