‘I’m coming!’ Mrs Brown called, stifling her sobs. ‘I’m coming! Mind the paint!’
She let in an Inspector followed by a municipal police officer carrying an instrument case.
The Chancellor, who had not moved from his seat, asked:
‘Would you intrude upon a family’s grief?’
‘I’m sorry, your Worship. I’m sure Mr Brown will believe I’m not here from choice, knowing him personally as it were,’ the policeman said.
‘That’s all right, mate,’ Alfred assured him. ‘Orders is orders.’
The Inspector asked Smith and Green what they were up to.
‘Avebury Power Board. There’s a short down here somewhere.’
‘Well, get out!’
‘Have to come back this evening if we do.’
Green added a nice touch by grumbling obscurely:
‘Always something! If it ain’t children, it’s drains.
And if it ain’t drains, it’s the police.’
They put back the boards, tapped them with a hammer and cleared out with their bag of tools, caps well down over their faces.
The Chancellor asked if he, too, was to leave.
‘As you please,’ the Inspector replied. ‘But it’s my duty to report your presence here.’
‘His Excellency can only approve. He would expect me to be at my post as I expect him to be at his.’
The Chancellor gathered his black frock coat together with dignity, bowed deeply to Mrs Brown and left.
‘Stately old sod, isn’t he,’ the policeman remarked.
‘You’ve no right to speak like that of the Chancellor of the Exchequer!’
‘I take it back, Mr Brown. I only meant that I see what you see in him, if you see what I mean.’
The Inspector held out a document to Alfred Brown, requesting him to satisfy himself that the search warrant was in order.
‘You have no right. I am a member of the Assembly.’
‘Only a formality, Mr Brown. Pezulu Pasha knows that you are opposed to violence.’
‘Aye, it never settled nothing. Nor does patience, more’s the pity. That’s what the young ones like Silvia see.’
The Inspector opened the case carried by his companion, and placed on the table an advanced metal detector with horizontal revolving vanes. Whenever the vanes stopped, a pointer sprang out from the body of the machine. The Inspector ignored the obvious metal objects indicated, but showed interest when the pointer reacted to the wooden case of the grandfather clock.
‘What’s that thing for?’ he asked.
‘To look handsome. That’s all. Some say it was to tell the time.’
Mrs Brown, feeling that her husband had been too blunt, explained that it was a piece of old British woodwork.
‘Alfred brought it with us from Africa. And it’s valuable, see?’
‘Where does it open?’
‘It don’t open,’ Alfred said. ‘And there’s nothing in it so far as I know.’
‘Stand clear of the beam, please.’
The Inspector threw a switch and the fine beam of a laser cut its path round the front of the clock, which fell on the floor to reveal an old-fashioned rifle in a rack.
‘This is your daughter’s, of course?’
The two Browns stared at each other, appalled at the probable consequences. After a moment’s hesitation, Alfred Brown replied:
‘Mine.’
‘It’s of the same make and pattern as her weapon, and there was another here very recently.’
‘Aye. She must have got in through the top and taken one. That’s what put it in her head. Impulse, like. Like when a child gets hold of a box of matches. Got to light one, hasn’t she?’
‘Come off it, Brown. We know she’s a member of the terrorist group.’
‘Well, you know wrong! We wouldn’t trust her. She’s just a young fool. Hysterical!’
The policeman, much shocked, declared he would never have believed it of Mr Brown.
‘You don’t know what it is to be British, lad.’
‘If I had my way,’ the Inspector said, ‘I’d kick all you bastards into the forest and see how you liked that!’
‘They ain’t British. It’s we who are the British. Down with the Federation!’
‘Pack a bag, Brown – change of underclothes, toothbrush and anything else private and personal. We’ll provide the rest.’
‘Oh, not both of you!’ Mrs Brown cried. ‘Not both of you!’
Chapter V
Cold steel. Pretorius did not fear it, but shuddered away from the mental picture of one human being cutting and stabbing another. When the sun shone on individuals in the small bands of insurgents which picketed the streets leading to the Residency, some object between belt and thigh occasionally flashed. Cold steel.
They had firearms too, but not many. The Sporting Club armouries must have been raided. Distant cheering and the singing of ‘Landa Fope’ could be heard from the direction of the Assembly, but the pickets were silent – a bad sign. Old histories recorded that the British were most dangerous when they were grimly silent.
Suddenly there came the sound of a shot from somewhere close to, probably one of the gates of the Residency compound. Pretorius jumped up, shouting involuntarily:
‘Stop it! Stop it, I tell you!’
The shot was followed by a roar of anger, almost immediately succeeded by jeers and laughter. Contempt? Contempt just as if the nearest picket had heard his futile order? But that was impossible when he was at his desk trying, not very successfully, to dictate to Julian Cola the headings of a confidential report.
‘Julian, go down and identify that man who fired against my orders and put him under arrest!’
Pezulu Pasha, having heard the shot, hurried to the High Commissioner’s office in order – as he said to himself – to put some guts into him.
‘Well, they asked for it that time. One of them crept up and catapulted a bad egg at the sentry, who thought they were going to try to rush the gate.’
‘Which of your men was fool enough to fire?’
‘Not one of mine, sir. Army.’
‘Julian, get me Lieutenant General Aranda. Tito, was this a serious attack?’
‘Not yet. But they are threatening everything, and we can’t tell where the real strike will come.’
‘They have a right to protest. I have jailed a member of their Assembly.’
‘But he was guilty as hell.’
‘Of what? Of producing a daughter?’
‘And of bringing her up on their filthy patriotism and running an arms depot for her boy friends.’
‘I will not form my policy on impatience.’
‘Patience can’t go on for ever, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because one can’t govern a madhouse.’
‘Doctors do.’
‘They couldn’t if they had no force behind them.’
‘The Federation has overwhelming force. That’s why I don’t have to use it.’
Yes, overwhelming force in principle and by agreement between all three Federations. The Americans, always the most idealistic of the three, had abolished their armed forces entirely. Pretorius approved but had to admit that they had ruthlessly strengthened the powers of civil police. The Asian Federation, unwilling to lose the pictured splendour and pageantry of the past, had kept small garrisons purely for ceremonial. The Euro-Africans had done much the same but, since they had pockets of disaffection and organised crime among frontier peoples who had never suffered the worst effects of the Age of Destruction and did not wholly appreciate the lessons which the rest had learned for ever, had preserved a General Staff chiefly to evaluate the limits of minimum force, allowing enough troops to keep them happy.
General Arpad Aranda, immaculately uniformed, strode through the double door and saluted. He had the air of cheerful confidence proper to the traditional soldier, especially when uncertain what to be confident about. He carried a rolled-up map under h
is left arm and a briefcase in the hand.
‘General Aranda, any man who fires is to be put under arrest immediately.’
‘Naturally, sir. The shot which disturbed us all was let off by a guardsman who had not been trained in the use of old-fashioned firearms which are all the Federation will permit us. He mistook the function of the trigger.’
‘I trust he has been removed from his post.’
‘Yes, sir. To hospital.’
‘Are the Residency guards really in any serious trouble at all?’
‘That will depend on your orders, sir.’
Pezulu interrupted excitedly that his police, too, were waiting for orders.
‘Suppose they are attacked and the High Commissioner has still not declared a State of Emergency?’
‘One cannot expect a decision from His Excellency until he is in possession of the facts.’
The intolerable military! Pretorius hated the coolness of this admirable servant as he hung upon the wall a map of Avebury, unfastened his briefcase and selected three coloured chalks. All his movements were unhurried and meticulous. For all the emotion he showed, Aranda might have been arranging the seating for a state banquet. Meanwhile the angry roar of the crowd from the parks and playgrounds around the Institute was drawing nearer, or else increasing in mindless ferocity. Didn’t it worry the man that what he was about to arrange was indeed seating but for coffins?
Aranda circled with chalk a point in the centre of the city.
‘The position at fifteen hours forty-seven was that all police had been withdrawn from the welfare estates.’
Pezulu’s nerves were affected as much as the High Commissioner’s by this professional composure.
‘I’m not going to have ’em murdered,’ he half shouted.
‘Quite so! Quite, Pezulu Pasha! But I am here to give His Excellency my appreciation of the situation as it is, not as it might be. The insurgents, numbering twenty to twenty-two thousand, may move so’ – Aranda dashed a red arrow across the map, marking it ‘A’ – ‘or so;’ – he drew a blue arrow and marked it ‘B’ – ‘I cannot tell the intentions of the enemy – I beg your pardon, sir, the British – until they have committed themselves. If their objective is “A”, the barracks are isolated. I cannot reinforce without bloodshed and I can only order my Area Commander to surrender.’
‘Why must he?’
‘Because if he is not allowed to fire and must meet cold steel with truncheons and riot shields, his position will be overrun. Passing now to “B”, the threat is to the Residency and Administration Offices. I take it that it will be your wish that they should be defended if attacked?’
‘Of course it is!’
‘I am merely giving you an analysis of the situation, sir,’ Aranda replied, overlooking the High Commissioner’s impatience. ‘There are two alternatives open to us. One is to surrender “B” and fly a mobile column from Federation Headquarters into the heart of the city while the insurgents are unprepared and dispersed.’
He permitted himself a single sweeping gesture which seemed to scoop the column from Pretorius’ desk, launch it across the Channel and deposit it in Avebury.
‘The second alternative is to form a stronghold at “B” and allow it to be invested. That will inevitably involve the use of fire-arms which, as I have mentioned, are obsolete and not markedly superior to those in the hands of the British, but we have enough of them for defence.’
‘And if I authorise you to use … to use …’
‘The so-called beeswarm, sir?’
‘What exactly is the beeswarm, Aranda?’
‘It was once known as grapeshot, sir, and is delivered by quick-firing cannon with a much wider spread of shot than was known to the armies of the Age of Destruction. They would probably have used nerve gas.’
‘Revolting! But I have heard that there is now a more merciful weapon which can be programmed to pick out the ringleaders.’
‘Nowhere near it yet, sir. The scientists say it can’t be done without silicon chips, and all they are sure of is that a vein of the stuff existed somewhere on the Pacific coast of North America. But the desert climate there is so cruel, with the few inhabitants reduced to hunter-gatherers, that all records are lost.’
‘Thank you, General. You have covered very ably the military problems.’
Pretorius rose from his desk and strode across to the map.
‘We will now deal with the political. Our dislike of the British! Our ignorance! Our intolerance!’
With each accusation he slashed an arrow across the map, and stood back glaring.
‘I agree, sir. But the British have those unpleasant qualities too.’
Aranda, unruffled, had spoken with his practised military manners, recalling Pretorius, still appalled at the thought of turning beeswarm on his nursery school, to his normal courtesy.
‘I am so sorry, Aranda. They do, of course.’
‘And I did warn you this could happen,’ Pezulu said.
‘You’re always warning me. What particular occasion was this?’
‘Your personal interview with Silvia Brown.’
‘And what the devil was wrong with that? It was my duty to be as gentle as I could with the poor girl.’
‘It’s said that you tied her down.’
‘What for?’
‘With her legs apart.’
‘And raped her, I suppose,’ Pretorius added incredulously.
‘No. I did that. They have the word of the Chancellor of the Exchequer for it.’
‘The Chancellor? But why should I have invited him to watch something so loathsome?’
‘So that he could report back to his precious lambs how the Federation settles with assassins. It’s all in this morning’s underground sheet.’
‘Who wrote it?’
‘According to a very reliable source, a fellow called Green.’
‘Have him arrested at once!’
‘We did. Wrong man.’
‘Can’t you identify him?’
‘They all live in similar houses. Most of them are called White, Green, Brown or Black. They all work from nine to one, and watch the screen from three to midnight …’
Aranda remarked cheerfully that the more civilisation progressed, the harder it was for the police to identify anybody. Pretorius, having no use for generalities from the mess, ignored him and demanded what the Chancellor had to say for himself.
‘Says he is appalled. Says the report misquotes him. Says everything except that his story is a damned lie. So it’s not surprising they believe it.’
‘Not surprising when they know me? When every week for two years I’ve mixed with them in their streets and houses alone and unguarded? One tries to have every sympathy with them, but how can one describe such stupidity?’
‘British,’ Pezulu answered.
‘What are the British? A race or a religion or just a mob with coloured hair and the habit of rotting their brains with that dismal liquid they call tea? God knows I did not mind being shot at, but …’
‘The poor girl?’ Pezulu murmured.
‘I don’t see why you call her poor. She’s a terrorist like her father and his whole group.’
‘Don’t take it to heart, sir. They were dead certain you wouldn’t strike back.’
‘Were they, by God!’
Pezulu cautiously remarked – as if it were a mere possibility – that declaring a State of Emergency needn’t necessarily …
‘I’ll sign that at once. And Silvia Brown?’
‘I know you feel strongly that we should not give any provocation.’
‘Provocation, Tito, is not the same thing as restoring order.’
‘Then let justice be seen to be done.’
‘Immediate deportation for trial on a charge of nationalism?’
‘She wanted to be St Silvia the martyr, I remember. Make it first-degree criminal patriotism.’
Pretorius gathered up the papers from his desk, wrote and stamped the sing
le sheet remaining, and then signed it so heavily that the ink sputtered.
‘General Aranda, if attacked you may use firearms. If their use is not sufficient to hold both “A” and “B”, here is your authorisation to employ the beeswarm with a due regard for economy.’
He rose and left the office with the walk of a strong and silent man.
‘If only he handles this confidently!’ declared Pezulu, punching his wounded hat with excitement.
Aranda calmly rolled up his map.
‘I must write this up for the staff course,’ he said. ‘We Euro-Africans have so little experience of sheer courage. I suppose the sight of their own dead will stop them?’
‘No it won’t! Not if I know the British!’
Aranda’s forecast of the fate of ‘A’ was correct. The British attack on the barracks went home. The troops, untrained or poorly trained to use their ceremonial rifles for killing, escaped from the thrust of the charge, from the stones, the clubs and the red knives that no longer shone in the sun, by rushing into the empty streets and the groves of the parks, tearing off their uniform tunics. The Area Commander, trying desperately to remember all he had learned in school of the ancient and dignified rituals of surrender, marched forward with a white flag. Two improvised swords of sharpened iron bars met in his chest and the killers, to their surprise, found some difficulty in withdrawing them.
The British casualties were insignificant, mostly caused by the crushing and treading of their own undisciplined mass. War – if this was war – seemed to them a much easier business than the annihilation of whole populations, of cities and even of the fertility of the earth which had led to the lasting peace of the World Federations. Confident and jeering, they turned now to that seat of power and integrity which Aranda had so comprehensively included under the letter ‘B’.
The Residency and the government offices formed a roughly oval compound set on the smooth green hillock a little above the city. It was not encircled by any wall or railing, but the ranks of windows on the east side were unbroken and gave an impression of bureaucratic solidity; on the west side were three gateways, the central one formal and classical, the other two no more than arched entrances. Stretching along the whole west front was a wide, paved terrace at the head of the two avenues from the city.
Arrows of Desire Page 5
