“You have thought this out well, I’m impressed.”
“It could even help us solve our current unfortunate siting problems.”
“Which are those?”
“Your new cyber-precincts.”
“Ah.” She experienced a feeling which was almost contentment.
“Absolutely,” Michael Harcourt continued eagerly. Wales could receive both of those precincts now. Beneficial all round, we feel.”
“I don’t quite see how that should be…” She affected a small puzzled frown.
“The Welsh would have the precincts, providing a great deal of badly-needed employment, and enhancing their local economy, more than they currently expect, while England receives the atomic structuring factories, which are surely the larger prize.”
“I thought the New Conservatives were hesitant about seeing the cyber-precincts going to Wales?”
“Not if it were our policy to site them there, and our efforts which finalized the deal.”
“But it would be dependent on Wales remaining within the union?”
“That is the best solution for everyone, don’t you think? These secessionists are so short-sighted. The larger the country, the greater its prospects and security, the more attractive it is for organizations like Event Horizon to base themselves here. Welsh independence would be a disaster for both the English and the Welsh.”
“North and South Italy both seem to have prospered since the split; and Germany is certainly doing well enough from devolving power to the regional governments. There are all three Californias as well. I could go on.”
“Yes, but it’s a question of scale, Julia; both the Italies are large entities. We no longer have Scotland and Northern Ireland; if Westminster was to lose control of Wales, where would it end? Would Cornwall declare independence, Cambridgeshire perhaps? We cannot allow any further reduction, it is simply inconceivable. Besides, these ridiculous micro-nations may not pursue the kind of market policies we in the New Conservative party believe in so strongly. Can you afford to entertain that possibility?”
Lord, this is all I need right now. Those bloody Welsh.
Smart of him to tie his go-between offer in with Wales, her grandfather said. And we do need him to find out what the other bids are. You’ll not split his offer package, Juliet. He’s not that stupid, this is his shot at the top slot; if it fails he won’t get another.
I’m not going to be rushed or bullied into making the Welsh decision now.
You may be running out of time on that particular issue, NN core one said. I believe I’ve tracked down the reason for Michael Harcourt’s sudden outbreak of apparent altruism.
Go on.
It’s rather mundane, really. The largest single employer in his West Kent constituency is Globecast. Their European network hub is sited there. And it was Harcourt himself who was briefed on atomic structuring by Clifford Jepson, he had an appointment at eight o’clock this morning; I pulled that from the Ministry ‘ware.
The bugger is Clifford Jepson’s cyborg, her grandfather said bitterly.
And of course, securing Event Horizon the atomic structuring partnership with Globecast, as well as enlisting your help over the Welsh question, will effectively guarantee him the leadership of the New Conseriative party NN core two said.
Plus Clifford makes sure Event Horizon pays through the nose, Julia added. He would be in a position where he could virtually dictate whatever price he wants for the generator data.
Neat, Philip Evans conceded. Clifford’s really pulling out the stops on this one. He gets you dancing to his tune, and his man in Number Ten.
The worst thing is, I don’t blame him, Julia said. I’d do exactly the same. She couldn’t help the cool bleakness that her world view had been correct in the final analysis. Michael Harcourt wasn’t any different to the rest. Nobody acted honourably any more, everybody had to have an angle.
Why do I bother? she mused.
Somebody’s got to, Juliet.
But why me?
My heritage, girl, Event Horizon gives you the power.
So it’s your fault, then, Grandpa?
If you like. You could always sell it-turn it over to someone else.
To people like Michael Harcourt and Clifford Jepson, you mean? No thank you, the world is in bad enough shape already.
That’s your answer then, girl.
Yeah.
She gave Michael Harcourt her ice maiden smile, enjoying the way he shrank back. Even over the phone people feared her. Stupid, but occasionally useful. “Very well, Minister, I’d be obliged if you would proceed with your unofficial liaison for me. I’ll ask Peter Cavendish to contact you for the details, when to submit the bid and so on.”
“Excellent, so we can expect a statement from Event Horizon on the cyber-precincts; that they will only be sited in Wales if it remains part of England?”
“Yes, as soon as it is appropriate to make such an announcement.”
“I’ll contact Clifford Jepson right away.”
“Thank you, Minister. It’s always a joy to learn exactly who I can depend on. I certainly shan’t forget what you’ve done today.”
Michael Harcourt gave a slight bow. There was no trace of his smile left. “Whatever I can, Julia, you know that. Always.”
“Goodbye, Minister.” She made it come out like a pronouncement. Rewarded by his flash of alarm just before his picture vanished.
She should never have allowed this situation to arise; it was her own fault; if she’d kept on top of the political scene, been decisive about Wales, the prospect of a leadership contest would never have arisen, allowing openings for people like Michael Harcourt. In fact she should never have let a Globecast puppet become Minister for Industry in the first place. Attention to detail; once she’d applied the maxim ruthlessly. But there had been so many distractions lately, worry building like a spring stormfront. Funny the NN cores hadn’t caught on to Harcourt before. Could they be afflicted by Royan’s absence? They reflected her thoughts after all, amplifying them a thousandfold. Did that mean the loss they felt was a thousand times the intensity of hers?
Arrange a conference with David Marchant, she said. I know we’ve left it late for damage limitation, but let’s see what he can do. We can’t have Harcourt as PM.
Who left it late? her grandfather queried drily.
Ignore him. We’ll get on to it, NN core two said. Victor called while you were talking to Michael Harcourt. He’s found the spaceplane and the payload facility room which handled Kiley. I’m accessing their memory cores now.
Fine. The patio’s fuchsia flowers were bobbing in the light breeze, utterly beautiful, something God’s own origami artist had folded together. Several bees had found them, crawling inside their ruff of petals. Julia watched them while she waited for the results of the memory core search, remembering other flowers on the bluff behind the bungalow. They were artificial, too, not gene-tailored, but placed there, organized. All of her environments were organized, Prior’s Fen Atoll, Wilholm, the Mahone Bay island, resorts. She spent her time in bubbles of perfection.
A brief flash of alien flowers blossoming in Wilholm’s borders. She almost had it, the impression was vivid, crystalline.
Then the idea was gone.
We’ve found him, NN core two said.
This time the burst of emotion was absent as Royan materialized in her mind. Adoration would have been too painful.
Hello, Snowy. I suppose It must be getting bad. Tracking down this package means I screwed up, right?
I don’t know. I’m looking for an alien starship.
His image appeared thoughtful. Do you think I can help you?
You warned me about it.
Sorry, I don’t have any memory of that. It must be in my future.
When were you recorded?
June.
What have you been doing since the probe returned?