He did not always get his way, of course not. But he was rarely defeated for ever. Thirty years ago he had proposed to end the toleration of renegades and dissidents. A single and thorough policy of elimination to dispose of people who produced little, contributed less and consumed far too much administrative time. For the benefit of the majority, the minority would have to go. He was defeated; one of his rare reverses. Now he wished to revisit the issue. All critics and dissidents would have to be removed before this new opportunity could be exploited safely, otherwise nothing would happen. There would be objections, proposals to amend his plans, claims that others should have their say.
When reports came in that Angela’s programme was getting close to the testing phase, Oldmanter had started to manoeuvre his way into winning control of the technology and found, to his surprise, that it was barely necessary. Hanslip actually came to him, dropping hints and proposals, talking of other interested parties, rival bidders. Well, let him convince himself of his genius at negotiation, if it pleased him and made him more malleable. The only thing that mattered was the result, and that was slowly dropping into his lap. He submitted to endless meetings but eventually lost patience and summoned Lucien Grange.
‘Go to Mull and wrap this one up, if you please. I can’t stand listening to that man any more.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Everything. The entire institute. That way we can hide what we are really interested in until we are ready. I don’t want the World Council demanding a say in how it is developed. I want to be sure that by the time anyone hears about it, it will be too late to challenge me. There’s a woman there called Meerson. You may remember her. Steer clear but make sure you secure her services, willingly given or not. She’s vital. Keep her team, get rid of everyone else.’
‘What about the terms? You’ve been talking about a fifty — fifty split. Is that still the case?’
‘Certainly not. Give Hanslip nothing if you can; that will teach him not to waste my time. You have the information needed to access the computers; copy the relevant documentation, get legal possession, then kick him out.’
That was the last anyone heard of Lucien Grange, apart from a brief message a week later saying that he had acquired the data and would be back the following day. The next thing Oldmanter knew was that there had been an almighty power surge across northern Europe that had caused chaos. In the outrage and confusion that followed, none had been more outraged and confused than Hanslip, who put out a furious demand with surprising speed that the people responsible be caught and punished immediately. Curious. Oldmanter tried to get hold of Grange to see what was going on but — nothing. He did not reply to messages, could not be tracked, and when Oldmanter asked Hanslip’s institute, he was told only that Grange had left the island of Mull and was no longer their responsibility. After that his calls went unanswered.
The tracking devices suggested that Grange had not left the island but, at the same time, there was no evidence he was still on it. They had simply stopped functioning, which could not happen. That made no sense, so Oldmanter sent some people to keep the island under surveillance. They picked up More leaving and hurrying south. More then confirmed that Angela was missing, and that data had been lost. So he watched, and saw More go to the Retreat. It didn’t take much investigation to work out why. He was going to contact Angela Meerson’s child, the result of the enhancement Oldmanter had organised for her eighteen years ago.
Oldmanter had only the faintest outline of what it meant, but he had enough to realise it was time to take command of the situation. He announced that Hanslip was a suspect in the power surge case, hinted strongly that he was in league with terrorist renegades and demanded that he surrender control of his institute. He gave him three hours to comply and mobilised his troops, which he placed at the disposal of the world community to eradicate the danger that had suddenly sprouted in their midst. What if, he said to his colleagues on the Council who contacted him, the attack on northern Europe was merely the first in a wave of attacks? A trial run before the real assault began?
At the same time he put out an alert for Jack More as the link between the institute and the terrorists. He had uncovered a monstrous plot of treachery and vowed to take the lead in punishing those responsible. If anyone had doubted the need to wipe out the Retreats, surely this hideous crime should sweep such qualms aside once and for all.
45
‘It seems the domain of Willdon is flooding us with surplus people. I have found you another unwanted guest, I’m afraid,’ Antros said to Pamarchon when he returned to the camp with the lost boy in tow.
‘Another one? Who is it this time?’ Pamarchon was agitated. The arrival of the prisoners, the shooting of one of them, made him feel his grip was not as tight as it needed to be. If he could not trust his men to obey orders, act carefully and sensibly...
‘A strange one. He speaks as well as you say this lady spoke. I think it probable that he knows her.’
‘Really?’ he said with quickening interest. ‘Did he say so?’
‘No. He was in shock, and I did not question him. He was wandering lost in the forest, and had ventured into a copse of the dead.’
Pamarchon grimaced.
‘He had no idea it was forbidden,’ Antros said. ‘I thought I should bring him here.’
‘Yes. You did exactly right.’ He sighed. ‘Antros, dear friend, I must tell you something.’
‘What?’
‘I am in love.’
‘Oh,’ Antros said in relief. ‘That. I noticed. I thought you were going to cancel our plans, or something serious.’
‘This is serious. Did you really notice?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Please don’t laugh. I was struck the moment I saw her. I could barely speak, couldn’t even see closely, I was trembling so much. I have never felt like it before. Since the Festivity, I find that Rosalind is all I can think of. I know I should be worrying about other things, but I haven’t slept or eaten since then. I worry that she bewitched me or cursed me.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘No, it is only my own foolishness, but I cannot shake it off. What am I to do?’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Antros said, trying hard not to laugh. ‘What are you meant to do? You could kill yourself, like Vatel in Level 3. Or wander the land dressed in rags, like Hipergal. Or you could rush in and carry her off, like...’
Pamarchon held up his hand. ‘Stop! I am a desperate man, and do not need to be made fun of as well. I can cope with danger and condemnation. I can live off my wits and lead men into a fight. But I have no idea what to do about this.’
Antros thought. ‘Talk to the boy about it,’ he said. ‘If you are in love, as you say, it would be best to find out who you are in love with, no?’
As Pamarchon went off to check the night watch, Antros told the peculiar youth that he was to eat with their chieftain that evening, so that he might be welcomed and questioned. He thought it might distract his friend, at least. He loved nothing better than to converse with the educated and there was little possibility of that at the camp. He had gathered good, stout people around him, but their conversation rarely rose above the simplest levels.
So, as the sun was setting, he led the boy Ganimed to the area which Pamarchon reserved for himself, where their leader’s awning stretched down from a huge old oak tree, and a clearing in front was set with the low table brought from inside and rough cushions to sit on. The food was already laid out and lanterns had been placed around to provide faint illumination. The student’s servant was there too, to pour the drink and serve the food. It was a measure of the boy’s strangeness that initially he talked to her as though she were a guest as well.