The Jennifer Morgue - Charles Stross [96]
No she bloody isn’t! I try to yell at him, but he’s playing the usual tricks with my vocal chords and I’m not allowed to say anything that isn’t on the menu. Propelled by the usual inexorable dream logic, the briefing continues.
“Billington has let it be known that he will be conducting an advance Dutch auction for the specimens he expects to raise from JENNIFER MORGUE Site Two. These are described in vague but exciting terms, as chthonic artifacts and applications. There is of course no mention of his expertise in operating Gravedust-type oneiromantic convolution engines, or of the presence of a deceased DEEP SEVEN in the vicinity.
“He is restricting bidding to authorized representatives of governments with seats at the G8, plus Brazil, China, and India. Sealed bids are solicited in advance of the operation, which will be honored once the retrieval is complete. This indirect pressure makes it difficult for us to stay out of the auction, while simultaneously rendering it nearly impossible for us to take direct action against him—he’s very carefully played the bidders off against one another. Of rather more concern is who Billington hasn’t invited to bid—namely BLUE HADES. As I mentioned in your earlier briefing, our immediate concern is the response of BLUE HADES to Billington’s activities around the site, followed in turn by what Billington really intends to do with the raised artifacts.
“Regardless, your actual task remains, as briefed, to determine what Billington is planning and to stop him from doing anything that arouses BLUE HADES or DEEP SEVEN—especially, anything likely to convince them that we’re in violation of our treaty obligations. To supplement your cover you are officially designated as an authorized representative of Her Majesty’s Government, to deliver our bid for the JENNIFER MORGUE Site Two artifacts. This is a genuine bid, although obviously we hope we won’t be called upon to make good on it, and the terms are as follows: for an exclusive usage license as designated in schedule one to be appended to this document, hereinafter designated ‘the contract’ between the seller ‘Ellis Billington’ and associates, corporations, and other affiliates and the purchaser, the Government of the United Kingdom, the sum of two billion pounds sterling, to be paid . . .”
Angleton rattles on in dreary legalese for approximately three lifetimes. It’d be tedious at the best of times, but right now it’s positively nightmarish; the plan has already run off the rails, and the worst thing of all is, I can’t even yell at him. I’m committing this goddamn contract that we’re never going to use to memory, seemingly at Angleton’s posthypnotic command, but the shit has hit the fan and Ramona’s a prisoner. I’d gnash my teeth if I was allowed to. I’ve got a feeling that Angleton’s sneak strategy—use me to leak disinformation to the Black Chamber via Ramona, of course—is already blown, because I don’t think Billington is serious about running an auction. If he was, would he be dicking around risking a murder investigation in order to push a line of cosmetics? And would he be kidnapping negotiators? This is all so out of whack that I can’t figure it out. I’ve got a sick feeling that Angleton’s scheme was toast before I even boarded the airbus in Paris: if nothing else, his bid is implausibly low given what’s at stake.
Eventually the briefing lets go of me and I slide gratefully beneath the surface of a dreamless lake. I’m rocking from side to side on it, with the leisurely wobble of a howdah perched on an elephant’s back. After a brief infinity of unconsciousness I become aware that my head is throbbing fiercely and my mouth feels like a family of rodents has set up a campsite, complete with latrine, on my tongue. And that I’m awake. Oh no. I twitch, taking stock. I’m lying on my back which is never the right place to be, breathing through my mouth, and—
“He’s awake.”
“Good. Howard, stop fooling around.