Tallis frowned. ‘Eh?’
Craddock was up to the mark. ‘When guano is refined, it’s a vital source of nitrates – what we used to call saltpetre. For fertilizer. And explosives.’
‘Munitions,’ Sir Darius said. ‘Every bullet, every shell is dependent on nitrates for its power. Albion companies have a monopoly on shipping San Martin guano. And San Martin guano supplies most of the world.’
‘Including Holmland?’ Aubrey asked.
‘At the moment, yes,’ Sir Darius said. ‘But if it comes to war, Holmland’s supply would be cut off, with disastrous consequences for its armaments.’
‘So no wonder they’re sniffing around the guano.’ George made a face. ‘Makes me feel quite ill, that thought.’
‘All this doesn’t put Stafford Bruce in the clear,’ Sir Darius said. ‘Unfortunately.’
Tallis grunted. ‘We’ll make a copy of this document, alter the sensitive parts, and replace it in the bookshop. Then we’ll monitor the place to see who arrives to pick it up.’ He smiled. ‘And if this agent is foolish enough to return to Bruce’s office, we’ll nab him there. If not, we’ll have to work harder.’
‘We’ll find him,’ Craddock said. ‘And then we’ll know what he’s up to.’
‘And who will be overseeing this?’ Sir Darius said. ‘Is this the domain of your department, Craddock, or yours, Tallis?’
Aubrey watched the reaction of the two men with interest. Both seemed unhappy with his father’s words, but neither wanted to say as much. Tallis scowled, his heavy eyebrows almost threatening to meet the moustache on his upcurled top lip. Craddock, on the other hand, merely stiffened, his mouth slightly tensing, his nostrils constricting by the tiniest amount as if to ward off a nasty smell.
‘We have a reorganisation under way,’ Sir Darius said to Aubrey. ‘And it affects you, and your irregular status with the Magisterium.’
‘Magisterium no more,’ Craddock said. ‘I am now in charge of the Magic Department of the Security Intelligence Directorate.’
‘Which is part of the Ministry of Defence,’ Sir Darius said. ‘Two departments, Special Services and Magic, working together instead of at odds. It’s what we need in these times.’
‘Of course, Prime Minister,’ Tallis said, but Aubrey could see from the sidelong look he gave to his colleague that Tallis was already imagining himself in charge of the entire Security Intelligence Directorate.
It made sense, uniting the two squabbling intelligence agencies. Aubrey, though, wondered if it would be a happy arrangement.
‘If you gentlemen are finished,’ Sir Darius said, ‘I need to talk to my son.’
‘Another time then, Prime Minister,’ Craddock said. ‘I still have some items to discuss regarding our new arrangements.’
Tallis looked at him sharply. ‘If we’re finished, Prime Minister, I have matters to attend to. National security matters,’ he added, just to emphasise that he, for one, was more concerned with the fate of the country than with playing internal power games.
It was a ruse that failed simply because it was so transparent.
Once the two warring power-seekers left, Sir Darius slumped in a chair. ‘Good men, both of them. But they’ll be the death of me.’
‘Taylor will take care of them,’ Aubrey said without much confidence. The Minister of Defence was competent, but he had a feeling that more than mere competence would be needed to keep those two in check.
‘Let’s hope so.’ Sir Darius rubbed his face with both hands and Aubrey saw how weary he was. He felt sorry for his father, but he knew that this fatigue wouldn’t abate unless international tensions miraculously ebbed, a situation about as likely as Caroline saying she really liked staying home and knitting instead of adventuring.
He nearly slapped himself on the forehead. Caroline. She’d be furious if he didn’t take her along on a Holmland adventure. But she couldn’t come with them, not unchaperoned. While she didn’t care a fig for such outdated things, Aubrey was sure that – reluctantly – his mother would insist on utter propriety in her troupe. She wouldn’t want the Holmlanders to have any excuse for offence.
He put that knotty problem aside for later.
Sir Darius drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair. ‘Aubrey, in Fisherberg, I want you to be my eyes and ears. Keep an eye on the Prince. And on your mother.’
‘She knows that the Prince is going?’
‘I told her. That’s when I suggested your going with her.’
‘And her reaction?’
‘I was surprised. She quite liked the idea – but she didn’t want to inconvenience you.’
‘Happy to do it,’ George said, then he blushed. Both Aubrey and his father knew about George’s infatuation with Lady Rose and had, with commendable restraint, never spoken of it. It lingered, a source of mild unspoken amusement, between Aubrey and his father and – perhaps – his mother.
‘Good,’ Sir Darius said, ‘but I’m asking you to keep your wits about you. About Holmland in general. I’d be interested, in particular, to hear your impressions of Chancellor Neumann.’
‘Have you met him?’
‘Once. Forceful chap. Ex-military, which is only to be expected in a Holmland politician.’ Sir Darius looked thoughtful. ‘He spent time in their Second Rifle Brigade as a sharpshooter, of all things.’
‘The Chancellor?’ George said. ‘I thought he would have been an officer type.’
‘He was, but not straight away. Apparently he insisted on seeing life as the ordinary infantryman did. Interesting fellow. I look forward to getting your observations directly.’
Aubrey saw it immediately. ‘You want us to report to you, rather than have reports filtered through Craddock and Tallis.’
‘That’s part of it. The other part is that you have shown that you have a knack for the – how shall I put it – unconventional? I’d feel much better knowing that the outlandish is being taken care of as well as the obvious.’
‘Unconventional?’ Aubrey repeated, feeling strangely unoffended.
‘And outlandish,’ George added.
‘I see.’
Sir Darius grinned. ‘Perhaps I should call you my insurance against the unexpected. The others can handle the straightforward security matters, but with you on the spot, the Prince – and your mother – will be much safer.’
‘I’m sure we can do it between the two of us,’ Aubrey said and George nodded his agreement. ‘Is there anything in particular we should be aware of?’
Sir Darius frowned. He sat back and uncrossed his legs. ‘Nothing concrete. But there is chatter.’
Aubrey nodded. Chatter was intelligence talk. Intercepted communications. Overheard snatches of conversations. Vague rumours. Information bought from those willing to sell. None of which was definitive, but added together chatter sometimes gave a flavour, a sense of something in the wind. When the sheer amount of chatter rose, peaking like a wave, it was enough to give intelligence chiefs sleepless nights, being aware that something was afoot, without knowing exactly what it was.
‘Any names being mentioned in this chatter?’ Aubrey asked with an attempt at nonchalance.
‘Our friend Dr Tremaine has been whispered about. But then again, his progress through the ranks of Holmland has been the source of much gossip for some time now.’ He grimaced. ‘And there appears to be brigand trouble on the Holmland–Gallia border – they may be rebels, one never knows – and some oddness going on in Fisherberg itself.’
‘Oddness?’ Aubrey asked.
‘Magical oddness. Should be your cup of tea, Aubrey.’
Fourteen
Aubrey enjoyed travel. It didn’t matter if it were by train, boat or horse and cart, he loved the anticipation of arriving in a different place. The perspectives that were granted a traveller were special and changing, always being glimpsed and left behind, with something new just ahead.