“But you’re not sure it was the traitors. Or even who they are.”
Albert shifted slightly. “Who else would they be?”
Grandma exhaled slowly to indicate this subject was concluded. “Let’s discuss the Son.”
Tomas glanced up, surprised.
“Of course I know,” Cheng snapped. “Since your first contact with the Paris Collector a year ago. It’s my job. As it was your job to keep it secret.”
Tomas tipped his head respectfully.
“And I still think it’s madness.”
“Don’t mince words, Albert.” Grandma scowled.
“Do I ever? He’s a charlatan. A bored pervert. I can show you photos. He’s no different than any of them.”
Grandma shook her head wearily. “Since he met the Son, let’s ask Tomas what he thinks.”
They waited for Tomas to form a suitable answer; there was none other than blunt honesty. “I don’t trust him, either, ma’am.”
“As you’ve said over and over.” Lenora pursed her lips. “It must start somewhere.”
“They don’t want real peace. This is a ruse to get us to lower our guard.”
“No. An opportunity to talk.”
“And you think his father and all the Allah scum will allow this?” Cheng persisted.
“I don’t know, Albert. I’m hoping that the only disloyalty I need worry about is from the Camels.”
Cheng flinched visibly. “You know I’ll support whatever you decide. We both will.” He took in Stilton. “But let’s first rebuild our defenses just in case.”
“With what?” Grandma’s eyes blazed. “To what end? To losing another thirteen million? No. The world is out there and we need to rejoin it. Someday we will be the world power again. But not blind and stupid like before. And not through dead soldiers. Our hearts and minds will prevail. Our wisdom. Our love.”
She was crazy, Albert decided sadly. Old and crazy. The HG sunrises, temperature manipulations, fake trees, happy children, peppy police. She bought all her own fantasies. He had tried. He could always remind himself of that. He had tried.
“What’re the next steps?” Cheng asked.
She nodded gratefully. “I will meet Abdullah.”
“We can probably hook up an HG to about a thousand kilometers,” Tomas said.
“Who said anything about HGs?”
Stilton smiled shakily. “How else, ma’am?”
“In person.” Grandma folded her hands in her lap as if deciding on reupholstering the purple couch.
Tomas and Cheng abandoned any pretense at politeness.
“That can’t be done,” Stilton said, alarmed.
“And we can’t possibly protect you,” Albert added quickly.
“Oh, I’m sure you can.”
“No.” Stilton angrily swung his head back and forth. “I insist we use holographic contact. This could be a trap.”
Grandma laughed. “Unlikely. If they hurt me, Albert would launch every nuke we have. Let’s reconvene tomorrow morning with some options. If you’ll both excuse me, I’ve got to go sit through two hours of badly done Mozart.”
Tomas and Cheng walked silently past the skipping and singing children of the vidmurals, stopping by the entrance to the underground conveyor where the First Cousin’s car was parked. Albert indicated Tomas should follow, and they went down the heavily guarded elevator and into the front seat of the tiny car.
Tomas stretched out his leg, nearly knocking a hole in the glove compartment.
“Sorry, I prefer a small car.” Albert seemed genuinely apologetic, turning on the rad. Mooshie’s Dark Depths haunted the soft leather interior.
“Quiet and deep
My heart is gonna creep
Into your dark depths
Take me with you
But be prepared
I’m blacker than coal
And I ain’t got no soul.”
Cheng frowned. “Familiar, right?”
“From the 60s, I think.”
“Originally by Mooshie Lopez.” Albert listened a moment longer, his face softening in a pleasant memory. “What are we going to do, Major Stilton?”
Tomas has readied himself for this and decided to say very little. “Do as she says.”
“Of course we will. But how do we do as she says without incurring risks?”
“I don’t see how that’s avoided.”
Cheng leaned against the driver’s door to give the Major a little more leg room. “The Collector’s report says Abdullah has support. Your thoughts?”
“As I told Grandma, I largely dismiss that intelligence. They’ve been embedded so long and the Allahs have given them so much leeway, it’s hard to believe anything they say.”
“You think the Collectors have turned?”
Tomas shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to think at the moment. “They insist Abdullah has the support of at least four major army groups in Europe and North Africa. All cousins.” He smiled faintly. “How real those armies are, I don’t know.”
“How real are any of them?” Cheng asked quietly.
“There are still a billion Camels with guns. That’s real enough.”
“Unless they’re fraying and feuding, as they usually do, and their strength is a mirage.”
Stilton stared through the faint light of the underground, tanks at either end flanked by motionless BTs. “Then Grandma’s right. They want and need peace.”
“Or they’re not prepared for war.”
Stilton considered whether to mention the Paris Collector’s similar thoughts. His mistrust of Cheng won. “I don’t have that intelligence.”
“I do, Tomas,” Cheng said. “Their tanks are rusty, their ships are listing, there’ve been mutinies and desertions across the Islamic Empire. The European Caliphates haven’t as much as pretended to conduct any military games in four years.”
There was similar so-called intelligence before the war. Allahs won’t fight. They’re cowards, perverts, blind fanatics. Yet they kicked our asses. Allahu Akbar.
“I’m sure Grandma’s taken that all into account,” Tomas said slowly.
“Are you certain she wants to?”
Stilton stared coldly. “She misses nothing.”
“Oh, I know.” Cheng laughed bitterly. “But she’s ninety-two, Tomas.”
“And healthy. She’ll live another ninety-two years.”
“We can only hope. But at that age, this age,” Cheng indicated his own wrinkled body, “you’re not so sure. You think time will never run out. She’s worried that she’s left the job half-finished, Tomas. That we rebuilt, brilliantly under her leadership, but it’s not quite enough. We’re still surrounded, still no trade, knowing all it takes is one Camel fanatic to assume power and attack us again. As you said, a billion of them. So it’s understandable she’d want a real peace. A world where those fears are gone. But after meeting Abdullah, do you really think he can be trusted?”
“What are you suggesting, First Cousin?” Tomas snapped, feeling queasy.
“That we must
