The Revolution Trade (Merchant Princes Omnibus 3) (12 page)

‘But – ’ Brill stopped. ‘Why?’

‘No politics, remember?’ Miriam twitched. ‘If Angbard’s ill, we can’t risk being too far away. But what’s really important – Huw, I want you to tell me
all about how you went about probing that new world. Because I think once everyone gets past running around and being worried about the pretender, we are really going to need to work out how to
open up new worlds.’

‘Eh?’ Brilliana stared at her. ‘I don’t see why that’s a priority right now.’

Miriam sighed heavily and pushed her glass away. ‘It wouldn’t be, if we were just up against another bunch of upstart aristocrats, or if the US government were entirely reliant on
captured couriers. Huw, why don’t you tell her about what we were discussing earlier?’

‘The, uh, wild speculation?’

‘Yes, that. I’m tired, I don’t want to repeat myself, and I think she needs to know.’ She stood up and stretched. ‘I’m going to catch a nap. Call me if
anything happens.’

*

Despite the summer heat, the sky was overcast and gray; it was threatening to rain as Dr. James led Colonel Smith around the side of the big top. Two minders followed at a
discreet distance. ‘How certain are you that the bad guys are on the other side of that siege tower?’

Eric gave it scant seconds of consideration. ‘Very. They wouldn’t have come out here and stuck a couple of hundred assets in a field under our nose without an extremely urgent
motivation. These people aren’t into cat-and-mouse games – they’ve been staying under cover very carefully until now. This has got all the signs of an emergency operation, and we
disturbed them in the middle of it. That map alone, that’s dynamite. And it checks out: The scaffolding is right in the middle of what looks like a major fortification in their
world.’

Dr. James halted – so fast that Eric nearly stumbled. ‘Good!’ A curious half-smile played around his lips. ‘Then I’ve got a solution for you, son.’

‘A – ’ Eric did a double take. ‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s a political problem.’ James began walking again, more slowly this time. ‘We want to send them a
message
. They think they can play with us. They stole six
nukes from the inactive inventory. The message we have been instructed to send is, “If you play with us we will mess you up.” If I wasn’t a man of faith I’d be using the
f-word, Colonel. We want to send them a message and we want to underline
don’t f– with us
in blood.’

‘In my experience,’ Eric commented, feeling light-headed, ‘messages signed in blood ought to be delivered in a way that ensures the recipients don’t live long enough to
read them. Anything else is asking for trouble.’

‘Spoken like a flyboy at heart. You’re absolutely right. Nuke ’em ’til they glow, then shoot ’em in the dark.’ Eric stared at him until he nodded.
‘That’s a direct quote from the vice president, son. Although
he
probably lifted it from someone else.’

‘That puts an interesting light on things,’ Eric agreed, slightly aghast. The Secret Service’s code name for Mr. Cheney, DADDY WAR-BUCKS, was also a comment on his
neoconservative leanings, but such bloodthirsty words coming from the executive branch were somewhat surprising, even post-9/11.

‘So he’s getting you a piece of paper on the White House blotter,’ Dr. James continued blandly, ‘ordering you to take control of the gadget retrieved from Government
Center and to, ah,
return
it to the person or persons who so carelessly left it under the Blue Line platform with
extreme
prejudice.’

But!
Smith’s tongue froze. ‘But!’ He tried again. It came out as almost a squeak. ‘We don’t have nuclear release authority, we’re not in the chain of
command, you can’t
do
that – ’

‘Son.’ James’s smile turned icy. ‘They stole
six
of them. The United States
does not give in to nuclear blackmail
. Never mind that it would be
embarrassing
to return it to inventory, admitting on the record that it went walkies on our watch; they stole it, so you are going to shove it up their, their behind, so hard they can
taste
it. It’s the perfect solution. It’s completely deniable: They stole it, it went off in their hands. And it sends the right message. Mess with us and we will hurt you. And
besides – ’ He slid his spectacles down his nose and pulled out a cleaning cloth. ‘Mr. Cheney is
real keen
to make sure the FADMs work as designed. We haven’t had a
chance to test these gadgets since the Test Ban Treaty came in – but as the Attorney General notes, it only bans us from testing nuclear devices in
this
universe. And Major Alvarez
knows how to use them. He
is
part of the chain, and he’s seconded to us. He knows what the score is. Why do you think we’ve been recruiting so widely . . . and
selectively?’

‘Okay,’ Eric said thoughtfully. ‘I follow the logic.’ He paused. ‘But how are we going to deliver it? We’ve only got two mules.’ He left unspoken the
corollary:
Are you willing to let me strap an atomic device on a timer to a captured Clan courier who hates our guts?
It would violate so many protocols that the stack of charges would be
higher than the Washington Monument.

‘Well now.’ James stopped smiling. ‘You remember your little visit out west? They got Preparation Fifteen working. I’m having one of them flown out here right now –
this will be its first deployment.’

‘Wait.’ Eric raised a hand. ‘Preparation Fifteen? I only saw number twelve. The, the disappearing tissue.’ Tissue harvested from the brain of a captured Clan member
– God only knew what had happened to the donor because Eric certainly didn’t want to. ‘Is Fifteen what I think it is?’

‘Yes. Push the button, watch the black box vanish. Along with whatever it’s bolted to, as long as it’s in a conductive sack and is isolated from earth. It’s single-use,
unfortunately; it has to be assembled by hand and lasts for about sixteen hours. But during that time – ’

‘Have you tried bolting one to an airframe?’ Eric asked. ‘Sorry.’

‘Good question. We’d need two – one for the return trip – and they’re not that reliable yet, but it’s on the road map. You can test fly the helicopter if you
want.’ James noticed Eric’s expression. ‘That was a joke, son, you’re not expendable.’

‘I’m not licensed for choppers,’ Smith muttered, under his breath.
Just in case you get any crazy ideas
. ‘So how are we going to deliver the, the physics
package?’

‘The usual way.’ James started walking again; they were almost round the circumference of the big top, the awning just in view around the curve of its flank. ‘Written orders
are coming down from the White House; it’s WARBUCK’s toy, but he’s gotten the President to sign off on it, and we’re – well, certain of the Joint Chiefs have been
briefed about the PINNACLE BROKEN ARROW and it’s been made clear to them that this is necessary. I gather they’ve even gotten Chief Justice Bork on board. You’ll use your man Rand
and his crew to prepare the gadget, they’re already cleared. They’ll hand it and the timer controller to Major Alvarez and Captain Hu, who have orders to put a timer controller on it,
set to detonate sixty seconds after activation. It’s tamperproof; any attempt to disarm it other than by using the code-wheel to enter the locking key will make it detonate, but they’ll
have the key to hand just in case.
You
will bolt the Preparation Fifteen unit to the detonation sequencer and put the gadget on top of the, the siege tower. You and the major will start the
sequencer, push the button on the transport unit to send it across. If the transport unit fails, you can enter the disarm code and try again later. If it succeeds . . . it’s
their
problem. May they burn in hell for making us do this,’ he added quietly.

To a soldier in an army dependent on muscle power, there are few sights as grim as a fortress occupied by an enemy force standing squarely in the line of advance.

The Hjalmar Palace was palatial only on the inside: Squatting behind ominous earthworks at the fork of a major river, the face it presented to the world at large was eyeless and intimidating,
scarred by cannon and fire. The merchant clan barons who had reinforced and extended the revetments around the central keep over the past fifty years had not been as parochial as their backwoodsman
cousins. They’d scoured the historical archives of the Boston Public Library, keeping a wary eye on the royal army’s ironworks and the forging of their great siege bombards. Behind the
outer wet moat and its fortified gatehouse, beyond the flat killing ground of the apron, the stone walls of the castle sank below ground level; backed by rammed earth to absorb the blows of any
cannon balls that might make it over the rim, the glacis rose harsh and steep, fronted by a deep dry moat.

It had taken treachery to get Otto’s men into the palace the first time round, using a shortcut revealed under duress by one of the residents. He’d been in the process of installing
defenses against the inevitable world-walking attempt to retake the complex, but the Clan had struck back with astonishing speed and terrifying force – a far cry from their dilatory
defensiveness when outlying estates and villages were picked off.
They weren’t really exerting themselves until we threatened their fortresses instead of their farms
, Otto mused. It
was an unpleasant realization. His defenses hadn’t been ready; they’d driven him out and he still didn’t know for sure precisely where they’d flooded back into the building
from. But if nothing else, at least now he had a map of the internal layout. In principle that should make things easier. In practice –

He lowered his binoculars, then looked back. The fortress was still there, looming in the east, mocking him.
Your bones at my feet
, it was saying.
Your blood: my mortar
.

A loud
crack!
caught his attention. Behind the line, the royal artillery’s light cannon began to fire, deep-throated coughs that spat clouds of smoke and sparks as they threw cold
iron at the gatehouse. Stone chips flew, but the gatehouse was, itself, a castle in miniature, and beyond it the drawbridge across the wet moat and the sunken road allowed the defenders to
reinforce it at need. The range was almost half a mile: The bombardment wouldn’t do much save to make the defenders keep their heads down. But that was better than nothing, Otto supposed.
That, and the king’s plan – if it worked – might get them close enough to the defenses to at least have a chance. And if the king’s plan didn’t work . . .
At least
we’ve got an entire army
, he told himself. Scant comfort, looking up at those ramparts.

Otto turned back to the clump of men waiting behind him. ‘Tomorrow the king’s going to reduce the gatehouse,’ he announced. ‘Then it’s right on to the castle. But
we’ve got an easy job to do. Once Raeder’s men finish moving the ammunition up, we’re to advance behind the vanguard and keep the witches’ heads down.’ He looked his
men in their eyes. ‘There will be
no
indiscriminate firing.’ Not like the day before yesterday, when his undertrained men had burned through crates of priceless ammunition and
wrecked a pair of irreplaceable M60 barrels. ‘There will be no damaged guns. If any man wrecks a witch-gun barrel by firing too fast, I’ll forge it to red-heat and beat him to death
with it. And there will be no casualties, if I have any say in the matter.’ He assayed a thin smile. His hetmen had been quietly gloomy, a minute ago; now they visibly cheered up. ‘The
other side’s to do the dying today. We’ll just stay nice and safe in the rear, and rain on the enemy battlements with lead.’

‘Aye!’ Shutz knew his cue, and put his leathery lungs into it. The sergeants and hetmen, not to mention the sprinkling of hedge-knights who’d joined his banner out of hope of
self-enrichment, joined in enthusiastically.

‘To your men, then, and let them know,’ Otto said, allowing himself to relax slightly. ‘I will make an inspection round in the next hour, and give you your disposition before
we advance, an hour before sunset.’

*

Night fell heavy on the castle walls, illuminated by the slow lightning of the field cannon and the thunder that echoed in reply, and the moans of the victims, growing weaker
now. Olga stared from a darkened window casement, following the action around the base of the gatehouse, picked out in the livid green of night-vision goggles. ‘The stupid,
stupid
bastards,’ she hissed.

Behind her, Baron Oliver cleared his throat. The distant sounds of preparations, banging and scraping and swearing, carried through the door from the grand hall. ‘As long as the
Pervert’s troops think we’re heavily invested, and unable to move . . .’

‘But the waste! Lightning Child strike him blind.’ Olga was not prone to fits of unreasoning rage. Bright, hot anger was no stranger; but it passed rapidly, and she knew better than
to let it rule her. But what the king had done outside the barred gate of the moat house was something else.
It’s a deliberate provocation
, she told herself.
He doesn’t want
or expect our surrender, so he thinks to unhinge us
. And he was certainly trying hard. No one sane would have wasted noble prisoners as he had done, crucifying them outside the gatehouse,
forgoing all hope of ransom and calling down eternal blood feud from their surviving relatives.

‘Carl will deal with him tomorrow, I am sure,’ Oliver declared, although whether he was being patronizing towards her age and status, or merely ironically detached, Olga was unsure.
‘Tonight we have other work.’

‘Indeed.’ Olga lowered her goggles and switched them off, blinking at the twilight.

‘Meanwhile, Earl Riordan sent his compliments, and would like to know what additional resources you need to move the duke, and when you’ll be ready.’

Since when is he employing
you
as a messenger boy?
Olga stepped aside from the window and turned to face him. ‘I’ve got a corpsman and two soldiers, one to do the
portage and one secondary bodyguard; between them they’re a stretcher team. That’s plenty until we get to the crossover point. What I then need is for Grieffen or whoever’s in
Central Ops to arrange to have a secure ambulance waiting for us in Concord at zero four hundred hours, and I need their cell number so I can guide them in when we cross over.’ She patted her
belt. ‘I’ve got a GPS unit and a phone. We’ll travel with everyone else as far as the drop zone then continue on a little further before we go back to the United States.’ It
wasn’t the entire truth – and not just because she didn’t trust the Baron. Oliver was trustworthy after his own fashion; but his loyalty was to his conception of the Clan, not to
Olga’s faction. He didn’t have any need to know the details, and Olga wasn’t inclined to take even the remotest of risks with the duke’s personal security.