Thanks a lot, Gerta.
“As it is, I still suspect he’s lying. Immediate termination would be the low-risk option here.”
“I was under the impression that you thought highly of this Johan Hosten.”
“I do. Heinrich and I named a son after him. I respect his courage and intelligence; which is why he’s too dangerous to live unless he’s on our side.”
“He seems inclined to agree to the proposition.”
“He’d have to anyway, wouldn’t he?”
“What evidence do you have to suppose he lies?”
“Gestalt. I lived with him until he was twelve and we’ve corresponded since. He’s committed to the Republic, absurd though that may sound. He believes. And John Hosten would never betray a cause in which he believed.”
A long silence. “As you say, the Republic’s ideology is absurd—and he is, from the records, not a stupid or irrational man. Termination is always an option, but it is irrevocable once exercised. We will test him; his position is potentially a priceless asset. And we are offering him the ultimate reward, after all.”
“Colonel, please record my objection and recommendation.”
“Captain, this is noted.” Aloud: “Johan Hosten, attend.”
When he was standing beside the chair, she continued: “We will concede this woman Probationer-Emeritus status.”
Second-class citizenship, but if married to one of the Chosen her children would be automatically entitled to take the Test of Life. Although they’d know he could sire no children. He blinked, keeping his face carefully neutral. Pia had wept when he told her that, and he’d been afraid, really afraid.
“This is . . .” He stopped and began again. “You understand, I’ve been growing more and more frustrated with Santander. You must know that, if your sources inside the Foreign Office are as good as I suspect. I keep telling them the risks, and they ignore them.” He shrugged. “As you said, it makes no sense to fight for those who won’t fight for themselves.” He stood, and gave the Chosen salute. “I agree. Command me, colonel!”
The colonel returned the gesture. Gerta stared at him with cold appraisal, biting at her lip thoughtfully. Then she shook her head and made a small gesture to the senior officer, a thumb-pull, much the same as one would make to cock a pistol before shooting someone in the back of the head.
Colonel von Kleuron looked at them both and then shook her head.
John fought back an impulse to let out a long sigh of relief. They aren’t going to kill me now. Thanks, Gerta, thanks a lot.
Although he should have expected it. He’d always known his foster-sister was smart, and she did know him well.
“Johan Hosten.”
The basset-hound face of the colonel allowed itself a slight smile.
“You have made a wise decision. You will be dropped at some distance, and contacted when appropriate. May your service to the Chosen be long and successful.”
“Welcome back, Johnnie,” Gerta said. “I’m sure you’ll make a first-class operative. You’ve got natural talent.”
* * *
Lucky bastard, Jeffrey said silently.
No, it’s Chosen arrogance, John replied from half a continent away. A faint overlay of the controls of a road steamer came through the link, beyond it a long dusty country road.
Jeffrey smiled, imagining serious expression and the slight frown on his stepbrother’s face.
Have they contacted you since? he said/thought.
No. It’s only been three days, and they’re very busy. The whole Land embassy staff left on the last dirigible.
Jeffrey lifted his coffee cup. It was morning, but some of the other patrons in the streetside cafe had already made a start on something stronger. Many of them were settling in with piles of newspapers or books, or just enjoying the perennial Imperial sport of people-watching. The coffee was excellent, and the platter of pastries extremely tempting; you had to admit, there were some things the Imperials did very well. His contact should be showing up any minute.
Give me a look at the activity in the harbor, John requested. Jeffrey turned slightly in his seat and looked downhill; Center would be supplying the visual input to John.
Awful lot of Chosen shipping still there, his stepbrother commented.
They’re still delivering cod, Jeffrey replied. To the naval stockpiles, no less.