Free The Ultimate Secret by David Thomas Moore Page B
Authors: David Thomas Moore
Tags: Science-Fiction
She was hot and sweaty, had only just caught her breath again, but she felt much more sure of herself than she had the first time she had stood here. “Smith?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Yes, Kim?”
“Who were they, Smith? The Chinese men following me?”
Smith heaved himself ponderously out of his seat and moved over to a sideboard, where a tea set had been laid out. “Chinese, was it? It could have gone either way. Tea?”
“No, thank you. What do you mean, either way?”
“Them or the Russians,” he replied over his shoulder, fussing over cup, saucer, spoon. “Did you encounter one of their automatons? Did it cause you any trouble?”
“Two of them.” Kim realised she was swaying slightly on her feet. She’d barely slept since the morning before, or eaten. “Not too much. I noticed that they had to stop whenever anything caught them by surprise. Like they had enough power to react to things, or to move, but not for both. Once I saw that, it was just a matter of timing.”
Smith turned back, a saucer on his hand, a smile lifting his moustache. “Very clever. They’re clockwork. Very, very good clockwork – the best in the world, really – but still just clockwork. The best of the Chinese automatons are slower and less reliable than any Britannian automaton patrolling the streets of this city.”
He made his way back to his seat and eased himself into it, setting the saucer on the faded green leather of his desk. “They were agents of the Imperial Ministry for Foreign Affairs. Their own signalmen no doubt saw an intercepted signal bound for Afghanistan, and thought it would benefit their cause if they got their hands on it.”
“Would it?” Kim blinked; in the heat and stillness of Smith’s office, she was starting to feel sleepy. “Actually, may I have that tea?”
Smith waved to the tea set. “Undoubtedly, if not in the way they imagined. The information these details will – I hope – lead me to will be extremely valuable to anyone involved in politics, but they are nothing to do with Afghanistan.”
Kim made herself a tea – black, sweet, with a slice of lemon – and sat at the seat in front of Smith’s desk. “And China wants Afghanistan.”
Smith leaned back in his seat, lacing his hands across his belly as he’d done before. “ Everyone wants Afghanistan. It’s the high ground of the east; if you hold the Pamir Mountains, you’ve got India by the throat. Most of the rest of the continent, for that matter. At the moment, it’s Britannian, but if China takes it, or Russia, Britannia’s claim on India will waver.”
Kim nodded, then sipped her tea, reflecting. “Smith?”
“Yes, Kim?”
“You work for the East India Company, don’t you? You do things they need to do without having to admit they’re doing them?”
“That’s right, Kim.”
“But you said you and my father, and your teacher... you wanted a free India. Why work for them?”
“Ah, yes.” Smith pushed his seat back, regarded Kim for a moment. “In answer to your question, a question. Which would you prefer rule India: Britannia, Russia or China?”
Kim set her cup back down. “None of them, of course! I want a free India, like you.”
Smith smiled broadly. “That wasn’t one of your options, Kim.” He sighed. “And that’s the problem. One day it will be, but until then, I much prefer Victoria to Hongxian or the Romanovs.”
He reached for an envelope on his desk. “Here is your payment. You’ll want some time to recover, and to spend with your family.
“Your next job will be abroad...”
THE GRAVEYARD OF SECRETS
None are so fond of secrets as those who do not plan to keep them.
– Charles Caleb Colton (1780 – 1832)
S INGAPORE, S TRAITS S ETTLEMENT, 1999
S INGAPORE WAS A riot of people and noise even at the quietest of times. Their airship had docked at quarter past two in the morning, but even at that hour the streets had been
He tilted his head slightly. “Yes, Kim?”
“Who were they, Smith? The Chinese men following me?”
Smith heaved himself ponderously out of his seat and moved over to a sideboard, where a tea set had been laid out. “Chinese, was it? It could have gone either way. Tea?”
“No, thank you. What do you mean, either way?”
“Them or the Russians,” he replied over his shoulder, fussing over cup, saucer, spoon. “Did you encounter one of their automatons? Did it cause you any trouble?”
“Two of them.” Kim realised she was swaying slightly on her feet. She’d barely slept since the morning before, or eaten. “Not too much. I noticed that they had to stop whenever anything caught them by surprise. Like they had enough power to react to things, or to move, but not for both. Once I saw that, it was just a matter of timing.”
Smith turned back, a saucer on his hand, a smile lifting his moustache. “Very clever. They’re clockwork. Very, very good clockwork – the best in the world, really – but still just clockwork. The best of the Chinese automatons are slower and less reliable than any Britannian automaton patrolling the streets of this city.”
He made his way back to his seat and eased himself into it, setting the saucer on the faded green leather of his desk. “They were agents of the Imperial Ministry for Foreign Affairs. Their own signalmen no doubt saw an intercepted signal bound for Afghanistan, and thought it would benefit their cause if they got their hands on it.”
“Would it?” Kim blinked; in the heat and stillness of Smith’s office, she was starting to feel sleepy. “Actually, may I have that tea?”
Smith waved to the tea set. “Undoubtedly, if not in the way they imagined. The information these details will – I hope – lead me to will be extremely valuable to anyone involved in politics, but they are nothing to do with Afghanistan.”
Kim made herself a tea – black, sweet, with a slice of lemon – and sat at the seat in front of Smith’s desk. “And China wants Afghanistan.”
Smith leaned back in his seat, lacing his hands across his belly as he’d done before. “ Everyone wants Afghanistan. It’s the high ground of the east; if you hold the Pamir Mountains, you’ve got India by the throat. Most of the rest of the continent, for that matter. At the moment, it’s Britannian, but if China takes it, or Russia, Britannia’s claim on India will waver.”
Kim nodded, then sipped her tea, reflecting. “Smith?”
“Yes, Kim?”
“You work for the East India Company, don’t you? You do things they need to do without having to admit they’re doing them?”
“That’s right, Kim.”
“But you said you and my father, and your teacher... you wanted a free India. Why work for them?”
“Ah, yes.” Smith pushed his seat back, regarded Kim for a moment. “In answer to your question, a question. Which would you prefer rule India: Britannia, Russia or China?”
Kim set her cup back down. “None of them, of course! I want a free India, like you.”
Smith smiled broadly. “That wasn’t one of your options, Kim.” He sighed. “And that’s the problem. One day it will be, but until then, I much prefer Victoria to Hongxian or the Romanovs.”
He reached for an envelope on his desk. “Here is your payment. You’ll want some time to recover, and to spend with your family.
“Your next job will be abroad...”
THE GRAVEYARD OF SECRETS
None are so fond of secrets as those who do not plan to keep them.
– Charles Caleb Colton (1780 – 1832)
S INGAPORE, S TRAITS S ETTLEMENT, 1999
S INGAPORE WAS A riot of people and noise even at the quietest of times. Their airship had docked at quarter past two in the morning, but even at that hour the streets had been