The Revolution Trade (Merchant Princes Omnibus 3)

by Charles Stross

  The president nodded sagely. ‘Make sure they check their receivers before they transition. We don’t want any systems failures.’

  ‘Yes sir. Is there anything else you want me to add?’ Normally, Dr. James thought, handing the man a leading question like that might border on insolence, but right now he was in an avuncular, expansive mood; the bright and shiny gadgets were coming out of the cold warrior’s toy box, and playing up to the illusion of direct presidential control over the minutiae of a strike mission was only going to go down well. A very political general, he told himself. Watch him.

  ‘I think there is.’ The president looked thoughtful. ‘Doctor. Can you have a handful more ARMBAND units ready two days after the operation? We’ll want them fitting to a passenger aircraft suitable for giving some, uh, witnesses, a ringside seat. It’s for the review stand at the execution – diplomatic witnesses to show the Chinese and the Russians what happens if you fuck with the United States. It’ll need to be an airframe that’s ready for the boneyard, it’ll need a filtered air system, good cabin visibility, and nothing too sensitive for commie eyes. Except ARMBAND, but you’ll be keeping the guests out of the cockpit. General, if you could get your staff to suggest a suitable aircraft and minute my office on their pick, I’ll see you get an additional order via the joint command.’ He grinned impishly. ‘Wish I was going along with it myself.’

  REFUGEES

  The walkie-talkie in Miriam’s bag squawked for attention.

  ‘What’s that?’ Burgeson, startled, let go of her arm as she turned to the table.

  ‘Bad news, I think.’ She pulled the radio out. ‘Mike Bravo, Mike Bravo, sitrep please, over.’

  A buzz of static, squelched rapidly: ‘Boss? Emil here. I just got a call from Delta Charlie. Zulu Foxtrot is under attack, repeat, the house is under attack. We’re bringing the truck round, you need to get out now, over.’

  Miriam stared at Erasmus. ‘My house is under attack. Do you know anything about it?’ She knew the answer before the words were finished: The widening of his pupils and the paleness of his face told her all she needed. ‘Damn. It’s got to be Reynolds, hasn’t it?’

  ‘I need to get to the railway station.’ Erasmus stood up, unfolding sticklike limbs as he glanced at the window. ‘If he’s doing this now, he means to be back in New London by nightfall, which means this is the start of something bigger. There’s a Council of People’s Commissioners – cabinet – meeting tomorrow morning. He’ll either present the arrests as a fait accompli, and impeach me for treason and conspiracy on the spot, or go a step further and arrest the entire Mutual wing of the Council in the name of the Peace and Justice Committee. It’ll be a coup in all but name: Either way, he takes me out and weakens Sir Adam enormously.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Miriam positioned herself between Erasmus and the doorway. ‘Do you have a plan?’

  ‘Yes, if I can get to the station.’ He paused. ‘You should go into hiding, in your other world – they can’t reach you there – ’

  ‘The hell I will.’ She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, then the walkie-talkie. ‘Emil, Mike Bravo here. I’m coming out with a passenger. We need a ride. Over.’ She pushed the door open. ‘What’s at the station?’

  ‘I have a train to catch. Once I’m on it, Reynolds can’t touch me and can’t stop me from telling the truth.’

  ‘A train – ’

  ‘My train.’ His smile widened, sharkishly. ‘Steve has no idea what I’m capable of doing with it.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell me on the way.’ She paused, by the door. ‘Reynolds knows you’re here, right?’

  ‘Yes. But Josh and Mark are waiting down in the shop and his men won’t get past them silently – ’

  ‘Reynolds has the Lee family working for him; or some of them.’ She held up a hand, then stood still, listening.

  ‘What are you – ’

  She walked across to the window casement and looked out along the alley, keeping her body in the shadows. ‘Do you hear a steamer?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Because we should be hearing one by now.’ She froze, listening, for a moment. ‘Emil and Klaus were just round the corner. Do you have some way of calling your bodyguards?’

  ‘The shop bell-pull in the hall – it works both ways. What are you thinking?’ He pitched his voice low.

  ‘That we’re very isolated right now. I may be jumping at shadows, but if Reynolds is raiding my house, why isn’t he also here?’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Erasmus returned to the sideboard. ‘In that case, we’d better go.’ A muffled click, and he turned around, holding a small pepperpot pistol. A barely glimpsed gesture made it vanish into a sleeve or a pocket. ‘For once, I’m not going to let you go first.’

  ‘I don’t think’ – they collided in front of the doorway – ‘so?’

  ‘My apologies.’ Looking her in the eye, Erasmus added, ‘It would be best if my bodyguards saw me first.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Miriam stepped aside reluctantly. He crossed the hall and turned the key, then pulled the front door open as she followed him.

  ‘Stop or I shoot!’ Erasmus froze in the doorway. The teenager on the landing kept his pistol in Burgeson’s face, but went wide-eyed as he looked past the older man and saw Miriam. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Heart in mouth, she looked the youth in the eye: ‘Point the gun at someone else, Lin, or I will be very angry with you.’

  ‘I’m not supposed to do that.’ His voice was shaky. ‘I’m supposed to kill everyone in this apartment.’

  ‘Who told you to do that?’ Miriam asked quietly.

  ‘The man Elder Huan told me to obey without question.’ Erasmus stood stock-still as Lin stepped back a pace and lowered his pistol to waist level. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here,’ he added, almost petulantly.

  Pulse hammering, Miriam took a step forward and placed a hand on Erasmus’s shoulder. ‘Everything is going to be all right,’ she said quietly. ‘Lin, I want you to meet Mr. Burgeson. He’s a, a friend of mine.’ She could feel his shoulder through the cloth of his jacket, solid and real and seeming to her as delicate as a fine bone-china teacup caught in midfall; she felt faint, this was so close to Roland’s end. ‘I will never forgive you if you kill him.’

  Lin nodded. ‘I am dishonored either way. But I won’t shoot him. For your sake.’ His elders had once sent Lin to kill Miriam. She, capturing him, had not only spared him, she’d sent him back to them with a truce offer.

  ‘Did the man who sent you here wear a black coat, by any chance? A party commissioner called Reynolds?’

  Lin shook his head. ‘Oh no,’ he said earnestly. ‘The doctor sent me.’ His nostrils flared with evident disdain: ‘Dr. ven Hjalmar.’

  ‘Would someone,’ Erasmus said quietly but forcefully, ‘explain to me what exactly is happening?’

  ‘I think I can put it together,’ said Miriam. ‘Lin, Dr. ven Hjalmar is working with Commissioner Reynolds, isn’t he? No need to confirm or deny anything – your brother and I had a conversation.’

  Lin nodded. ‘I was sent to remove a, a party radical who was opposed to our ends, in the doctor’s words.’ He stared at Erasmus. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Have you met Stephen Reynolds?’ Erasmus asked quietly. ‘He isn’t one for whom loyalty is a two-way street.’

  ‘I’ve discussed this with James,’ said Miriam. ‘Lin, I’ve been negotiating a, a deal with Mr. Burgeson here. It’s similar to the arrangement your elders came to with the security commissioner.’

  ‘The difference is, I don’t send death squads to murder my rivals,’ Erasmus added.

  Miriam looked straight at Lin: ‘That’s why I’ve been dealing with him. The arrangement can be extended to include your relatives. But not if you shoot him, or hand us over to the Internal Security directorate. Or Dr. ven Hjalmar.’

  Lin looked straight back at her. ‘You say this man is a friend of yours,’ he sai
d. ‘Do you mean that? Are you claiming privilege of kinship? Or is it just a business arrangement to which no honor attaches?’

  Miriam blinked. She tightened her grip on Erasmus’s shoulder as she felt him breathe in, preparing to say something potentially disastrous – ‘Erasmus is a personal friend of mine, Lin. This isn’t just business.’ Which was true, she realized as she said it; not that they had gotten up to anything, not that there was substance to the cover story Burgeson’s bodyguards and enemies believed, but she could conceive of it, at some future time. ‘So yes, I claim privilege of kinship, and if you touch one hair on his head I’ll claim blood feud on you and yours. Is that what you want?’

  Lin looked away, then shook his head.

  ‘Good. We understand each other, I hope? Do you and yours claim Dr. ven Hjalmar?’

  Lin’s eyes widened. ‘Not yet. Aunt Mei was talking about finding him a wife, but – ’

  ‘Then you have no problem if I declare him outlaw and anathema as a traitor to my family and deal with him accordingly?’

  He began to smile. ‘If your arrangement for the security of your clan can stretch to some more bodies – none whatsoever. What do you have in mind?’

  ‘First, I need to deliver Mr. Burgeson safely to South Station, where a train is waiting for him.’ She felt Erasmus preparing to speak again. ‘And then I and my sworn retainers have an appointment with Dr. ven Hjalmar, and possibly with Commissioner Reynolds. Would you like to come along?’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ Lin said gravely. He looked directly at Erasmus. ‘If you’d both care to come downstairs, my cousins and I have a wagon waiting on the other side of the wall of worlds. We were to use it to dispose of the evidence, but I think it will work just as well with living passengers.’ He returned his pistol to a pocket holster, then raised an eyebrow. ‘Which platform do you want?’

  *

  The miracles of modern communication technology: With two-way radios, the survivors of Reynolds’s simultaneous raids called in and made contact within an hour. Miriam, her head pounding, hugged Erasmus briefly. ‘Try to take care,’ she murmured in his ear.

  ‘My dear, I have every intention of doing so.’ He grinned lop-sidedly.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Get to my train on time, with the help of these fine fellows.’ Behind her, Lin was filling two of his fellows in on the turn events had taken. ‘Then I shall first signal Sir Adam. Stephen’s gone too far this time – setting up a parallel arrangement with these cousins of yours and trying to frame me for subversion. I have my own supporters within the Freedom Guard; if necessary we can take it to the street.’ His face fell. ‘But that has its own price. What do you intend?’

  ‘I’m going to find my people,’ she told him. ‘And then we’re going to take out the trash. Stay away from the old Polis headquarters building for a couple of hours, Erasmus. You might want to turn up later – around six, maybe – to take charge of the cleanup operation and to assemble a cover story.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s not going to be pretty. Reynolds is a problem, but the doctor is a worse one: a sociopath with the background and intellect to raise his own version of the Clan, given half a chance.’

  ‘You think your doctor is more important than Reynolds?’

  ‘I know it.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘You and your boss can deal with Reynolds; he’s an attack dog, but if you put a chain on his collar you can keep him under control. But ven Hjalmar doesn’t wear a collar in the first place.’

  ‘Then you should take care,’ he said gravely. ‘I should be going. But . . . take care. I would very much like to see you again.’

  ‘You too.’ She leaned forward and, trying not to think too hard about her intentions, kissed him. She was aiming for his cheek, but he turned, and for a moment their lips touched. ‘Oh. Go on.’

  ‘Until this evening,’ he said, coloring slightly as he took a step backwards, turning towards the cart, his temporary chauffeurs, and the somnolent mule between the traces.

  Miriam waited until he looked away, then walked over to Lin’s side. ‘Let’s do it,’ she said. ‘My people first; then the Polis building.’

  *

  Three o’clock in the afternoon, and for Commissioner Reynolds the day was not going terribly well.

  In the communications room downstairs the telautographs were buzzing and clattering like deranged locusts; telespeakers clutching their earpieces hammered away on their keyboards, transcribing incoming messages from the snatch squads and the delivery teams charged with ferrying the detainees to the Burke. Periodically one of the supervisors or overofficers would collate a list of the most important updates and hurry them upstairs, where Reynolds would receive them in stony silence.

  ‘Ninety-six subjects isolated at Irongate and consigned for detention. Thirty-one confirmed as received by the Burke, the others still being in transit. Slow, too slow. Site B in Boston, heavy gunfire – damn you, man, what do you mean, heavy gunfire returned? That group has gun carriers! What’s going on out there?’

  The doctor, placidly munching on a dessert platter, paused to dab at his lips with a napkin. ‘I told you to expect organized resistance from that crowd,’ he reminded Reynolds.

  ‘What is Site B putting up against our people?’ Reynolds demanded.

  The overstaffofficer paled: ‘Sir, there is word of machine-gun fire from inside the grounds. Casualties are three dead and eight injured so far; the supervisor-lieutenant on site has cordoned off the area and our men are exchanging fire with the defenders. One of the gun carriers was damaged by some sort of artillery piece when it tried to force the front gates.’

  ‘Damaged, by god?’ Reynolds glared at him. ‘This was how long ago? Why haven’t you called on the navy?’

  ‘Sir, I can’t order a shore bombardment of one of our own cities! If you want to request one it has to go up to the Joint Command Council for authorization – ’

  Reynolds cut him off with a chopping gesture. ‘Later. They’re pinned down for now, yes? What about Site C?’

  ‘Site C was overrun on schedule, sir. One casualty, apparently self-inflicted – negligent discharge. Six prisoners consigned for detention and received by the Burke. Two dead, killed resisting arrest or attempting to flee.’

  ‘Good.’ Reynolds nodded jerkily. ‘Site S?’

  ‘I don’t have a report for Site S, sir.’ The overstaffofficer riffled through his message sheets, increasingly concerned. ‘Sir, by your leave – ’

  ‘Go. Find out what happened. Report back. Dismissed.’ Reynolds turned to ven Hjalmar as his adjutant made himself scarce. ‘Damn it, you’d almost think – ’

  ‘They have radio – telautograph, I think you call it? Between sites. Between people.’ Ven Hjalmar was clearly irritated. ‘I told you that timing was essential.’

  ‘But how can they have notified the – my men cut all the wires! The transmission wires are vulnerable, yes?’

  ‘Transmission wires?’ Ven Hjalmar squinted. ‘What, you mean for transmitting the wireless signal? They don’t use wires for that – just a stub antenna, so big.’ He spread the fingers of one hand. ‘I think we may have found a regrettable source of confusion: Their radios – the telautograph sets – are pocket-sized. They’ll all be carrying them, at least one per group when they’re off base – ’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Reynolds stared at him. ‘Pocket telautographs? That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Really?’ Ven Hjalmar pushed his chair back from the table. ‘I was under the impression that the Lee family had taught you that when visitors from other universes come calling it’s a good idea to keep an open mind.’ He stood up. ‘Sitting around up here and trying to convey the appearance of being in charge of the situation is all very well, but perhaps it would be a good idea to take a more hands-on approach before the enemy get inside your decision loop – ’

  A deep thudding sound vibrated through the walls and floor, rattling the crockery and shaking a puff of plaster dust from the ce
iling.

  ‘Damn.’ Reynolds flipped open the lid of his holster and headed towards the door. ‘We appear to have visitors,’ he said dryly. He glanced back at ven Hjalmar. ‘Come along, now.’

  The doctor nodded and bent to pick up his medical bag, which he tucked beneath one arm, keeping a grip on the handle with his other hand. ‘As you wish.’

  The lights flickered as Reynolds marched out into the corridor. The two guards snapped to attention. ‘Follow me,’ he told them. ‘This fellow is with us.’ He strode towards the staircase leading down to the operations and communications offices below, just as a burst of rapid gunfire reverberated up the stairwell. ‘Huh.’ Reynolds drew his gun.

  ‘We need to get to ground level as fast as possible,’ ven Hjalmar said urgently. ‘If we’re at ground level I can get you out of here, but if we’re – ’

  ‘The enemy are at ground level,’ Reynolds cut him off. ‘They appear to be – ’ He listened. More gunfire, irregular and percussive, rattled the walls like an out-of-control drummer. ‘We can stop them ascending, however.’ He gestured his guards forward, to take up positions to either side of the stairs. ‘We wait here until the communications staff have organized a barricade – ’

  ‘But we’ve got to get down!’ Ven Hjalmar was agitated now. ‘If we aren’t at ground level I can’t world-walk, which means – ’

  But Commissioner Reynolds was never to hear the end of ven Hjalmar’s sentence.

  *

  Sir Alasdair and his men – just two had stayed behind at Site B to keep the security militia engaged – had exfiltrated to the backwoods landscape of the Gruinmarkt. The vicinity of Boston was well-mapped, crisscrossed by tracks and occasional roads and villages: maps, theodolites, and sensitive inertial platforms had built up a good picture of the key landmarks over the months since Miriam had pioneered a business start-up a couple of miles from Erasmus Burgeson’s pawnbroker shop (and Leveler quartermaster’s cellar). The Polis headquarters building, not far from Faneuil Hall, was a site of interest to Clan Security; with confirmation from Lin Lee that Reynolds and ven Hjalmar were present, it took Sir Alasdair less than an hour to arrange a counterattack.