But if the duties he was asked to perform seemed odd, what was odder was the interest in his non-existent sister evinced by the Directeur of the Bureau de Feux d’Artifice. This Alain Brun item – a skinny, nervous individual – seemed obsessed with this mythical creature. On his first day on the job, the man must have approached him at least six times to enquire how Rivets’s sister was, when she would be recovered from her illness, and if it would be appropriate for him to visit her to offer his solicitations. Even Rivets’s evasive answers hadn’t dampened the man’s enthusiasm, and as the days had gone by, his questioning had become even more persistent and fervent.
Rivets was just enjoying a fag when a steamer arrived at the foot of the Tower and a man, who looked suspiciously like Burlesque Bandstand wearing a wig and a pus-green mask, hopped down from the cabin to seek out Monsieur Brun. It was not a happy meeting, and what followed was a pantomime of gestures and stamping of feet (from Monsieur Brun) and the waving of official-looking papers (by Burlesque). But after much heated debate, it was Monsieur Brun who capitulated. He glanced around, and his eye settled on Rivets.
‘Robert,’ he yelled.
Rivets took a moment to register that he was being summoned by his working name. He swung himself down to the ground, untethered the rope and trotted over to Monsieur Brun, touching the peak of his cap as he went.
‘Robert, as you are the only worker I ’ave’oo speaks the perfect Anglo, you are to ’elp this mens, ’oo is the representative of the ForthRight Ministry of Propaganda, to unload the fireworks they carries in the back of ’is steamer. It would appear that our ForthRight amis are of the unconfidence regarding the ability of the Bureau de Feux d’Artifice to make the spectacle magnifique.’ A sniff from Monsieur Brun. ‘They wish to supplement our efforts with four devices of their own. Monsieur Bartholomew Bubble ’ere will instruct you as to where those devices must be placed.’ Monsieur Brun gave ‘Monsieur Bubble’ a dismissive glance. ‘However, Robert, if you have any of the big doubts, please speak to me and I will give you my own suggestions as to where Monsieur Bubble might place ’is fireworks.’
So, for the next hour, Rivets had the back-breaking job of lugging the four packages very, very carefully out of the steamer and over to the base of the Awful Tower, where ‘Monsieur Bubble’ positioned one at the bottom of each of the four supporting piers. Rivets felt so knackered at the end of it that when Burlesque carefully – very, very fucking carefully – attached the fuses to the fireworks, he had real trouble in remembering which was which. All he knew was that the fuses to the right-hand pillars should be lit first, and the fuses to the left-hand ones should be lit five seconds later. In the end it was Burlesque who volunteered to haul the fuses over to the Chef de Batterie – the man responsible for igniting the fireworks in the correct order – and to give the firing sequence.
When they’d finished, Burlesque seemed very happy with himself. He even bought Rivets a pint to celebrate, though Rivets wasn’t quite sure what it was that Burlesque was so keen on celebrating.
33
Paris
The Demi-Monde: 50th Day of Spring, 1005
Such were the depleted blood reserves of the ForthRight that for a moment in Spring 1005 the Sector’s currency appeared about to crash and hyper-inflation cripple the economy. It was Comrade Commissar Horatio Bottomley who saved the ForthRight’s bacon. It was Bottomley who, by the use of inspired financial legerdemain, conjured the RentenGuinea from thin air. The RentenGuinea was not backed by blood – as the Guinea had been – but by mortgages on Sector-owned land and property and by bonds underpinned by ForthRight-based plant and machinery. A chimera this backing might have been, but it steadied the markets and allowed Heydrich enough time and wherewithal to develop his V-weapons and to attack the Coven.
A History of ForthRight Finance:
John Maynard Keynes, ForthRight Publishing
12.30: The office of Vice-Leader Beria in the Élysée Palace
Commissar Peter Havelock – the Checkya officer in charge of Counter-Intelligence in the Medi and Officer Commanding Security at the Ceremony of Unification – was grateful that officers in Counter-Intelligence wore brown uniforms. He had never seen Vice-Leader Beria so agitated, and an agitated Beria scared the shit out of him. The bastard sat behind his desk evincing all the serenity of an unexploded bomb.
‘Are all our troops inside Paris?’ Beria asked suddenly.
‘About half, Comrade Vice-Leader. There have been some difficulties in securing coal for the steamers needed to transport them and their equipment. The Frogs have taken to hiding it.’
‘Hiding it?’
‘Yes, the Frog merchants began by refusing to accept ForthRight guineas in payment for the coal, as they claimed our currency is devaluing too fast. And then, when the Coven’s coal embargo was announced, they said that the price we were offering didn’t reflect the true value of such a “scarce commodity”. After that, supplies just seemed to vanish.’
Beria let out a long, exasperated sigh, as he struggled with the idea that coal stocks could ‘vanish’. ‘Have you tried making an example of these Enemies of the Revolution?’
‘I have had a hundred of them hanged. The problem I face is that if I hang any more of the bastards, there’ll be no one left to unload what little coal there is.’ Havelock waited a moment to let Beria absorb this depressing fact of life. The Vice-Leader’s penchant for stringing up anyone he thought to be impeding the Occupation was nigh on out of control. There were at least five thousand of the poor sods decorating the Champs-Élysées already. ‘The upshot, Comrade Vice-Leader, is that half of our steamer regiments are marooned in the Hub, waiting for supplies of coal to be carted in from the ForthRight.’
Havelock saw Beria’s dead eyes flick towards the calendar on his desk, doing the same thing Havelock himself did every morning: calculating the number of days remaining until ThawsDay, the sixtieth day of Spring, the day on which the Hub nanoBites woke from their hibernation. Any steamer crews caught in the Hub on ThawsDay had better be able to levitate.
Beria took a moment to light a cigarette, and Havelock was amazed to see his hand tremble slightly as he did so. Things must really be bad if the normally imperturbable Lavrentii Beria was so upset.
‘The important question, Comrade Commissar, is if there will be sufficient coal to allow the armoured steamers to parade on Unification Day. Comrade Leader Heydrich considers it essential that there is an appropriate display of ForthRight military might on the glorious day when the Medi is officially absorbed into the ForthRight. He believes that such a display will do much to persuade the population of the Medi that their idiotic espousal of Normalism is futile. They will come to understand that the ultimate victory of the ForthRight and the triumph of UnFunDaMentalism is ordained by ABBA Himself.’
So, it was the antics of these Normalists which was perturbing the Vice-Leader! But Havelock supposed there was a lot to be perturbed about. The Normalists had appeared out of nowhere and had succeeded in totally disrupting the functioning of the Medi. But what was worse, it was a political movement that appeared to be growing stronger by the hour. Aaliz Heydrich had proven herself to be as adept a leader as her father.
‘There are still ten days remaining until Unification Day, Comrade Vice-Leader, so rest assured that the Army of the ForthRight will be parading in its full strength.’
‘Is everything else in order regarding the preparations for the Ceremony of Unification?’ Beria demanded.
‘Absolutely, Comrade Vice-Leader,’ replied Havelock. Not that there was any way he would have replied to the contrary. He was no fool. ‘We have supervised the building of the VIP stand that will accommodate the two hundred and fifty dignitaries invited to the ceremony. I have searched it myself, and it is now under twenty-four-hour guard. It is impossible that any malcontent will be able to place a bomb under it or anywhere near it.’
‘Assassins?’
‘All VIP attendees have been requested not
to wear swords and firearms and each has been issued with an invitation which my officers will scrutinise before they are permitted to take their places on the stand. As for a sniper using a rifle from distance, we have cleared and occupied all possible vantage points surrounding the Champ de Mars.’
‘The crowd?’
‘The crowd will be confined to the edges of the Champ de Mars, where they will enjoy an excellent view of the festivities, but will come no closer than fifty yards from the VIP stand. I have requested Senior CitiZen Robespierre to provide the names of pro-UnFunDaMentalist groups, and these will be positioned nearest the stand. I will have five hundred plain-clothes Checkya agents mingling with the crowd, looking out for terrorists, and five thousand uniformed Checkya officers nearby, in case of … difficulties.’
Havelock checked his notebook. ‘We have rounded up all known dissidents – Normalists, UnScrewed-Liberationists, and diehard ImPuritans – and placed them in protective custody in the Bastille, where they will be shot.’
‘Excellent. So what is the programme of events celebrating the Ceremony of Unification?’
‘Departing at four o’clock in the afternoon from the Élysée Palace, there will be a triumphant cavalcade through the streets of Paris where the Great Leader and yourself, as well as representatives of the Medi Senate and of the ForthRight government, will be cheered by the people of the Medi in a spontaneous demonstration of love and thanks for their delivery from the evil embrace of ImPuritanism. Members of the ForthRight Army, uniformed as Medi infantry, will line the street to ensure there are no demonstrations of dissent. The cavalcade will consist of ten steamers with cavalry escort. You, Comrade Vice-Leader, accompanied by Senior CitiZen Robespierre, will be in the first steamer accompanying Great Leader Heydrich. Comrade General Skobelev and Senator Torquemada will be in the second.’
‘Torquemada’s wound?’
‘He has been persuaded to abandon the sling. There will thus be no evidence of unfortunate events that occurred when the Bastille was stormed.’
‘Good. And security during the cavalcade?’
‘The steamers will be discreetly armoured and hence utterly impervious to attack by handguns or grenades. Each steamer will be flanked by hussars of the Reinhard Heydrich’s Own cavalry regiment.’
‘Good.’
‘Once at the Champ de Mars – or the Champ de l’Union, as it is to be renamed – there will take place a series of events and pageants: marching by the Heydrich Guards regiment, dancing by the ForthRight Ballet company, and the popular French singer Maurice Chevalier will give a rendition of patriotic songs.’
‘Patriotic songs?’
‘They have been carefully vetted for anti-revolutionary sentiments, and censored accordingly, Comrade Vice-Leader. He will sing three songs, each a harmless piece of puff in praise of love and young women, of whom Monsieur Chevalier seems inordinately fond. Then there will be two speeches. The first will be given by the Great Leader, pledging the ForthRight to defend the Medi from the enemies of peace and freedom, and committing the ForthRight to helping the Medi resist the evil of non-UnFunDaMentalist thought. The second will be made by Senior CitiZen Robespierre …’ Havelock hesitated for a moment.
‘There is a problem?’
‘Senior CitiZen Robespierre is reluctant to take the advice of the Checkya propaganda section regarding both the content and most especially the length of his speech. He seems to be of the opinion that, being Senior CitiZen, he has some sort of power to overrule our suggestions. When I pointed out that his was a titular office, he became somewhat agitated.’
‘Fuck him. Is there anything incendiary about his speech?’
‘Not per se, Comrade Vice-Leader, but it is very pompous and very boring. And I have had to insist that his condemnation of the nuJus be made more vehement.’
‘Then it seems perfect. The people will understand that their current leadership is overblown and incompetent, whereas their new masters aren’t. The Great Leader’s speech, by comparison, will be remembered as a masterpiece of brevity and efficiency. So, after the speeches, what then?’
‘Senior CitiZen Robespierre will request the unification of the Medi with the ForthRight and together he and the Great Leader will sign the Declaration of Unification. Then, in a symbolic act, the Senior CitiZen will hand over the three keys of the city-states of Paris, Barcelona and Rome, which you, Vice-Leader, as Head of the Provisional Government of the Free UnFunDaMentalist Medi, will accept into your safe keeping. The Great Leader will then announce that henceforth the Medi is officially part of the ForthRight. As these words are spoken, the Awful Tower, now renamed the Reinhard Heydrich Tower, will be festooned in a display of pyrotechnics never before equalled in the history of the Demi-Monde. It will be a fireworks display seen throughout the Quartier Chaud and will serve as a beacon proclaiming the unassailable power and strength of the ForthRight.’
‘Are the fireworks safe?’
‘We have employed the Medi’s leading manufacturer of fireworks, the Bureau de Feux d’Artifice. They are a very reliable company. Their installation is now complete, and the Tower itself is under twenty-four-hour guard.’
‘Excellent, Comrade Commissar, it appears you have displayed your customary organisational diligence, and be assured that, if these events proceed as flawlessly as you have related, you will be appropriately rewarded.’
A hugely relieved Commissar Havelock saluted, spun on his heel and marched out of Beria’s office. He had a lot to do and a lot of things to double-check. It was one thing to be rewarded if things went well, but it would be quite another to be rewarded if things went badly.
12.45: The Pons Fabricus
Captain Jeremiah Greene watched as the ForthRight Corps of Engineers tried – very carefully – to ease the first of the gigantic Krupp mortars across the Pons Fabricus. It was a delicate job, as each of the mortars, designed specially to pummel Venice to powder, weighed over twenty tons. Although Captain Greene, as the officer in charge of the operation, had had the foresight to consult with a construction engineer, Comrade Engineer-Captain Banks, before commencing the crossing, and although said construction engineer had confirmed – in writing – that he believed the bridge would take the weight, the groans and the creaks he could hear did not fill Greene with confidence.
Inch by inch, the first of the mortars was hauled onto the bridge. Of course, the weight of the gun was compounded by the weight of the huge steamer-crawler necessary to pull the thing and as he stood at the end of the span, watching as the steamer-crawler crept along, dragging the trailer bearing the Krupps mortar behind it, Greene found himself praying more fervently than he had ever prayed before. He knew that the alternative route to Venice was even more challenging, especially as it would necessitate traversing the HubLand. There might be ten days still to go before ThawsDay, but the men stationed in the Hub were already getting nervous.
And Greene fully understood their nervousness. The rumour circulating throughout the army was that the enormous weight of the steamer-crawlers plus the mortars they were dragging would gouge ruts so deep into the Hub’s surface that the nanoBites would be brought out of their hibernation prematurely. The men were getting what the army called ‘Nibblers Feet’.
‘We’ve reached the middle of the bridge,’ Greene heard Comrade Engineer-Captain Banks murmur. ‘Once we’re over this bit …’
Greene raised his telescope and studied the driver of the steamer-crawler. As far as he could see through the thick haze of steam that shrouded the vehicle, the man was doing exactly as he had been ordered, bringing the crawler and its cargo across the bridge smoothly and slowly. For the first time that morning, he felt almost optimistic.
Greene’s optimism was incredibly short-lived. Suddenly there was the ear-splitting scream of steel scraping on steel, a loud bang of snapping cables, and a ping as a foot-long rivet whizzed past his ear. Then slowly – majestically almost – the steamer-crawler lurched to one side as the bridge buckled beneath
it and then plunged into the Thames.
‘Those Normalist bastards must have sabotaged the bolts holding the bridge together,’ someone gasped.
As a pall of steam rose from the hissing wreck, the living corpse that was Comrade Engineer-Captain Banks vomited over the side of the bridge. Greene ignored him, lost in thought as he tried to remember whether he’d packed his platform-soled anti-Nibbler boots. He had an awful feeling he was going to need them.
13.00: The docks along the Quai d’Orsay
Odette Aroca had never felt quite so proud or important in the whole of her life. But there was more to it than that, she felt fulfilled. Here she was leading a group – well, more than a group actually, since there were at least three or four hundred Normalists making up the crowd marching slowly behind her – of like-minded people determined to do everything in their power to peaceably resist the forces of oppression and violence.
And if the amount of abuse currently being showered on her and her fellow demonstrators by the drivers of the ForthRight convoy they were holding up was any indication, then these tactics were proving very effective indeed. For about the fifth time in as many minutes, the red-coated sergeant in charge of the convoy came over to parley with Odette.
Rod Rees - [The Demi-Monde 02] Page 37