Iron Sunrise by Charles Stross Read Free Book Online Page A

of convenience?" Minion Number Two chirped out, hunting for an opportunistic shot.
    "I would say the facts do tend to support that assumption," Minion Number One agreed.
    "The facts of the matter are that you appear to have spent a great deal of UN money without achieving anything of any significance," Madam Chairman trilled in a singsong. She was on a roll: she leaned forward, bosom heaving with emotion and cheeks flushed with triumph as she prepared for the kill. "We hold you to account for this operation, Junior Attaché Mansour. Not to put too fine a point on it, you wasted more than two million ecus of official funds on a wildcat mission that didn't deliver any measurable benefits you can point to. You're on the personnel roster under my oversight, and your screwup makes Entertainments and Culture look bad. Or hadn't you realized the adverse impact your spy fantasies might have on the serious job of marketing our constituent's products abroad? I can find some minor contributions to the bottom line on your part m the distant past, but you're very short on mitigating factors; for that reason, we're going to give you twenty-seven—"
    "Twenty-six!" interrupted Minion Number Two.
    "—Twenty-six days to submit to a full extra-departmental audit with a remit to prepare a report on the disposition of funds during operation Mike November Charlie Four Seven-slash-Delta, and to evaluate the best practices compliance of your quality outcome assurance in the context of preventing that brushfire conflict from turning into a full-scale interstellar war." Madam Chairman simpered at her own brilliance, fanning herself with a hard copy of Rachel's public-consumption report.
    "A full-scale audit?" Rachel burst out: "You stupid, stupid, desk pilot!" She glanced round, fingering the control rings for her personal assist twitchily. A security guard would have gone for the floor at that point, but Rachel managed to restrain herself even though the adrenaline was flowing, and the upgrades installed in her parasympathetic peripheral nervous system were boosting her toward combat readiness. "Try to audit me. Just try it!"
    She crossed her arms tensely. "You'll hit a brick wall. Who's in your management matrix grid? Do you think we can't reach all of them? Do you really want to annoy the Black Chamber?"
    Madam Chairman rose and faced Rachel stiffly, like a cobra ready to spit.
    "You, you slimy little minx, you cowboy—" she hissed, waving a finger under Rachel's nose—"I'll see you on the street before you're ever listed under Entertainments and Culture again! I know your game, you scheming little pole-climber, and I'll—"
    Rachel was about to reply when her left earlobe buzzed. "Excuse me a moment," she said, raising a hand, "incoming." She cupped a hand to her ear. "Yeah, who is this?"
    "Stop that at once! This is my audit committee, not a talking shop—"
    "Polis dispatch. Are you Rachel Mansour? SXB active three-zero-two? Can you confirm your identity?"
    Rachel stood up, her pulse pounding, feeling weak with shock. "Yes, that's me," she said distantly. "Here's my fingerprint." She touched a finger to her forehead, coupling a transdermal ID implant to the phone so that it could vouch for her.
    "Someone stop her! Philippe, can't you jam her? This is a disgrace!"
    "Voiceprint confirmed. I have you authenticated. This is the Fourth Republican Police Corporation, dispatch control for Geneva. You're in the Place du Molard, aren't you? We have an urgent SXB report that's just across the way from you. We've called in the regional squad, but it's our bad luck that something big's going down just outside Brasilia, and the whole team is out there providing backup. They can't get back in less than two hours, and the headcase is threatening us with an excursion in only fifty-four minutes."
    "Oh. Oh, hell!" Situations like this tended to dredge up reflexive blasphemies left over from her upbringing. Rachel turned toward the door, blanking on her