The Admiral and Senator Beemody nodded in unison. There was no telling where the real moles were, of course.
“Here’s what I think we should do—”
* * *
Gerta Hosten was walking stiffly when she entered the room. John stood.
“Are you all right?” he asked, surprised to find the concern genuine, even after all these years.
“Flying accident,” she said, looking around.
The little house was a gem, in its own way; patterned silk wallpaper, Errife rugs, inlaid furniture, all discreetly tucked away in a leafy suburb north of the embassy section of Santander City. Just what a millionaire industrialist would use for assignations he wanted to keep thoroughly secret from his wife, which was the cover John was using. Good tradecraft, she thought grudgingly; John could read that on her face, even without Center’s supremely educated guesses.
“Not serious, I hope.” John sat and poured the coffee and brandy.
“Just a wrenched back for me. Thankfully, the plane totaled itself in front of half the Chosen Council. That damned bomber is a flying—just barely flying—abortion. If it’d had a full fuel load, much less bombs, I’d be in bits just large enough to plug a rat’s ass.”
“The Air Council’s finally given up on using airships as strategic bombers?”
“I should hope so, after we lost a dozen trying to hit Unionvil in the last offensive,” she said. “But those eight-engine monsters Porschmidt came up with, they’re no better. Only marginally faster, the bomb load is a joke, they’re unbelievably expensive to build and maintain, and landing them’s more dangerous than combat. The bugger’s got the Council’s ear, though, him and his backers. Now he’s throwing good money after bad, trying to improve the fuckers.” She sighed. “To business.”
“Here,” John said, sliding the folder across the ivory-and-tortoise-shell of the table.
It had three separate sets of “Top Secret” and “Eyes Only” stamps on it, Army General Staff, Naval Staff, and Premier’s Office, the latter a miniature of the Great Seal that only he and his chief aide could use. Gerta whistled silently as she picked it up. Her face went totally unreadable as she finally looked up at him. “This is serious?”
“Totally. Note the Premier’s sign-off.”
She flipped to the end. To be implemented, as soon as possible. “I’ll be damned,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought the Santies could get their shit together like this.”
“Jeff advised it, strongly,” John said. “He’s quite the fair-haired boy right now, and not just with the general public.”
“He deserves it,” Gerta said, refilling her cup. “Heinrich was extremely impressed with the way he got most of the Brigades out of Unionvil before we pinched off the pocket there. Excuse me, before General Libert pinched off the pocket with the assistance of volunteer contractors from the Land operating without the approval of the Chosen Council.”
She grinned like a wolf. “Heinrich picked up some very pretty things there when we sacked the city.”
John matched her expression, although in his case it wasn’t a smile. “What’ll you recommend?”
“Me? I’m just MilInt’s messenger girl,” Gerta said.
“You’re also the daughter of the Chief of the General Staff,” John pointed out. “And you’ve been carrying the hatchet for them for fifteen years now.”
“That’s between me and the vater, Johnnie,” Gerta said, taking out a camera the size of a palm from the street purse resting beside her chair. She opened it, checked the ambient light, and began photographing each page of the folder with swift, methodical care. “Besides, all doing a good job gets you is more jobs—you know how it works.
“I’ll tell you, though,” she said as she worked, “that I told him we shouldn’t get involved in the Union, and that if we had to make another grab so soon it should be the Sierra instead.”
“Tougher nut,” John observed.
“True, but not one we had to swim to get to,” she replied. “Frankly I think the navy flatters its chances when the balloon goes up. The Union thing could leave our tits in the wringer if things go wrong. This”—she nodded to the papers between snaps—”is exactly what the Santies should do, after all. But the Union was just too tempting, the political situation. I wish there were more women on the Chosen Council.”