battle, getting supplies to the right place at the right time. You couldn’t fight a war if you couldn’t feed your soldiers. Similarly, you couldn’t run a business if you couldn’t get your products to the market. Imagine how easy those things would be if you controlled the shape of the land?
“What?” said Bill.
“I just realised,” I said, “just how powerful the people behind these changes are.” I looked at her, at her pretty face and slim body. “Do you really think we can fight this?”
She scowled. “Don’t be fooled by this dress,” she said. “I’m not a whore. At least, not yet.”
Not yet. I knew what that meant. Dream London has a way of working on your mind. Bill must have known about that. Had there been other Americans here before her? Undoubtedly. What had happened to them? I made a mental note to contact Second Eddie when I left here; perhaps we could track some of them down. Help them out, as it were. You can always charge more for the exotic.
“I know you’re not a whore,” I said, thoughtfully. “Listen. What do you want from me?”
“How much do you know about the changes?”
“I know they started in the Square Mile. After that, it’s all just rumour.”
“Then tell me the rumours,” she said, impatiently.
“What’s the point? Who can tell what the truth is when everything keeps changing? Tell me what you know.”
She stared at me. I said nothing.
“Okay,” she said, giving in. “Have you heard of a company called Davies-Innocent?”
“No.”
“They’re a multinational financial house. They have a presence mainly across Europe and the Far East. Virtually nothing in the States. They’re responsible for all this.”
That was a huge accusation. The Egg Market? The growing spires? The flower market and the railway stations?
“How could a financial house be responsible for all this?” I asked.
She handed me another picture, this one a series of views of London, taken over time. In each view, the streets and buildings were highlighted in different colours.
“The first was taken over a year ago, around the time the changes began. The Davies-Innocent building is the one in the middle. Take a closer look at it. What do you notice?”
I gazed at the picture. It showed a typical London street in the Square Mile as it used to be. A narrow road that dog-legged between tall buildings crowded higgledy-piggledy together. The sight of the white vans and cars crammed up on the pavement, pedestrians squeezing by them, brought a lump to my throat. The buildings themselves were a collection of styles, modern glass and steel, old fashioned red brick. The Davies-Innocent building was clad in yellow stone, a restrained façade of tall, arched windows.
“What am I supposed to see?” I asked.
“Look at the windows.”
Now I saw it. The windows in the middle of the building were taller than those at the sides. They were stretching themselves, beginning to grow. Now I knew what I was looking for, I noticed that the centre of the building seemed to bulge a little.
“Now look at this,” said Bill.
She passed me a satellite picture.
“The buildings outlined in red are all owned by Davies-Innocent. Look closely and you can see the changes.”
“That’s near Liverpool Street station,” I said. “Isn’t that Spitalfields Market?”
“Yes.”
She passed me the next picture. The Gherkin was highlighted in green.
“That building was one of the next to succumb. It was bought by Davies-Innocent just after the changes began. Around that time, Davies-Innocent acquired a large amount of capital from sources unknown. It used that capital to buy up London, piece by piece. As the contracts were signed, the changes accelerated.”
“Someone bought up the city? That’s what we heard, I suppose.” I shook my head. “Couldn’t someone have stopped them?”
“It took us a while to spot the pattern. By then it was too late.”
I remembered something then, old stories I
“What?” said Bill.
“I just realised,” I said, “just how powerful the people behind these changes are.” I looked at her, at her pretty face and slim body. “Do you really think we can fight this?”
She scowled. “Don’t be fooled by this dress,” she said. “I’m not a whore. At least, not yet.”
Not yet. I knew what that meant. Dream London has a way of working on your mind. Bill must have known about that. Had there been other Americans here before her? Undoubtedly. What had happened to them? I made a mental note to contact Second Eddie when I left here; perhaps we could track some of them down. Help them out, as it were. You can always charge more for the exotic.
“I know you’re not a whore,” I said, thoughtfully. “Listen. What do you want from me?”
“How much do you know about the changes?”
“I know they started in the Square Mile. After that, it’s all just rumour.”
“Then tell me the rumours,” she said, impatiently.
“What’s the point? Who can tell what the truth is when everything keeps changing? Tell me what you know.”
She stared at me. I said nothing.
“Okay,” she said, giving in. “Have you heard of a company called Davies-Innocent?”
“No.”
“They’re a multinational financial house. They have a presence mainly across Europe and the Far East. Virtually nothing in the States. They’re responsible for all this.”
That was a huge accusation. The Egg Market? The growing spires? The flower market and the railway stations?
“How could a financial house be responsible for all this?” I asked.
She handed me another picture, this one a series of views of London, taken over time. In each view, the streets and buildings were highlighted in different colours.
“The first was taken over a year ago, around the time the changes began. The Davies-Innocent building is the one in the middle. Take a closer look at it. What do you notice?”
I gazed at the picture. It showed a typical London street in the Square Mile as it used to be. A narrow road that dog-legged between tall buildings crowded higgledy-piggledy together. The sight of the white vans and cars crammed up on the pavement, pedestrians squeezing by them, brought a lump to my throat. The buildings themselves were a collection of styles, modern glass and steel, old fashioned red brick. The Davies-Innocent building was clad in yellow stone, a restrained façade of tall, arched windows.
“What am I supposed to see?” I asked.
“Look at the windows.”
Now I saw it. The windows in the middle of the building were taller than those at the sides. They were stretching themselves, beginning to grow. Now I knew what I was looking for, I noticed that the centre of the building seemed to bulge a little.
“Now look at this,” said Bill.
She passed me a satellite picture.
“The buildings outlined in red are all owned by Davies-Innocent. Look closely and you can see the changes.”
“That’s near Liverpool Street station,” I said. “Isn’t that Spitalfields Market?”
“Yes.”
She passed me the next picture. The Gherkin was highlighted in green.
“That building was one of the next to succumb. It was bought by Davies-Innocent just after the changes began. Around that time, Davies-Innocent acquired a large amount of capital from sources unknown. It used that capital to buy up London, piece by piece. As the contracts were signed, the changes accelerated.”
“Someone bought up the city? That’s what we heard, I suppose.” I shook my head. “Couldn’t someone have stopped them?”
“It took us a while to spot the pattern. By then it was too late.”
I remembered something then, old stories I
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