Read The Children of the Company Online
Authors: Kage Baker
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #C429, #Extratorrents, #Kat
The Children of the Company (18 page)
He had no difficulty with the mortals, either. In fact he went out of his way to make friends with Joost, who was charmed by him, and took him along on his horse-trading rounds. It’s always a good idea to have a mortal with you when you’re in one of their cities for the first time, I think, anyway. It helps you see it through their eyes.
When we went out shopping, Latif obligingly carried my basket and fan, and put up with all my mortal neighbors who came crowding to stare at him with the excuse that they had some really spicy gossip for me. And I can’t think he minded being told what an adorable little fellow he was, or having sugar rolls pressed into his free hand, though the cheek-pinching bothered him, but it would bother anybody. People don’t remember very well what it’s like to be children.
Actually I guess Latif didn’t remember much either, as sophisticated as he was. No, that can’t be quite true: there was a day when we were out on the Dam and he stared, fascinated, at a black mortal, a slave or servant probably, who was following behind his master. What a mortal he was, too! Gorgeous, with these long legs in thigh-high boots and his full white shirt with its lace collar open at the throat, skin like polished ebony, striding along in goodhumored arrogance, chatting with his master about the pistols they were on their way to buy.
He saw Latif staring at him and grinned hugely, such perfect white teeth, and winked. Latif caught his breath, I swear; and all the way home he was walking with the mortal’s long-legged stride, practicing that grace.
But that was about the only time I saw him being a little boy, which worried me. The rest of the time he was stone-cold serious and grimly determined to become the perfect operative. I’ve had trainee Facilitators in their twenties who weren’t as dedicated to learning their jobs. But then, Latif was special, wasn’t he? Or he’d still have been in the junior class at a Company training base somewhere, with other children his age.
He watched closely as I dealt with the everyday business of running the station: feeding operatives who dropped in at any hour of the day or night, seeing to it they were issued whatever field supplies they needed, and ordering anything we didn’t actually have on hand at the station. There was the
station budget to fight with, frantically thinking of ways to stretch it until the next fiscal quarter! There were couriers to greet, pouches to be signed for or sent on their way, dispatches to be transmitted; there were shipments to be received and sent of so many humdrum things that would become priceless over time.
station budget to fight with, frantically thinking of ways to stretch it until the next fiscal quarter! There were couriers to greet, pouches to be signed for or sent on their way, dispatches to be transmitted; there were shipments to be received and sent of so many humdrum things that would become priceless over time.
Who needed all those copies of the new London
Daily Courant
or the
Moskovskya Viedomosti?
What about all those Watteau and Rigaud paintings, who on Earth would want such sickly candy-box things? And the Pachelbel scores that the composer just happened to misplace, or those jottings by Hakuseki, would wealthy collectors really pay small fortunes for those in the future? It always amazes me, the garbage that time turns into gold; but, you know, that’s how the Company makes its money. If it keeps herring on my table (and makes me immortal, too!) who am I to raise an eyebrow?
Daily Courant
or the
Moskovskya Viedomosti?
What about all those Watteau and Rigaud paintings, who on Earth would want such sickly candy-box things? And the Pachelbel scores that the composer just happened to misplace, or those jottings by Hakuseki, would wealthy collectors really pay small fortunes for those in the future? It always amazes me, the garbage that time turns into gold; but, you know, that’s how the Company makes its money. If it keeps herring on my table (and makes me immortal, too!) who am I to raise an eyebrow?
And Latif learned quickly, he really was a brilliant little boy, and grasped very well the importance of interfacing with the mortal community, building relationships within it that we could use to the Company’s advantage and reinforcing the illusion that we were a perfectly (well, reasonably) normal mortal Amsterdam family. It helped, too, that I didn’t have to keep stopping his lessons to sweep or peel onions.
Yes! Margarite’s good mood didn’t last past the week of Kackerlackje’s departure, but she didn’t lapse into the usual pattern of headaches and diarrhea that made her unable to cope with daily routine. She went into a frenzy of activity instead. The house was as spotless as it’s ever been, meals were ready on time, and suddenly there was an airy, digestible quality to her cooking that made me realize that maybe it had been just a little heavy before.
Though when Eliphal stopped on the stairs to pay her a gallant compliment about the latest batch of
vleeskroketten,
she still glared at him. What was going on in her head? No use to ask Joost; when I brought up the subject he just shrugged and held out his hands, gesturing
How should I know?
Then he swung Latif up on his shoulders and they went out to watch ships being unloaded.
vleeskroketten,
she still glared at him. What was going on in her head? No use to ask Joost; when I brought up the subject he just shrugged and held out his hands, gesturing
How should I know?
Then he swung Latif up on his shoulders and they went out to watch ships being unloaded.
Summer ended, and the canals were pretty with drifting yellow leaves for a week or two before the cold set in. I had to order a new wardrobe for Latif, because he’d outgrown the furred jacket he’d brought from Mackenzie Base, so quickly was he beginning to shoot up. He was going to be tall and imposing, and I was glad for him. I don’t think he’d felt an Executive Facilitator
should be short and undignified. He prowled around the house for a couple of weeks wrapped in knitted shawls until his new coat arrived.
should be short and undignified. He prowled around the house for a couple of weeks wrapped in knitted shawls until his new coat arrived.
He was bundled up like that the morning I rose early and came down to find him sitting at my credenza, with his little fingers pattering away at the keyboard rapid-fire-speed.
“Good morning!” he greeted me pleasantly, glancing up. “I woke up early and I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I just thought I’d check your mail for you.”
“Oh,” I said, yawning. “Did I have any?”
“Yes.” He indicated a stack of printouts as he closed and shut down the credenza. “The usual things. Answers to queries, priority orders, directives. I’ve sorted them for you in order of importance. I hope I wasn’t presuming?”
“No, no, you need to learn this stuff, after all,” I replied, sitting down beside him and flipping through the printouts. He really had prioritized them, too; I was quite impressed. “This is great! Gosh, you’re a quick study, Latif.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he replied graciously. “And actually, I was wondering: in view of the rapid progress I’m making, do you suppose it’s time I was fast-tracked?”
“Fast-tracked?” I looked up from the printouts to stare at him.
“Accelerated,” he explained. “My educational schedule revised to send me on to Eurobase One ahead of the originally estimated date. What do you think? Would you be receptive to the idea?”
“Oh, I don’t know, sweetie,” I told him dubiously. “Shouldn’t you have some childhood? I mean, look at you! You’ve still got your baby teeth, and you’re out in the field already. Don’t you think you’ve been fast-tracked enough as it is?”
He watched me intently as I answered him, and I was half afraid he’d get angry; but he just nodded and made a dismissive gesture.
“You’re right, of course,” he said at once. “I’ll bow to your judgment. I’m undoubtedly not as proficient at this yet as I think I am.”
And I was so impressed by the gracious way he took my refusal that I hastened to reassure him about what a little genius he was.
Well, I was right about his being a genius.
Snow fell one morning, and all the muck froze so that the view from the parlor window was just like a postcard, and the houses across the canal were all frosted with white. Really it was perfect weather for curling up beside the
window with a nice cup of hot chocolate, but we’d run out; everyone had been craving Theobromos desperately lately, for some reason. It was too early in the day to get blitzed anyhow, and I had work to do.
window with a nice cup of hot chocolate, but we’d run out; everyone had been craving Theobromos desperately lately, for some reason. It was too early in the day to get blitzed anyhow, and I had work to do.
I admired the snowy scene for a few minutes before settling down at my credenza to check my incoming dispatches, sipping my coffee meditatively. I liked this time of the morning, before the rest of the household was awake, when I usually had some peace and quiet.
The first blast in my little symphony of horror was a communication from Verpoorten in the Brussels office complaining about Johan. Not Johan exactly; Verpoorten said he was an able enough Botanist, though I’d been a little mistaken about what his specialties were when I recommended him for transfer to their gardens project, and right there warning bells began to ring in my head. I hadn’t recommended him! He’d been requested, hadn’t he? But I read on, appalled.
It seemed that Kackerlackje was making himself just as inconvenient at Brussels HQ as he had in my house, and Verpoorten was a lot less inclined to cope with him. He had had to give Johan an ultimatum, apparently. The dog had to go. Johan had acquiesced in tears, but only on the condition that dear little Kackerlackje be sent back to me, since Johan knew I loved him as much as he did and moreover had always looked after his precarious health like a loving mother.
Boy, there aren’t words to describe my consternation. Some Executive Facilitators I know would just give the damn dog all the paint he could eat and then send him diving tied to a rock, but I’m nice, you know? I was so upset I put the communication aside without sending a reply and went into my fiscal file. I’d buy something, that would take my mind off my troubles! Time to order new components for the document scanner, yes, Diego had reminded me about that only yesterday, and Lievens wanted another shipment of red oak for cabinets.
What a surprise I got when my credenza informed me I had insufficient funds for the transaction …
Thinking of course that there must be some mistake, I checked my budget balance, and then I got a real surprise.
This has happened to you, right? So you know that after the first frantic denial a sort of icy numbness sets in and you settle down to go over the books
with a fine-toothed comb, determined to find the mistake. That’s what I was doing when the knock came on the door.
with a fine-toothed comb, determined to find the mistake. That’s what I was doing when the knock came on the door.
Too much to expect that Margarite would answer it, of course. God forbid she should actually do her job or anything like that. As the knock was repeated a little more loudly I rose to get it, scanning irritably for where in the house Margarite had got to. There was her heartbeat, coming from her bedroom, and some other sounds as well … oh, dear, was she throwing up? No wonder she hadn’t lit the fires or started breakfast yet. I’d have to do, it, of course—
My annoyance at this fled right out of my mind when I opened the door and beheld my two visitors.
Quite an elegant-looking lady and gentleman, as much as you could see of them for the furred coats in which they were bundled up. They were both immortals, too.
“Executive Facilitator Van Drouten, I presume?” inquired the gentleman. “May we have a moment of your time?”
So of course I invited them in off the stoop, and settled them in the parlor while I excused myself a moment and ran off to grab Lisette, who was just coming downstairs, and asked her to go see what the matter was with Margarite, and see if Joost couldn’t be prevailed upon to light the fires so we wouldn’t all freeze? Then I found a bottle of gin and three glasses and brought them out to my guests.
They were even more elegant out of their coats, quite exotic-looking, too, for all that they were dressed in perfect up-to-the-minute Continental fashions. The man had been Incan or Aztec or one of those originally; he had the copper skin and the gloomy sneering dignity. The lady had white skin, green eyes, hair like a raven’s wing, a real stunner if she hadn’t had such a disagreeable look on her face. So had the man, actually. But they both smiled politely as I poured them gin and asked how I could help them.
“You’re too kind,” the man said, hooding his eyes. “May I introduce myself? I am Security Technical Sixteen Turtle and this is my associate, Botanist Smythe. We’re presently stationed at New World One.”
“My gosh, what a long way to come,” I exclaimed, offering them both their gin. They accepted the glasses but did not drink.
“Oh, we arrived by air transport,” Sixteen Turtle said, turning the stem of
his glass between his fingers. “We don’t expect to be away long.” And then he transmitted subvocally:
It’s my hope we can resolve this issue quickly, to our mutual satisfaction.
his glass between his fingers. “We don’t expect to be away long.” And then he transmitted subvocally:
It’s my hope we can resolve this issue quickly, to our mutual satisfaction.
I didn’t know what to make of this, because usually the only time we need to speak to each other subvocally is when we don’t want the mortals to hear us speaking out loud, and there were no mortals within earshot. But I gamely transmitted:
Gee, I hope so, too.
Gee, I hope so, too.
“Amsterdam is truly lovely at this time of year,” Smythe told me graciously, though she was looking daggers at me.
May I begin by assuring you that we feel competition is a good thing, generally?
May I begin by assuring you that we feel competition is a good thing, generally?
That’s nice
, I transmitted back, and out loud I said: “How nice to hear someone say so! Usually all people ever want to see are tulips, tulips, tulips, you know, and of course they don’t bloom at this time of year …”
, I transmitted back, and out loud I said: “How nice to hear someone say so! Usually all people ever want to see are tulips, tulips, tulips, you know, and of course they don’t bloom at this time of year …”
“Yes, I was aware of that,” Smythe replied, and I remembered she was a Botanist and felt silly.
Competition
, transmitted Sixteen Turtle,
can actually stimulate business. And in a global market, there are certainly enough potential customers for everyone.
, transmitted Sixteen Turtle,
can actually stimulate business. And in a global market, there are certainly enough potential customers for everyone.
What, for tulips? I responded. My God, don’t invest in bulbs! Don’t you know what happened last time? The bottom fell out of the market and
—But from their offended expressions I could tell I was off the mark somehow.
—But from their offended expressions I could tell I was off the mark somehow.
Could you come to the point, please?
I transmitted, just as Lisette came running back downstairs.
I transmitted, just as Lisette came running back downstairs.
“Van Drouten? I don’t think Margarite should get up today—” she blurted, and then noticed I had guests who were glaring at me strangely. “And I’ll—just tell you about it later, okay?”
“Please do,” I snapped, “and you might suggest to Joost that he deal with her in the meantime.”
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