Midnight Harvest

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “Hardly,” said Saint-Germain. “The streets are properly paved, for one thing. And the houses are better heated.”

  “I’ll give you those points.” Rogerio made a gesture of acknowledgment, adding, “The last half-hour, I thought we’d take a fatal skid for certain.”

  Saint-Germain shook his head. “The auto is well-designed. We weren’t in any real danger, except perhaps from other vehicles.” He patted the roof of the Minerva in much the same way he might have done to a strong horse. “We had nothing to fear: not on the roads, in any case; there may have been other dangers, of course,” he said wryly, pulling the brim of his hat down to protect his eyes from the icy rain.

  Rogerio assumed this was an oblique reference to the unpleasant second interview Saint-Germain had had with Colonel Senda four days ago, when the officer had again called at the Hotel della Luna Nueva without warning for another so-called discussion of Saint-Germain’s equivocal circumstances; Rogerio had heard the Colonel’s harangue two rooms away from him, and had noticed that Saint-Germain was not eager to discuss what had transpired. He came around the front of the auto and started toward the main entrance of the Eclipse Aeroplano Industrias office building, a large structure only four years old, a masterpiece of contemporary style in glass and brushed aluminum. Two long car parks flanked the building, and a broad road led to the more utilitarian assembly plants behind the office edifice. “I’ll come back and move into one of the parks when you’ve gone inside. Would you prefer the east or west side?”

  “No need,” said Saint-Germain. “Our followers know where we are. We might as well accommodate them. Leave the Minerva where it is.”

  “If you like,” said Rogerio, stepping up to the thick glass doors with a four-foot-high rendition of Saint-Germain’s eclipse acid-etched to center on the opening. He grabbed the brushed aluminum handle, glad of his gloves in this biting cold, and pulled the door open as he stood aside, allowing his employer to enter the building ahead of him.

  The two-story lobby was not large but its glass walls, even on this grey and gloomy day, provided so much luminescence that it appeared vast. The light, faintly green from the thick glass, gave an impression of being underwater, an impression that was enhanced by the celadon walls. A reception desk of polished teak in a modernistic wedge-shape dominated the main floor of the lobby, and acted as a divider for the double staircases that curved up the inner walls to the gallery on the second floor; behind the stairs was an alcove where the building’s telephone switchboard was located, five women handling all the connections. Two well-dressed young women manned the reception desk, each wearing a welcoming smile that did not extend as far as their eyes.

  “Buenos días, Señor Conde,” said the taller of the two, not quite simpering. “I’ll tell Señor Lundhavn you’re here.”

  “Gracias, Estrellita,” said Saint-Germain as if perfectly satisfied with this suggestion; he removed his hat and held it by the crown-crease as he looked about the lobby, barely pausing as he caught sight of two soldiers standing on the far side of the eastern staircase. “Tell him I’m on my way,” he said, and started up the western staircase, Rogerio right behind him.

  The second floor, with its three corridors leading away from the lobby gallery, was primarily devoted to office space, and Elias Lundhavn occupied one of the two largest at the end of the main corridor. He came to the door just as Saint-Germain knocked on it, saying, “So good to see you, Comte” in Danish, and repeated himself in French. He was middle-aged, stocky, brown-haired, and blue-eyed, with a square face that just now seemed wooden, although he did his best to force a welcoming smile. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have arranged a full turnout for you. The staff are always eager to be included in your meetings.”

  “Not this one, I think,” Saint-Germain said lightly.

  Lundhavn blinked. “Should I send for my secretary to take notes?” He tried to cover his sudden edginess by lighting a cigarette.

  “No need for that,” said Saint-Germain. “This isn’t a progress call. I have a few matters I have to discuss with you, and I would prefer to do it without fanfare. I suppose you would prefer that, as well.” He crossed the office to the larger of two visitor’s chairs and sat down; Rogerio remained in the hallway. “Do sit down, Elias. This may take some time.”

  Lundhavn coughed nervously and removed a silver cigarette case from the inner pocket of his suit jacket; he offered this to Saint-Germain, and when it was waved away, took out one for himself. “Is something the matter, Comte? You seem somewhat troubled. Is there anything amiss?” He bustled back behind his desk as if to barricade himself against the well-mannered black-clad Saint-Germain.

  “That is what I hope you will tell me,” said Saint-Germain, and paused; when Lundhavn said nothing, he went on. “I have been receiving some rather alarming memos from—well, it doesn’t matter whom—that have troubled me, and I have decided that it is time I addressed the issues with you.” He sat wholly at his ease, his hat dangling from his fingers. “And now I find soldiers in the lobby of this building. Why is that?”

  “They arrived,” said Lundhavn. “They have orders to keep guard over this plant, because airplanes are strategically important—that’s what their orders stipulate.”

  “I have no wish to be caught up in a civil war,” Saint-Germain warned.

  “No; who’d want that? It wouldn’t be good for business to have to take sides,” said Lundhavn, and laughed nervously. “We’re not part of the conflict, thank goodness.” He lit his cigarette and blew out a long cloud of smoke, but kept his lighter in his hand, as if anticipating the need to light another.

  Saint-Germain nodded, frowning slightly. “And yet it seems that we have been dragged into the matter. Why is that, do you think?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Lundhavn protested, clearing his throat.

  “But you have made comments on the issues at stake here, or so the memos tell me.” Saint-Germain watched Lundhavn as he fumbled with his lighter.

  “What issues would they be?” Lundhavn asked, his manner defensive and his chin coming up sharply. He stubbed out his cigarette.

  “It would appear that someone from this company has been negotiating with the military to adapt our Scythians for combat.” He raised one brow. “I have proof that the information provided to the army came from this office, Elias.”

  “How could that be?” Lundhavn said as he stared at the penstand on his desk; he avoided looking at Saint-Germain directly, but watched him from the tail of his eye.

  “That is what I am here to find out,” said Saint-Germain.

  Lundhavn rubbed his chin. “Are you sure your informant knows as much as he claims? It would be to the advantage of some of the smaller companies—Aero Madrid, for instance—to see us have to sell out this company. That could be what’s going on. And your informant may be trying to make it appear he has more reliable information than is actually the case.”

  “He is very familiar with the workings of Eclipse, and must have enlisted more than one man on the staff to supply him crucial information.” He said it bluntly, watching Lundhavn, his dark eyes narrowed.

  Lundhavn did his best to chuckle. “That’s absurd,” he said.

  “Alas, it is not,” said Saint-Germain, his posture unchanged. “I have received several visits from a Colonel Senda who seems to be of the opinion that the arrangements have all been made. He chastised me for not signing the contracts that have been prepared. I don’t think he believed that I knew nothing about them.” He leaned forward and put his hat on the edge of Lundhavn’s broad rosewood desk. “The Colonel informed me that you had agreed on the terms of the contract, and that some of my staff had helped you. Why would he say that if it were wholly lies?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lundhavn, his face darkening to a blotchy shade of plum. “It must be—”

  “I knew that our financial information had been obtained by authorities in Madrid. I might have thought one of t
he men working on aircraft assembly had passed on what he saw in constructing the airplanes, but my informant had access to new design modifications that haven’t yet been incorporated into the current airplanes being prepared for delivery,” Saint-Germain said thoughtfully. “But the contract was the stumbling block for me. It implied the collaboration of the managerial staff.”

  “Why should anyone—?” He waved at the air as if to banish a nightmare.

  Saint-Germain sat back and studied the Dane. “I know this kind of industry is under pressure to cooperate with the generals, but surely you haven’t forgotten that foreigners are specifically forbidden to participate in strategic industries? That stricture isn’t limited to ownership of such companies; it encompasses the design staff as well.” His half-smile was gentle. “Do you know what would happen if the changes you so willingly endorsed were put into effect? To begin with, the government would seize Eclipse, and then all non-Spaniards would be dismissed.” He let Lundhavn have a long moment to consider this.

  “There have been exceptions to that rule,” Lundhavn said at last, his neck so stiff that he seemed propped in his chair like a puppet.

  “A few, a very few,” Saint-Germain pointed out. “And you, Elias, would not be one of them. Colonel Senda has a nephew who is earmarked to assume your position as soon as the contract is signed.” He saw the shocked expression that Lundhavn could not completely mask. “Ah. You had been given assurances, hadn’t you?”

  “Of course not,” Lundhavn blustered.

  “Elias, please,” Saint-Germain said patiently. “I am not so shocked as you might suppose; I will admit to being disappointed, but what man in my position would not be?” He did not add that he had seen this sort of maneuvering many times in the past. “The country is preparing for war; it would be remarkable if there wasn’t some attempt to control and exploit this technology, and because of my ambiguous status, Eclipse is especially vulnerable to manipulation.”

  Lundhavn stared toward the window. “How am I to respond?”

  “Truthfully, I hope,” said Saint-Germain. “If you are unwilling to tell me what has been going on here, then I cannot allow you to remain in your present position, and that,” he went on less emphatically, “would be unfortunate, for you have done your work well, and I am loath to lose you unless I must.”

  “You will have your joke, sir,” said Lundhavn. “If you are so convinced that I have worked against your policies, why should you keep me on?”

  “You are a fine engineer,” said Saint-Germain. “You do superior airplane designs, and this is what I hope you will continue to do here at Eclipse.”

  “And that is enough to mitigate any questions you have about my loyalty?” Lundhavn let out a single bark of laughter. “Of course you will dismiss me.”

  “I may remove you from your present position,” said Saint-Germain resignedly. “But I would prefer to continue to employ you if you are willing to be forthcoming with me now.”

  “Why would you do that?” Lundhavn demanded, anger suddenly awakening within him. “Do you think you can force me to capitulate?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m not interested in your capitulation: this isn’t a contest of wills.” Saint-Germain made an exasperated gesture.

  “Why should you accommodate me? Since you think I have betrayed you to the generals.” His anger was beginning to fade and turn to petulance. “Why haven’t you dismissed me?” Lundhavn asked.

  “Because, as I have already told you, you are very capable, and I would just as soon keep your abilities here at Eclipse than send you out to peddle what you know to the generals. I am the more reliable employer, Elias, little as you may think it.” He saw Lundhavn’s cynical expression, and said, “If you are willing to accept my terms, it would please me very much.”

  Lundhavn glowered at a place outside the window only he could see. “What terms?” His voice was flat.

  “I will appoint another member of the staff to run the company; you needn’t concern yourself about whom I will select; I am not going to take your recommendation for your successor. Rest assured I have considered this carefully and it will take place immediately. You will stay on in the engineering design department, in charge of your three projects, but under supervision; I will only reduce your salary by ten percent. But there will be certain restrictions on you: you will not be permitted to take any plans or papers home, so if you wish to work past the usual hours, you will have to do it here. I am aware that the schematics are all in your head and I cannot compel you to forget the work you do when you leave, but I ask you to honor the terms of this agreement and devote yourself only to Eclipse.” He gave Lundhavn an opportunity to speak, and accepted his silence as an inclination to consider his offer. “You will keep the auto Eclipse provides. You need not give up this office, or your secretary. But you will relinquish all your developmental records not presently in development to me. My attorneys will draw up a revised contract for your signature and you will sign it without revision.”

  “You could put anything in such a contract, and claim that my refusal to sign would excuse your dismissing me.” He propped his elbows on the desk and steepled his hands above them. “It would let you be rid of me without allowing me any recourse.”

  Saint-Germain nodded once. “I have already explained why I would prefer not.”

  “You want me to be grateful to you,” Lundhavn said with conviction.

  “Gratitude can be very unreliable,” said Saint-Germain apologetically. “Say rather that I am hoping you might wish to keep most of what you have enjoyed rather than try to depend on the … loyalty of the generals.”

  Lundhavn tapped his fingers together. “You mean to tell me that because I haven’t been as steadfast as you would have liked, I might be paid by the same coin?”

  “It is a possibility,” said Saint-Germain. “And given your talents, you might not find it easy to leave Spain for another country, as you might intend to do.” It was only a guess, but the flicker of Lundhavn’s eyes told him he had been right. “So. You are planning to go elsewhere.”

  “I have received a flattering offer,” said Lundhavn, a bit too nonchalantly. “The terms are quite favorable.”

  “If you cannot leave Spain to accept it, the flattery means little, and you may discover that the generals will not be willing to let you go as long as they have work of their own for you,” said Saint-Germain with a wry turn of his mouth.

  “I am a Dane. They can’t keep me here,” Lundhavn insisted.

  “You may find that they can, unless you are planning to fly out in one of our test airplanes, leaving your wife and children behind. And do not assume that they would hold your family blameless.” He studied Lundhavn’s face. “You think you can elude the government? Just where were you planning to go?”

  “I have received an offer from … a company in Dresden.” He set his jaw. “I have already agreed to start work there in May.”

  “Then I see my visit is useless.” Saint-Germain rose, picking up his hat. “Very well: since you will not relent—you will not be allowed to take any blueprints or files out of the building, Elias. And since you are so determined to put yourself at a disadvantage, you may do so at once. I will have a check carried to your home by messenger before the end of the day. You may consider yourself dismissed. I will draft a letter to that effect before I leave this afternoon.” He turned toward the door. “You may have your secretary assist you in gathering your things; I will expect an inventory of what you have removed from this office, signed by you and your secretary, to be left on your desk when you leave.”

  “And how you’ll tell your Colonel Senda about my plans,” Lundhavn goaded him.

  “No. I doubt that will be necessary. There are others in the company who report to him regularly.” Saint-Germain pulled the door open. “I will go to the accounting office now. When I return I will expect you to be gone.”

  “If you are determined, I will go,” said Lundhavn in a tone of ill-usage. “I
trust I may be permitted to telephone my wife to tell her I am going to be home early?”

  “Why should I object to that?” said Saint-Germain as he closed the door.

  Rogerio had been standing near the end of the conference room door, and he turned around to face his employer. “It went badly.”

  “Yes; is it that obvious?” Saint-Germain inquired politely. “He has an offer from a company in Dresden and I believe he supposes helping the generals will smooth his departure.”

  “More fool he,” said Rogerio, falling in beside his master. “Where are we bound?”

  “To accounting, first. I need to authorize a final payment for Lundhavn, and then I need to have a word or two with Armando Pradera. Then I want to talk to Druze Sviny.” He started down the stairs to the lobby, apparently unaware of the attention he was attracting among his staff, or the sharp surveillance of the two soldiers. “I dislike having my hand forced.”

  “And that is what’s happening,” said Rogerio.

  Saint-Germain said nothing as he descended to the main floor. “Is the house ready for us, or do we need to find a hotel for the night?”

  “Lazaro has said the house is ready,” said Rogerio, accepting this change of subject as a matter of course. “If the electricity is working, then we’ll have a pleasant evening.”

  “That may be uncertain,” said Saint-Germain as he went toward the north hall; he saw a man pull back from his doorway.

  Rogerio sensed the tension and curiosity in the building. “Have you decided how long you want to stay in Córdoba?”

  “Three days at least. It will depend upon what I find out during my inspection here tomorrow.” He stopped in front of the frosted glass door of the accounting department. “This shouldn’t take long.” He tapped on the glass lightly before stepping inside, once again leaving Rogerio in the corridor.