“You risk your life to protect Krossington’s privacy?”
“No. I stand on the basic principle of client confidentiality.”
Farkas rolled his eyes and hacked out a dry laugh. Wagging his finger at Donald, he billowed out smoke as he said:
“You are a man of principle—and that is an admirable thing to be—but you are also a man without friends. That’s not good at any time, but at a time like this, it’s downright fatal.”
“Friends have never got my anywhere, Farkas, not least because I don’t have any. My achievements rest on out-smarting the opposition—the Republic will have to do the same thing. Martial force isn’t much use when you’re surrounded by enemies bigger than you are, whereas a skilled mediator could achieve more than armies.”
This reasoning had a pronounced negative effect on the president. He tucked down his chin and scowled at Donald, then spun his chair to his desk and was pulling the cap off a pen when Sarah-Kelly spoke.
“He’s my friend; where he goes, so go I.”
“I’ll speak up for him too,” Valentin said. “He’s a brave man. If Banner had listened to him at Bloomsbury it would have saved scores of lives, Donald offered his own house as asylum for the wounded—and he fought back one against many. We would never have got out of Bloomsbury but for that fightback of yours.”
Farkas gazed at them in amazement. He picked some tobacco off his lips, staring at Donald with a whole new respect.
“You had a gun at the Bloomsbury Massacre?”
“Quite legally. I have a permit to bear arms within the Central Enclave; under the circumstances I had ample justifications for using it.”
Farkas buckled forward laughing.
“Counsel to the bitter end—shooting by the rules! And did you kill anyone?”
Donald knew this was the moment on which his fate tipped to life or it tipped to death. There was no way of avoiding the fact.
“I shot an account-captain first class. He murdered a helpless man right before my eyes. I have absolutely no regrets.”
Now Farkas got to his feet and ordered the other three to stand up.
“We must stand in the presence of a true hero. You shot one of the most notorious glory criminals known to the Party, no less than Julius Shellingfield, eldest son of Augustus Shellingfield. You will be pleased to hear it took him several hours to die.”
Donald managed to pull a rather sick grin.
“That’s wonderful news—now the Shellingfields want me dead too.”
Farkas slapped a form on the desk in front of Donald.
“It’s time you joined the Party. We need people like you—highly educated in legal matters, familiar with the sovereign lands, above all a man of principle who is not afraid to use violence. That’s what makes you different from the bourgeois rabbits of the Central Enclave.”
“I’m not a true believer in Banner’s vision…” He did not know how to address Farkas. ‘President Farkas’ seemed pompous. “The vision that we all sleep on the Bed of Procrustes offering our dreams to the great god-state is flawed. It won’t work.”
Farkas waved that away, scattering ash off his cigarette.
“We’re pragmatists, not dogmatists. We’re building a better society, one with democracy, legal tender, a central bank, the rule of law without exceptions, good jobs for those who can work, hospitals and homes for those who cannot. Only the Republic of the New Nation is sovereign now.”
Donald leaned forward and completed the form. He had to ask for his passport back from Kalchelik to get its issue number. When he slid the completed form across the desk to Farkas, they all welcomed him in with applause.
“Remember your Party number. It’s 187345. You’ll need it to get your new citizen’s papers in the morning from the Banner Hall downstairs. Do you know that since Saturday evening the Party’s membership has increased by more than eighty thousand? Banner once told me that back in the seventies, it took him two years to get the first hundred members. At that time, it was virtually a capital offence to join a radical party. Now it’s a safety feature.”
“Maybe. You’ve… We’ve a hell of a long way to go,” Donald said. “The Republic is surrounded by sovereign lands well-garrisoned with glory troops. They’ve got Naclaski batteries—”
“No rubbishing!,” Farkas snapped. His eyes gleamed with anger again. “Express only the strengths of our new republic! The Naclaski batteries of the Grande Enceinte can hurl back far more than anything those sovereigns can throw at us. We’ve got the factories that make the ammunition and propellent. We can refurbish machinery. The ultras will help us with their magnificent armoured cars—each one has a Long 75 with a range of five miles. We’ve got the nerve centre of the barging industry at North Kensington basin. And…” He wagged his finger at Donald again. “And we’ve got something more powerful than all the guns and glory troopers put together; the promise of a better life for everyone. We’re going to win, Donald! Remember that and never hint otherwise.”
In other words, the only safe mouth is a shut mouth. Donald shut up.
“I’m going to bed,” Farkas said, yawning immensely. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“We’ll stay with a friend of mine,” Sarah-Kelly said.
“I was just going to lock the building, Mr President” An officer of the National Army was leaning in the doorway. “But I can leave it a bit if you need time.”
“No chance, I’m grabbing some kip.” To Donald, Farkas said, “Join me at 7 am tomorrow for morning briefing, we’ll discuss your future and I’ll get a bodyguard organised for you. We’re not going to let sovreignite vandals massacre the Party again.”
Donald found the room spinning when he stood up, probably due to fatigue and cigarette smoke. It was like being the last to leave a party as they descended through the quiet building under the eyes of an abundant night guard—truly, the Party was taking no chances. Kalchelik excused himself and made a hasty foray, rejoining them as the officer in
