A Game of Battleships by Toby Frost Read Free Book Online

man.
    Suruk leaned in to Smith’s side. ‘Mazuran, I fear that these ancients require special treatment.’ He  smiled horribly and cracked his knuckles.
    ‘I’m not sure that’s really –’ Smith began, but by then Suruk’s shadow had fallen across the table.
    The alien cleared his throat sacs with a sound like a car backfiring. The old men looked up.
    ‘ Felicitations, humains ,’ the alien declared. ‘ Ou est la Rue Charles de Gaul e, s’il vous plait? Je voudrai attender un concert du jazz moderne. ’
    ‘ Le jazz moderne? ’ the nearer of the two replied.
    ‘ Oui ,” Suruk replied. “ Especialment le Serge Gainsbourg .’
    ‘ Mais oui! ’ The man leaped up, threw his arms open, looked at Suruk, thought better of it, and pointed down the road instead. Suruk nodded, listening.
    Smith turned to Carveth. ‘What’s he doing? Is he getting directions?’
    Suruk returned, still smiling. ‘Good Lord,’ Smith said as he approached, ‘how the devil did you  manage that?’
    ‘It was most simple,’ the alien replied. ‘All I had to do to make them co-operate was address  them in their own strange parlance. Now, follow me, old bean. Chop-chop.’
    ‘Shall do!’ Smith cried.
    Adenauerplatz stood at the very edge of the German quarter, behind the Rue Charles de Gaulle,  near to the Place Charles de Gaulle and the Avenue Napoleon et Charles de Gaulle. They turned the  corner, and looked into a square as neat as a snooker table, lined with glass-fronted houses. On the far side stood a bright white cube three stories high.
    Smith turned to his men. ‘Look,’ he announced, ‘I’m going to try to communicate with these  fellows. Why don’t you go and have a look round while I get this done?’
    ‘I think I shall assess the local shops for, ah, implements,’ Suruk said. ‘I will come and find you  later. You should not be too hard to find.’
    ‘Good plan. What about you ladies? I’m sure this meeting won’t involve anything you’d find  interesting.’
    ‘Except the spaceship of which I’m the pilot?’ Carveth shrugged. ‘Nah, you can deal with this.  I’m off for a drink and a pasty.’
    Rhianna wore her considering things expression. ‘On the one hand,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I do believe that any consultation on this should be decided with the participation of everyone concerned. On the other hand, I need to find a Dutch café and get some supplies.’
    Smith decided not to inquire further. He approached the bright white cube.
    Inside was a large desk, behind which a young man with a headset was typing at the smallest  keyboard he had ever seen. As Smith approached the desk, the man stopped typing and said, ‘Captain  Smith? Good morning. Commissioner Jurgens will see you now. Please do head through the door there,’  he added, pointing to a blank wall.
    A section of the wall swung inward with a gentle hiss of air. Behind the door stood a short,  middle-aged man in a roll-neck sweater and blue blazer. ‘Good morning!’ he exclaimed, stepping back.
    ‘Do come in, please. I am Frank Jurgens, Deputy Commissioner. I have been expecting you, as they say.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Smith. Jurgens’ office looked rather like a normal room, if somewhat whiter  and more angular. The furniture seemed to have been built to solve a geometry problem, but that aside, it was actually quite normal, Smith thought as he looked around. You could almost think it was Brit – wait a moment!
    He stopped before a framed poster. On a red background, four stern men in identical outfits  stood in a row, glaring towards the horizon. Uniforms, horizon-staring, ferocious youths of indeterminate sexual preference? This could only mean one thing – the sinister world of foreign politics! Jurgens had seemed such a nice chap, too. But then, Europe was part of abroad . You never knew…
    “Ah, Kraftwerk,” Jurgens said, noticing Smith’s interest. ‘Some very great musicians have come  from