For King & Country by Robert Asprin, Linda Evans, James Baen Read Free Book Online

brace, the crutch-cane. "I see the Home Office has dispatched its best, as usual."
    Stirling produced a nasty smile. "I often question the wisdom of the Home Ministry."
    Beckett reddened, then bit out, "You'll want the tour, I suppose?"
    "Bit of a problem designing security measures without one."
    "Well, there's no one here tonight, so you'll bloody well have to wait. Gone to the damned pub, they have, bunch of lazy bastards. See to it our
Captain,
" the emphasis he laid on the word made it an insult, "receives the grand tour in the morning, Blundell. Now get out. I'm much too busy to be bothered. And see that he doesn't touch a single, bloody piece of equipment on his way through the door!" Whereupon Beckett presented his back and became reabsorbed in his computer screen, which presented the disgruntled physicist with what amounted to colorful gibberish, as far as Stirling could determine.
    The moment the door was closed, Blundell started to apologize.
    "No, don't bother," Stirling waved off the flood of embarrassed words. "He doesn't want me here any more than I care to be here myself, so we're even on that score. Show me round the place anyway, then we'll stop at the Falkland Arms and meet everyone, shall we?"
    Blundell's worry faded at once. "Right. Frightfully glad you understand about Dr. Beckett. He's a bit of a stickler, you see, utterly dedicated, doesn't see the need for all the security fuss."
    "Let's hope he's right," Stirling muttered.
    Blundell gulped, quivering like a frightened rabbit, then escorted him on a bizarre tour of an utterly empty facility, allowing him to memorize the laboratory's layout, the location of every door—particularly those left unlocked—and the placement of each piece of equipment. He was careful to ask which equipment required outside maintenance. The laboratory wasn't much to look at, really, just a lot of computers, an innocuous enough hospital-style ward with several beds and a cabinet for medical supplies, and a tangle of high-tech equipment that might have come straight out of some American science fiction film. If there were a time machine hidden amongst the jumble, he couldn't place it by sight.
    When Blundell attempted to explain what each item did, Stirling's eyes crossed.
    "You can give me the detailed explanations tomorrow," he muttered, vowing to get a decent night's sleep before attempting to comprehend the science behind this crackpot setup. "I'd like to meet the staff now, if you please."
    "Of course, Captain."
    A quarter of an hour later, the battered Land Rover pulled to a halt in a muddy carpark outside the brightly lit pub where Stirling had occasionally stopped for a pint on his way to and from university classes at Edinburgh. Blundell set the brake and shut off the engine. "We'll speak to Mrs. Falkland about a room at one of the cottages, shall we? Get you settled, then join the others?"
    "No," Stirling shook his head, "introduce me round, then speak to Mrs. Falkland yourself, while I'm busy making everyone's acquaintance. I'd rather make my impressions of them before they've a chance to make them of me, which won't happen if I arrange lodgings first. Get a room as close to the road as possible, even if it means shifting someone else, so I can keep track of comings and goings."
    "Very well." His request clearly disgruntled Blundell, who probably didn't relish being spied upon any more than the others would, once they found out.
    The roisterous interior of the Falkland Arms public house hadn't changed much in four years. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, accompanied by the scent of ale and bitters, chips in the deep-fryer, tobacco smoke, and spiced curry and popadums, a London import. The pub was full to capacity, mostly with tourists who'd come for the region's favorite outdoor pastimes. The roar of voices talking incessantly about the fish, the weather, the grouse, and the golf, was punctuated by spurts of laughter and the clink of glassware. The research team