Most of the military men around the table nodded, reluctantly.
The Premier leaned his elbows on the table, closed one hand into a fist and clasped the other over it, and leaned his chin on his knuckles. The pouched eyes leveled on Jeffrey. “Tell me more,” he said.
“Well, sir . . .” he began.
* * *
The elevator was still functioning when the meeting broke up. “God damn, but I hope there aren’t any leaks in that bunch,” John said, waiting with his foster brother while the first loads went up.
“That’s why I confined myself to generalities,” Jeffrey replied, yawning. “I can remember when these late nights were a pleasure, not something that made your eyes feel as if they’d been boiled, peeled and dredged in cayenne pepper.”
John shook his head. “Useful generalities, though,” he fretted.
Jeffrey grinned slightly and punched his arm. “Bro, there’s no way we can stop the Fourth Bureau or Militarische Intelligenz from finding out our capabilities, he said. “And from that, deducing our general intentions. What we have to do is keep the precise intentions secret. It’ll all depend on that.”
John nodded unhappily. “I still don’t like it.”
“Of course not,” Jeffrey said, his voice mock-soothing. “You’re a spook. You’re not happy unless you know everything about everybody and nobody else knows anything at all.”
The elevator rattled to a stop at the bottom of the shaft, and the sliding-mesh doors opened. They stepped in; the little square was decorated in the red plush carpet, mirrors, and carved walnut of the upper part of the Executive Mansion, not like the utilitarian warrens beneath added in the years before the war. The attendant pushed the doors closed and reached for the polished wood and brass of the lever that controlled it.
“Ground floor, I presume, gentlemen?” he said, with a slight Imperial accent.
John nodded, and said in the man’s own language, “How is it up top, Mario?”
The elevator operator grinned at the patron who’d found him this job. “Bad, signore,” he replied. “The tedeschi swine are out in force tonight. God and Mary and the Saints keep you safe.”
“Amen,” John said, and took his cigarette case out of his jacket. The cigarillos within were dark with a gold band; he offered it to the other men, then snapped his lighter.
The smoke was rich and pungent. “Sierran,” Jeffrey said. “Punch-punch claros. We won’t be seeing any more of those for a while.”
The elevator operator nodded somberly. “The tedeschi have gone mad there, signore,” he said. “They act as beasts in the Empire, but now in the Sierra . . .”
“I think they’re mad with frustration,” John said. “Ciao, Mario. My regards to your family.”
“Signore. And many thanks for Antonio’s scholarship.”
“He earned it.”
“Is there anywhere you don’t have them stashed?” Jeffrey said, as they walked out to the entrance—the nonceremonial one, for unofficial guests.
“It never hurts to have friends in . . .” John began, as they accepted hat and cane, uniform cap, and swagger stick, from the attendant. Then he paused on the polished marble of the steps. “Shit.”
They both stopped on the uppermost stair. The Executive Mansion had an excellent hilltop site. From here they could see for miles: darkened streets, the swift flicker of emergency vehicle headlights with the top halves painted black to make them less visible from above. Fires burned out of control down by the canals and the riverside warehouses, blotches of soft light amid the blackout darkness. Searchlights probed upward like fingers, like hands reaching for the machines that tormented the city below, sliding off the undersides of clouds and vanishing in the gaps between. Every few seconds an antiaircraft gun would fire, a flicker of light and a flat brraack, then the shell would burst far above, sometimes lighting a cloud from within for an instant. When they finally fell silent, sirens spoke all over the great city, a rising-falling wail that signaled the “all clear.” As they died, the lesser sirens of fire engines could be heard, and the clangor of bells.
“And now they’ll sleep for a little while,” John said softly. “Those that can. Tomorrow they’ll get out of bed and go to work.”