“Weather?” Jeff asked.
“Yes,” Greenaugh said. “They want an observer as soon as possible, but only on a day that we can guarantee will have clear weather, no storms or high winds, in the Corliss Grant area.” The captain shrugged. “No difficulty this time of year, of course.”
“But no explanation given?” Jeff asked.
“None ”
“Whatever they intend,” Ackoff said, “this is an opportunity to find out what they’re doing out there. I will give you credentials — meaningless, of course — certifying you as an official witness, and you’ll be sent in answer to this request. The computer says the weather down there ought to be fine for at least another five or six days, so you can leave tomorrow.”
“Take a couple of Marines, lad,” Greenaugh said. “And keep an open communication line to headquarters. I’ll have someone listening in, just in case. We’ll get you out if we possibly can.”
The Corliss Grant Hills were located on a long peninsula jutting southward nearly a thousand kilometers from Haven City, the most southerly portion of the Kingdom of Haven. Jeff sat in the first-class compartment of the surprisingly fast train and watched the countryside roll past. There was little else to do. The palace equerry assigned to escort him was not talkative. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see, either. This part of Haven was mostly farmland dotted with patches of swamp. Once something large and dangerous-appearing reared out of the swamp, but it didn’t challenge the train itself, and they were moving too fast for Jeff to see what the beast really was.
After a while the rail line cut inward through rolling brown hills cluttered with low brush. Jeff shook his head in perplexity. The compartment grew hotter with each kilometer they traveled southward; now it was downright uncomfortable. As a location for a secret research station, the Corliss Grant Hills had nothing to recommend them except isolation. Why, he wondered, why would the government of Haven choose to send a large part of their budget and increasing numbers of their all-too-scarce trained personnel to this godforsaken area?
The train slowed with screeching of brakes and hiss of steam. Jefferson collected the two Marines Greenaugh had sent with him and allowed himself to be led off the train. There was a small group led by an officer of the Haven Royal Army waiting on the platform. The officer — a colonel by his insignia — seemed vaguely familiar. Jefferson frowned, trying to recall him.
“MacKinnie,” Jefferson said. “Trader MacKinnie. I hadn’t known you were in the Haven army.” Although, he thought, I might have guessed. “Does this mysterious event you want us to observe have something to do with the expedition to Makassar?”
MacKinnie’s smile was noncommittal. “Less than we’d like,” he said. “But I suppose you could say so. Welcome to Corliss Grant, Lieutenant. Our transport is just over here-”
The steam car was luxurious. Jefferson declined a drink from the built-in bar and tried to question MacKinnie, but the Haven officer wasn’t answering questions.
“All in due time,” Jeff was told. “All in due time. Fortunately the weather is perfect—”
“As you knew it would be,” Jefferson said.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Four times they passed through guarded gates. The soldiers on duty seemed quite alert, and were highly deferential to MacKinnie. Curiouser and curiouser, Jeff thought. “I take it you’re not in charge of this show?”
MacKinnie shook his head. “No, you’ll be meeting some of His Majesty’s ministers shortly. I’m just supposed to get you on post and feed you lunch.”
“Skip the lunch,"Jeff said. “Let’s get to why I’m here.”
“Can’t skip the lunch.” MacKinnie said. “Timings rather critical, I’m afraid.”
MacKinnie’s half smile was irritating. There was something else, too, an air of tension. Colonel MacKinnie’s worried about something, Jeff thought. Worried and trying not to show it. I wonder—
There was a series of loud explosions. Jeff sat bolt upright. His hand flew to his sidearm before he noticed that MacKinnie hadn’t moved. “Put it away, Donivtsky,” Jeff told his Marine escort. “I will say I’m pleased to see how fast you can draw that weapon.”
“Sir.”
“Colonel, what the devil was that?”
“Experimental cannon. Fires several hundred rounds a minute,” MacKinnie said. “They’re testing it. You’ll see it soon enough.”
“Did you drag me down here in this heat to look at a cannon?”
“Not exactly. Ah. Here we are.”
The car pulled up in front of a large wooden building. There were armed sentries on duty outside it, and more soldiers waiting to open the car doors for them. Again Jeff had the impression of tension, of something about to happen, but there was nothing definite, and certainly nothing threatening.
He was led inside to an ornate dining room where white-uniformed mess stewards served an excellent meal. Jeff declined wine, but was persuaded to have a small glass of grua after he ate. Conversation was minimal, and once again MacKinnie avoided answering his questions.
When they finished, MacKinnie stood. “And now it is time to meet my lord Dougal, His Majesty’s cabinet officer in charge of this establishment. If you’ll come with me-”
They didn’t have to go far. Jeff was privately amused. It wasn’t unknown for colonials to show their importance by insisting on elaborate rules of precedence. Obviously a mere lieutenant wasn’t important enough for a cabinet officer to have lunch with.
There could have been a scene at the office door. Jeff’s Marines didn’t want to be separated from him. “My apologies, Colonel,” Jeff said. “The sergeant has been ordered to protect me—”
“Surely not from us,” MacKinnie said. “On this post that’s my job.”
And he looks plenty insulted, too, Jeff thought. Oh, hell. “I’ll be right out, Sergeant,” Jeff told Donivtsky. “Please wait for me here.”
The Marine wasn’t pleased. His “Sir!” made that clear. Jeff went into the paneled office musing on just how much expression a senior NCO could put into a monosyllable.
The man seated at the large desk certainly didn’t look dangerous. Jeff remembered meeting him briefly at some palace function or another.
“My lord Dougal, minister without portfolio,” MacKinnie said. As Jeff shook hands with Dougal, MacKinnie closed the door.
“Very kind of you to come,” Dougal said. “Please have a seat. Thank you. Grua?”
“I’ve been entertained well, my lord,” Jeff said. “If you’ll pardon me, I’m overcome with curiosity about why I’m here.”
“Yes, of course you are,” Dougal said. “If you could please give me your credentials as an official observer for the Empire?”
Jeff handed over the documents. They were studded with seals. “Dazzlers,” Ackoff had called them. Since there wasn’t any such office as “official witness” the text had been cobbled up by Ackoff’s secretary. It was possible that the locals could read some of the Imperial language — their own wasn’t all that different from Angelic — so the documents states, in flowery terms, that Lieutenant Jefferson was empowered to observe and make an official report.
Dougal examined the papers, then put them in his desk. “If you’ll excuse me one more moment?” He lifted a small tube from the desk and put it to his ear, listened, then spoke into it. “Excellent. Please ask H.M. to be ready to come in.” He put the tube back on the desk and turned to Jefferson. “Indeed, it is time we had a long discussion, Lieutenant. I would rather your government had sent a more senior officer, but you’ll have to do. First, though, I must make a strange request. Would you allow me to lock your sidearm in my desk?”