Three Kings. Группа авторов

hadn’t been willing to play him in years, though – I got tired of losing, Alan.

      Now wasn’t the time to think of that. ‘Chess will never be pointless, Singh. You can learn much of a man’s character from the way he plays.’

      ‘Or a woman’s?’ One of the MI5 people, a middle-aged woman he didn’t recognize.

      Alan turned to her. ‘Or a woman’s, of course.’

      She offered a hand. ‘Sarah Edwards. I’ll be heading things up today.’

      Turing shook her hand: a good grip, warm and forthright.

      She continued, ‘Do you know everyone else here? Let me introduce you—’

      He knew the Silver Helix members, of course – Singh had pulled in the new young Redcoat, it probably was time for the boy to get some seasoning, and Stonemaiden, so it wasn’t an entirely male contingent. Edwards added a quick flurry of additional names – representatives from Scotland Yard’s RaSP division, along with a few others from MI5. Some of them he’d met before, but Alan didn’t know any of them well.

      He missed Charlie Soper – after that business with Churchill so many decades ago, he and Charlie had had occasion to work together, more and more over the years. A reliable man, the sort you could count on. A good man in a storm. It was a shame there were so few of those to be found. Soper was retired now, enjoying a well-earned peace at last. A peace that Alan was determined to protect.

      The Lion sat down in a broad chair that must have been specially made to handle his bulk, and the others moved to take their seats. Singh slammed a fist down on the sturdy mahogany table. ‘Enough dilly-dallying, children. We must sort out where we stand, make this transition as soon as possible. When power changes hands, there is a moment, a gap, when no one is really in control. That’s the danger – there are always dark figures waiting, lurking on the edges. They’ll be the ones rushing in to fill the gap, and it’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.’

      Sarah Edwards frowned at Singh; she was supposed to be in charge of this meeting. ‘Yes, let’s get started.’ Edwards leaned forward. ‘Did you hear that Double Helix is back? Will he be trouble?’

      Alan felt the stab of regret that always flashed through him when he thought of Noel – could he and Flint have done anything different? Trained the boy better, raised a better man? Or had Noel always been walking his dark path? ‘He says he’s retired—’

      ‘You can’t trust the bastard,’ Edwards said. ‘But I’m more worried about the Fists – they’re roiling right now.’

      ‘Can you blame them?’ Redcoat asked. ‘After what Henry said—’

      The Lion frowned. ‘Hush! He’ll be joining us any minute.’

      ‘But, Singh …’ Alan began, but the Lion cut him off.

      ‘Henry is king, Turing. What would you have us do?’

      Alan just shook his head. He could hardly ask them all to swear fealty to Richard instead. They’d think Alan’s hundred-and-eight-year-old brain had finally, suddenly, given out completely.

      ‘Threat analysis, Mr Turing,’ Edwards said. ‘That’s what we need from you – please put that brain of yours to work and help us sort through this mess. I want to know every likely attack on the throne – and I want to know which ones we’ll have to deal with first.’

      Threat analysis was worth doing for Richard too, of course. And while he was at it, maybe Alan would spend a little time chasing down Margaret’s lost heir. It was hard to imagine that some lost joker child could become a serious threat at this late stage, but it was never wise to overlook a piece on the board. If you did, the next thing you knew, a pawn would make it to the far end and queen herself, or your king would end up pinned by some sneaky knight.

      ‘I’ll do my best, ma’am,’ Alan said, as the door opened and Henry entered the room. They all rose hastily to their feet, chairs scraping back loudly.

      Henry smiled benevolently. ‘Then we shall rest easy, Alan, because your best is very good indeed.’

      It was dangerous to say no to a king. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. I’d best get to work right away,’ Alan said. ‘Calculating a problem this complex will take some time.’

      Stalling was his best tactic now.

      Green Man stood for a few moments, letting his gaze sweep over the assembly. The last of the murmurings stopped. He had their attention now, the nervous energy of the room directed solely in his direction. He made them wait a moment more than was comfortable, then began to speak.

      ‘Thank you for coming. There aren’t many of us around now that remember a time before Margaret was queen. But, let me assure you, there was. I cannot deny that there will be change, and some of the change is regrettable—’

      ‘Regrettable!’ Seizer snorted. ‘Henry just told us to bugger off to the bally moon!’

      Green Man’s wooden eyes narrowed behind the mask. He hated being interrupted. It ruined the flow of his speech. Seizer had always been difficult, but he was getting worse with age. ‘They are words, Seizer, nothing more. They can’t hurt us, and by next week the papers will have moved on to something else.’

      ‘They are the words of our king and he’s saying we’re no better than a pack of scrounging foreigners. Everyone who has ever hated us will take it as permission to act.’ He spread his hands. ‘And then, by God, we’ll have more than words to deal with.’

      A few of the other jokers nodded along, with one or two murmuring assent, while the others exchanged worried glances. Seizer might have no idea what he was talking about, but it was clear he’d tapped into the fears of the room.

      ‘People are free to speak,’ said Green Man. ‘Even if they use that freedom to show the worst parts of themselves. That doesn’t mean they’re free to act. If Britain First or some other group thinks they have leave to hurt us, they will find themselves sorely mistaken. Kings may come and go, but the Twisted Fists will endure.’

      Seizer tutted. ‘A fine sentiment, but it won’t protect us. We need to take action! Break a few heads to show them we mean business.’

      ‘If the Fists need to break heads, we will. Five for each of ours. But only if they leave us no other choice.’

      ‘Do nothing! Tha—’

      He could see Seizer wanted to say more, so he stepped forward, his foot making a loud crunching noise as one of Seizer’s discarded growths shattered beneath it.

      ‘No,’ he added quietly. ‘There are many steps between inaction and bloodshed. We know Henry is not the sort of man to be won over by reason, nor by violence. If we lash out at him now, it will only prove him right in the eyes of the media. No,’ Green Man said again, ‘Henry does not care about the morality of his position, but he does care about his reputation. A discreet threat should be enough to make him back off, perhaps even retract his earlier statements.’ Green Man lifted his chin and raised his voice ever so slightly. ‘Put out the word: I want everything we can get on our king-to-be. A man like Henry will have made mistakes and tried to bury them. Get out there. Dig them up. The dirtier the secret, the better.’

      The Twisted Fists were starting to move, much happier now that their nerves could be channelled. Even so, he could see Seizer considering whether to speak.

      ‘Dismissed,’ said Green Man, as much to him as to the room.

      The old knave deferred with a bow of his bent body, even as his eyes flashed displeasure.

      Wayfarer was right, he thought. My rivals have grown bold, and like Henry it’s going to take more than words to put them down.

      He