we don't go round putting people under high-res surveillance just because we are curious about their, er,
The steak sandwiches arrived at the beginning of this bit of exposition. Hackworth began messing about with condiments, as if he could belittle the importance of this conversation by paying equal attention to having just the right goodies on his sandwich. He fussed with his pickle for a while, then began examining the bottles of obscure sauces arrayed in the center of the table, like a sommelier appraising a wine cellar.
'I had been mugged in the Leased Territories,' Hackworth said absently, 'and Lieutenant Chang recovered my hat, somewhat later, from a ruffian.' He had fixed his gaze, for no special reason, on a tall bottle with a paper label printed in an ancient crabbed typeface.
'MCWHORTER'S ORIGINAL CONDIMENT' was written large, and everything else was too small to read. The neck of the bottle was also festooned with black-and-white reproductions of ancient medals awarded by pre- Enlightenment European monarchs at exhibitions in places like Riga. Just a bit of violent shaking and thwacking ejected a few spurts of the ochre slurry from the pore-size orifice at the top of the bottle, which was guarded by a quarter-inch encrustation. Most of it hit his plate, and some impacted on his sandwich.
'Yes,' Major Napier said, reaching into his breast pocket and taking out a folded sheet of smart foolscap. He told it to uncrease itself on the table and prodded it with the nib of a silver fountain pen the size of an artillery shell. 'Gatehouse records indicate that you do not venture into the L.T. often, Mr. Hackworth, which is certainly understandable and speaks well of your judgment. There have been two forays in recent months. On the first of these, you left in midafternoon and returned late at night bleeding from lacerations that seemed to have been recently incurred, according to the'– Major Napier could not repress a tiny smile-'evocative description logged by the border patrol officer on duty that night. On the second occasion, you again left in the afternoon and returned late, this time with a single deep laceration across the buttocks-not visible, of course, but picked up by surveillance.'
Hackworth took a bite of his sandwich, correctly anticipating that the meat would be gristly and that he would have plenty of time to think about his situation while his molars subdued it. He did have plenty of time, as it turned out; but as frequently happened to him in these situations, he could not bring his mind to bear on the subject at hand. All he could think about was the taste of the sauce. If the manifest of ingredients on the bottle had been legible, it would have read something like this: Water, blackstrap molasses, imported habanero peppers, salt, garlic, ginger, tomato puree, axle grease, real hickory smoke, snuff, butts of clove cigarettes, Guinness Stout fermentation dregs, uranium mill tailings, muffler cores, monosodium glutamate, nitrates, nitrites, nitrotes and nitrutes, nutrites, natrotes, powdered pork nose hairs, dynamite, activated charcoal, match-heads, used pipe cleaners, tar, nicotine, singlemalt whiskey, smoked beef lymph nodes, autumn leaves, red fuming nitric acid, bituminous coal, fallout, printer's ink, laundry starch, drain deaner, blue chrysotile asbestos, carrageenan, BHA, BHT, and natural flavorings.
He could not help smiling at his own complete haplessness, both now and on the night in question. 'I will concede that my recent trips to the Leased Territories have not left me disposed to make any more.' This comment produced just the right sort of clubby, knowing smiles from his interlocutors. Hackworth continued, 'I saw no reason to report the mugging to Atlantan authorities-'
'There was no reason,' Major Napier said. 'Shanghai Police might have been interested, though.'
'Ah. Well, I did not report it to them either, simply because of their reputation.'
This bit of routine wog-bashing would have elicited naughty laughter from most. Hackworth was struck by the fact that neither Finkle-McGraw nor Napier rose to the bait.
'And yet,' Napier said, 'Lieutenant Chang belied that reputation, did he not, when he went to the trouble of bringing your hat-now worthless-to you in person, when he was off-duty, rather than simply mailing it or for that matter throwing it away.'
'Yes,' Hackworth said, 'I suppose he did.'
'We found it rather singular. While we would not dream of enquiring into the particulars of your conversation with Lieutenant Chang, or of prying into your affairs in any other way, it did occur to some suspicious minds here- ones that have perhaps been exposed to the Oriental milieu for too long-that Lieutenant Chang's intentions might not be entirely honourable, and that he might bear watching. At the same time, for your own protection, we decided to keep a motherly eye on you during any later sojourns beyond the dog pod grid.' Napier did some more scrawling on his paper. Hackworth watched his pale blue eyes jumping back and forth as various records materialized on its surface.
'You took one more trip to the Leased Territories-actually, across the Causeway, across Pudong, into the old city of Shanghai,' Napier said, 'where our surveillance machinery either malfunctioned or was destroyed by countermeasures. You returned several hours later with a chunk taken out of your arse.' Napier suddenly slapped the paper down on his desk, looked up at Hackworth for the first time in quite a while, blinking his eyes a couple of times as he refocused, and relaxed against the sadistically designed wooden back of his chair. 'Hardly the first time that one of H.M. subjects has gone for a nocturnal prowl on the wild side and come back having suffered a beating-but normally the beatings are much less severe, and normally they are bought and paid for by the victim. My assessment of you, Mr. Hackworth, is that you are not interested in that particular vice.'
'Your assessment is correct, sir,' Hackworth said, a bit hotly. This self-vindication left him in the position of having to provide some better explanation of the puckered cicatrice running across his buttocks. Actually, he didn't have to explain anything-this was an informal luncheon, not a police interrogation-but it would not do much for his already tatterdemalion credibility if he let it pass without comment. As if to emphasize this fact, both of the other men were now silent for some time.
'Do you have any more recent intelligence about the man named Chang?' Hackworth asked.
'It is singular that you should ask. As it happens, the whilom Lieutenant; his colleague, a woman named Pao; and their superior, a magistrate named Fang, all resigned on the same day, about a month ago. They have resurfaced in the Middle Kingdom.'
'You must have been struck by the coincidence-that a judge who is in the habit of caning people enters the service of the Middle Kingdom, and shortly thereafter, a New Atlantan engineer returns from a visit to said clave bearing marks of having been caned.'
'Now that you mention it, it is quite striking,' Major Napier said.
The Equity Lord said, 'It might lead one to conclude that the engineer in question owed some debt to a powerful figure within that clave, and that the judicial system was being used as a sort of collection agency.'
Napier was ready for his leg of the relay. 'Such an engineer, if one existed, might be surprised to know that John Zaibatsu is intensely curious about the Shanghainese gentleman in question– an honest-to-god Mandarin of the Celestial Kingdom, if he is who we think he is-and that we have been trying for some time, with little success, to obtain more information about his activities. So, if the Shanghainese gentleman were to request that our engineer partake in activities that we would normally consider unethical or even treasonous, we might take an uncharacteristically forgiving stance. Provided, that is, that the engineer kept us well-informed.'
'I see. Would that be something like being a double agent, then?' Hackworth said.
Napier winced, as if he were being caned himself. 'It is a crashingly unsubtle phrase. But I can forgive your using it in this context.'
'Would John Zaibatsu then make some kind of formal commitment to this arrangement?'
'It is not done that way,' Major Napier said.
'I was afraid of that,' Hackworth said.
'Typically such commitments are superfluous, as in most cases the party has very little choice in the matter.'
'Yes,' Hackworth said, 'I see what you mean.'
'The commitment is a moral one, a question of honour,' Finkle-McGraw said. 'That such an engineer falls into trouble is evidence of mere hypocrisy on his part. We are inclined to overlook this sort of routine caducity. If he goes on to behave treasonously, then that of course is a different matter; but if he plays his role well and provides information of value to Her Majesty's Joint Forces, then he has rather deftly parlayed a small error into a grand act
