Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [48]
Eighteenth‐century ethics for you. Her employer prided himself on being ahead of his time, of being a man of the future. But his future was children down mines and up chimneys, it was only a third of women dying in childbirth, it was hunting animals to extinction to make billiard balls and exotic rugs, only to discover that man himself was just a jumped‐up monkey.
Sabbath’s cabin boy was one of the lucky ones. Found in the street, he’d been given clothes and a bed, he’d been taught to read and write. When it had come to Sabbath’s attention that he’d proved adept at that, he’d become a Boy First Class, his training had become intense, if specialised – mathematics, chronology, astrology‐astronomy, high‐energy physick.
Operational training with Jaxa was just part of his studies. This boy would be one of the Admirals of the Fleet, when he was a man. And when there was a Fleet.
‘Stand up,’ she ordered. He struggled to.
‘There are locals after the Doctor and his companion,’ Roja said. ‘They have aircraft.’
‘Then we will kill them.’
* * *
Baskerville smiled at Anji.
‘Will you start, or should I?’ he asked reasonably, using the cultured English accent, not the East European one he’d used when he didn’t know she was listening in.
‘You’re not from the future?’ He couldn’t be, or the detector would be bleeping.
‘No.’
‘So where did you get your time machine?’
Baskerville shook his head. ‘I have to keep some of my secrets. Now, my turn: How much do the CIA know?’
‘Nothing.’
Baskerville looked her up and down, as if appreciating her for the first time. Anji kept her arms by her sides – if he wanted a good look, he might as well have it.
‘Nothing?’ he asked.
‘I’m not CIA.’
That clearly surprised him. ‘You are working for the EZSS, after all?’
‘I’m not even sure what that is.’
‘The Eurozone Secret Service,’ he said, sounding a little pained.
‘Oh right. No. I’m Anji Kapoor. I’m a trader at MWF, a London bank.’
Baskerville wasn’t sure what to make of that. ‘Ethical fund management?’
Anji sighed. ‘Not always.’
‘Why not?’ he was testing her.
‘Because, ultimately, we’re there to make money for our customers and shareholders. And there are very few stocks as reliable as tobacco and defence contractors.'
‘Defence contractors?’
‘Arms manufacturers, then.’
‘The people that make cluster bombs, strike aircraft and guided missiles. Defensive systems like those?’
‘Yes. I don’t create the demand by trading shares.’
‘But you are a vital part of the process. Without the shareholders, how would they expand? Without people like you, how would they ever develop new… defensive… systems?’
‘Is this third form debate going anywhere?’ she asked, irritated. ‘Without a military, the West would have been invaded by Russian tanks, or bombed to oblivion. Offensive weapons act as a deterrent.’
‘Indeed.’ Baskerville was smiling at her. ‘Before we go any further… have you heard of Chechnya?’
‘Yes. Part of the former Soviet Union. The Russians invaded.’
‘The Russian tanks invaded, and eventually it was bombed to oblivion. I was there when the first nuclear device was detonated. Half a million children and old women turned to ash in an instant.’
Anji put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘Don’t be sorry, my dear. I was a General in the Russian Army at the time. It was me that pressed the button. And for the last ten years, since I left military service, I’ve been what you might call a freelance defence contractor.’
‘An arms dealer?’
‘Do you know what this planet’s main industries are? Forget agriculture, forget the automobile. The four biggest industries on this planet are arms dealing, illegal narcotics, illegal arms dealing, and the oil trade. Narcotics and the oil trade have been in steady decline for decades. Arms manufacturing is, as you say, as blue chip a stock as you could hope for.’
‘The market for time machines is even better?’
Baskerville shrugged. ‘Not exactly. It’s more a