The Revolution Trade (Merchant Princes Omnibus 3) by Stross Charles Read Free Book Online Page B

something that might disqualify you . . . ?’
    Mike swallowed again. ‘Uh, what do you mean?’
    James gestured irritably: ‘I can’t tell you what you’re needed for until you’ve been cleared. Additional background checks will be required. So this is your chance to
come clean about anything you wouldn’t want to disclose during a polygraph interrogation.’
    ‘You’re offering me an amnesty?’ Mike raised an eyebrow.
    ‘Son, I don’t care if you’re f– . . . sleeping with the Russian ambassador’s grandson; all I care is that you’re not keeping secrets from
me
,
you’re not going to embarrass me in front of an internal affairs polygraph, and you’re up to, to listening in on a bunch of conversations in gook-speak and translating them into English
for me. And keeping a lid on it. So. Is there anything you really
don’t
want to be quizzed about during your clearance interview?’
    ‘I – ’ The penny dropped. ‘It’s not CLEANSWEEP that’s so damn secret, is it?’ he said without thinking. ‘It’s the content, isn’t it?
You’ve got some kind of source – ’
    ‘Mr. Fleming.’ Dr. James’s stare was leaden. ‘What do we pay you for?’
    Mike winced. ‘Sorry. Forget I asked.’ He took a deep breath. ‘As for your question, I’m not blackmailable. Nothing to hide here.’ He tapped his chest. ‘So.
When do I begin?’
    ‘Soon as you go back to the office, son. You’ll be scheduled for a full security re-cert within a couple of days, then I’ll have some extra work for you. Which will go on your
worksheet as routine admin, incidentally. That should keep you busy right up until the invasion.’
    ‘Invasion?’ Mike echoed incredulously. ‘You’re going to invade the Gruinmarkt?’
    ‘We’re going to have to sooner or later. Unless you’ve got any better ideas for how we ought to handle the existence of such a major security threat to American soil . . .
?’
    ‘But how?’
    James cast Mike a knowing look. ‘Ask me again when you’re cleared.’

RECEPTION COMMITTEE
    Baron Otto Neuhalle was afraid of very few things; the wrath of gods, the scorn of women, and the guns of his enemies were not among them. He was, however, utterly terrified of
one man – Egon the First, former crown prince and now self-proclaimed monarch of Gruinmarkt. Egon was a handsome-faced, graceful, hale, and charismatic young man who had all the pity of a
rattlesnake for those who failed him. Even if Otto hadn’t failed yet, failure nevertheless looked disturbingly possible in light of the witch-clan’s continuing occupation of the Hjalmar
Palace. And the cloud of dust he could see from his vantage point near the brow of the hill was almost certainly the vanguard of Egon’s army.
    ‘Another hour, sir,’ said Anders, who had materialized at his elbow while he peered through the witch-bought ‘binoculars’.
    ‘Nonsense, they’ll be three at least – ’ He blinked. ‘Wait.
What
will be another hour?’
    ‘The ammunition, my lord.’
    ‘
Scheisse . . .
’ Otto turned back to the castle, barely visible behind its banked ramparts on the other side of the moat and the sloped killing apron. Bodies littered the
ground before it, and clouds of smoke still billowed from the gatehouse his men had latterly abandoned. He’d gotten two of the witch-clan’s machine guns out of the gatehouse to cover
his soldiers’ retreat, but things hadn’t gone well: The enemy forces had laid down a stupefying volume of fire, and they’d brought some kind of artillery with them, not honest
cannon but an arquebus-sized tube that belched fingers of flame that exploded on impact. And his gunners, undertrained, had burned through their ammunition too fast.
They weren’t supposed
to counter-attack for at least a day. If it hadn’t been for that flying spy
. . . He shook his head. The buzzing witch-bird would cut less ice with his majesty than the heat-warped
machine gun barrels and prematurely expended