The colleague looked over at Adrian, looked down at his music, and did not reply.
Nobody requested an absence from the meeting in the Cavern. At the appointed time Adrian took his seat and glanced over the turnout with satisfaction.
“I won’t keep you long today, my friends,” he announced. “It being the Sabbath, I know you’ll want to be home with your families.”
Nobody looked interested in leaving, however. He continued more solemnly, “As you know, we’ve lost a good comrade and valued contributor to our City in the death of Geoffrey Famham.”
Sympathetic murmurs followed this statement.
“But our duty requires that we do not stop for mourning, but at once designate someone to pick up the burden he carried all these years. The post of Chief Minister of Security is empty. I’ve given a great deal of thought to the matter, and I want to thank those of you who gave me your assistance.”
Harry Muir was standing in the front row of the crowd. His father stood just behind him, his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
Adrian said, “I would now like to inform you I am giving the position of Security Chief to Special Officer Tal Diamond.”
A complete and disbelieving silence ensued. Tal, who had been asked to be present as part of his usual routine, took a step forward, looking as shocked as everybody else.
“Officer Diamond has performed his duty admirably by our City, and for me personally. I know you will give him your support in his new tasks.”
Lord Muir’s hands had fallen from Harry’s shoulders. A dissatisfied rumbling began among those present.
Adrian smiled. “Please feel free to adjourn and return to your homes. Thank you for your kind attention.”
He rose and headed speedily for the door. He estimated that about half those present would try to interrupt him when they’d pulled themselves together. As it was, Brandon Fischer and Tal were both on his trail.
“We have to talk,” puffed Fischer, as he jogged to catch Adrian.
But Tal reached him first. “Have you lost your mind?” he said.
Adrian smiled. “Promotion hasn’t made you forget your graciousness.” He looked back and saw stirrings of life in the crowd. “Not here, Tal, I’ll never get out. —Brandon, I know, but not here.”
“Where?” They both said.
“I’ll call you.” He ducked out the door.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do!” called Fischer irritably.
Tal first, he decided. He gave his demon a few hours to consider the situation, then summoned him to one of the administration offices, the one he used least often. It was less likely they’d be looking for him there.
“The thing is already announced,” Adrian began. “So let’s take if from there.”
Tal held his chair with the immobility of a statue. Finally the marble lips moved. “Adrian. First, nobody wants me to hold a ministry; second, I don’t want to hold a ministry; third, I’d like to think I can leave the City at any stop we make.”
“And so you can. If you do, I’ll just give it over to Harry Muir.”
There was a suspicious silence from Tal. Then he said, “This appointment covers only Special Security, doesn’t it? Not the Guard, not the EPs.”
“Yes. You’ve grasped the situation admirably.”
“Well, there you are. I don’t know anything about Special Security.”
Adrian grinned. “In case you asked, I had my link call up some books for you—they’re printed and in your office. The Internal Security Manual, A History of Security Crises in the Three Cities, an organizational chart … there are bundles of stuff for you.”
Tal got up from his chair in what for him was almost a burst of impatience. He walked as far as the wall, turned, and said, “Just what is it you want from me in this, Adrian? Just what plan am I supposed to follow?” Adrian leaned back and folded his hands. “Your inclinations.”
Tal took that in. He returned to his seat and smiled. “Well. I will, then.”
“Good.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
Tal thought some more. “What if somebody gives me trouble over anything I want to do?”
“If it’s legal, hit them with your title, and refer them to me if they get uppity.”
Text of a memo from Tal Diamond to the Lord Armorer.
To: Benjamin Lawless, Lord Armorer
From: Tal Diamond, Chief of Security
Re: The Closing of the Weapons Rental on Transport Deck
Date: August 10
This is to inform you that the weapons rental office on the Transport deck, presently run by your department, will be closed tomorrow, August 11. This closure will be permanent.
The closure is in compliance with Regulation 36, Para 12 of Internal Security, which states that the distribution of hand weapons to civilians is at the discretion of the department of Special Security.
I realize that the above conflicts with your understanding of the situation. Nevertheless I believe it to be true.
Upon finishing the dictation, the secretary program on Tal’s link inquired, “Do you wish me to rephrase this memo so it is consonant with the general style of memos between department heads? Some softening of tone will be necessary.”
“Touch it,” said Tal, “and your personality will be dismantled by morning.”
“Yes, sir,” said the secretary program. “Sending now.”
It took Hartley Quince forever to get live communications access to die Station medical complex. He brought one of Willie’s Sangaree henchmen, one Barington Strife, to his office in case he proved useful in getting Will’s attention; but as things stood the hard part was getting through to Willie at all. He was bounced to thirteen separate administrators, some of them refugee handlers, some medical supervisors, and some just there to slow the advance of progress.
Finally he reached a hospital administrator who listened long enough to accept a money transfer, and a few minutes later he heard: “Hart, is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“Get me out of here!”
“Willie, I am working on it. They tell me you’re dehydrated, underfed, and
