‘It’s not a game. You have some knowledge of the Holmland military mind. You should be able to put yourself in the shoes of the Supreme Army Command.’
‘That is not so difficult. More difficult, of course, is to predict what Dr Tremaine will do.’
‘Imagining yourself a Holmland general will be enough for now.’
‘There is not much to guess at, then. I would transport many, many troops to Stalsfrieden. A division or two. Or three.’
‘Forty, fifty thousand men? Why Stalsfrieden?’
‘It has good rail connections to Fisherberg. From Stalsfrieden, they can march to the Divodorum battlelines – or march to the Low Countries.’
‘Would it make good sense?’
‘Good sense is a slippery concept in war time, Fitzwilliam. I’m sure a build-up like that would appeal to many of the generals, which is probably reason enough to do it. We have been fighting for a short time, really, and many of them are impatient for what they see as glory. Commanding a force that made such a bold move would be very good for a career.’
Another thought crept up on Aubrey and elbowed him uncomfortably. ‘What if these new divisions simply aimed to capture Divodorum?’
‘That would be even bolder, and therefore more praiseworthy. Any general who championed such a strategy could become a hero.’
‘It’s not just Divodorum that I’m thinking of. It’s what lies on the other side of Divodorum.’
‘Ah. A direct route via river, rail and road to Lutetia.’
‘The Gallian capital would be laid bare.’
‘So which is it? Opening a wide front across the north of Gallia? Or a lightning strike toward Lutetia?’
Both would require much bloody fighting. Either would do for Dr Tremaine’s purposes. ‘I’m starting to think that Dr Tremaine, as usual, has more than one iron in the fire.’ Aubrey swept his gaze around the basement. ‘I’ve seen enough.’
‘I think I saw enough a long time ago,’ the Holmlander said.
Once outside, Aubrey took a deep breath and spoke the syllables that lowered them to the ground. The smell of ash and smoke was clean compared to the air in the crypt below.
Helmets, cables, restraints and blood. Nothing good happened down there. He still didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew it was important. Dr Tremaine wouldn’t have spent a month here if something important hadn’t been going on.
‘What time is it?’ The clouds were breaking up to show that the stars were still there, bright and constant. He wondered if the soldiers at the front could see them.
‘Just after four. We have an hour until dawn.’
Aubrey yawned. ‘Enough time to investigate the house.’
Von Stralick went to reply, but stopped and put a hand to his ear.
Startled by von Stralick’s concern, Aubrey turned in the direction the spy was facing.
A motor, approaching but still distant. As Aubrey strained to make it out, he heard the crunching of gears that announced the beginning of the mountainside ascent. It suggested a lorry rather than a motorcar.
‘The guards are coming back?’
‘With reinforcements, most likely.’
‘I had hoped we’d have more time,’ Aubrey said. ‘We haven’t learned much, not really.’
‘Quickly then.’ Von Stralick picked up the rake he’d dropped. ‘Take the lantern.’
They ran through the gardens to the house, approaching from the west. Von Stralick didn’t slow down as they sprinted up the broad stairs from the gardens and across the terrace. He used the rake as a jousting lance and crashed through the glass doors. ‘No time for finesse!’ he cried.
Together, they lurched through the debris into a sunroom that was lavishly laid out with wicker furniture and a grove or two of potted palms. Gingerly, von Stralick brushed splinters of glass from his jacket.
Aubrey remembered the Directorate training facility, another handsome estate that had been taken over by military. Some things would, of necessity, be the same. ‘Somewhere on the ground floor should be an operations room. Near the front door?’
They found it off the entrance hall. Once, it had probably been the grand dining room, but instead of a long table and heraldic banners it was fully stocked with desks, each with typewriter and telephone, plus extensive pigeon holes on the walls for routing of documents.
While von Stralick hurried among the desks, glancing at documents that looked promising, Aubrey cast about in a circle, feeling for any trace of magic but being frustrated when all he could detect were mild touches in too many different places. Nothing outrageous, nothing promising at all.
To judge from the dowel hanging on the walls, and the traces of paper caught in them, maps had been torn down and disposed of. Smouldering remains in the huge fireplace showed that files and documents had also been eliminated. He stirred the ashes with a poker, hoping to find something that had only been half-burned, but whoever had had that job had been extremely thorough. The ashes were uniformly black and useless.
With a grunt, von Stralick used both hands to pick up a head-sized lump of stone from the mantelpiece. He rolled it over in his hands. ‘Remarkable.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Aubrey stared at the banded stone, dark green and blue, glittering in the lantern light.
‘This is Green Johannes stone.’
‘I’m pleased about that, but don’t we have more important things to worry about?’
‘I’m surprised to see it here. When I’m surprised, I become curious – and since I’ve seen how you respond to your curiosity I’ve decided to listen to mine.’
‘Tell me then, Hugo – what’s surprising about Green Johannes?’
‘Johannes stone is only found in one tiny mine near Korsur, just on the Holmland side of the Gallian border. It comes in a number of varieties and Green Johannes is very, very rare.’
Aubrey looked up from the undeniably attractive striped stone. Something buried in his memory was struggling to make itself known, trying to rise above the snippets of information, the sawn-off ends of ideas and the half-formed conclusions that swirled about in the deepest recesses of his mind.
‘Valuable, is it?’
‘Greatly. It’s worth a thousand times more than Brown Johannes, a hundred times more than Blue Johannes -’
‘I see the pattern, Hugo. It’s the most valuable Johannes stone there is.’
‘Apart from Crystal Johannes, but the last of that was mined a hundred years ago.’ Von Stralick hefted the shapeless stone. ‘This is freshly extracted. See? It hasn’t been worked or polished.’
‘Which is all well and good, Hugo, but what’s your point?’
‘I’m not sure. Again, like you, where Dr Tremaine is concerned I take note of anything out of the ordinary.’ Von Stralick carefully replaced the Green Johannes on the mantelpiece.
Aubrey’s memory wasn’t being cooperative. He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t have known that lump of stone was out of the ordinary.’
‘That is where you’re fortunate to be associated with a Green Johannes collector.’
‘To tell you the truth, Hugo, I have trouble thinking of you as a collector.’
‘Fitzwilliam, you still have much to learn about the spying business. When I was a cultural attache to various Holmland embassies, being a collector gave me good reason to be out and about, poking my nose into various emporia. I became quite an expert in Green Johannes ware, to my surprise.’
‘Where’s your collection now?’
‘Probably in the home of one of the Chancellor’s good friends.’ He glanced at Aubrey. ‘I do not want you to think that my antipathy toward the Chancellor and his cronies is due to my collection’s being stolen. I’m much less straightforward than that.’
‘Hugo, I promise: I’ll never think you’re straightforward.’
Von Stralick looked wistfully at the lump of stone. ‘It’s a fine specimen.’
‘Don’t worry. Once we’ve sorted out all this mess, I’ll help you start your collection again. I think we have a pair of candlesticks made out of the stuff, up in the attic somewhere. I’m sure Mother and Father wouldn’t miss
