“Never heard of it.”
“Be patient,” I answered. “It wasn’t founded until 1890, but we managed to make a name for ourselves fairly quickly. Redvers . Do your friends call you ‘Red’?”
“Damn you, sir, they do not . Americans must prize a particularly thick sort of professor. Just what did you intend by taking on two armed assailants?”
“I intended not to go with them.”
“Damned foolish, if you ask me,” he said.
“Well, you guys have been so nice to me, I couldn’t bear to leave.”
“‘Better the enemy you know’ was more likely your motive,” Buller muttered.
There was more than a little truth to that.
“I think this ‘Old Man’ may be the only one who can get me back to my time,” I said. “I want to have a nice long talk with him about that, but not as his prisoner. So I’m going to need some help.”
Buller stood there for a moment and stared at me.
“Indeed,” he said finally. “And you expect us to provide that help?”
“Yup. You want him, and I appear to be the key to getting him, or at least bringing him out into the open. His henchman said as much. So you need me for bait, and I need you for muscle. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Buller snorted and looked to Thomson, who simply raised his eyebrows in reply.
“And I suppose I’m to trust you because you turned on your captors,” Buller said. “But you did not raise a finger until after Tyndall and Rossbank were dead. How do I know the entire episode wasn’t staged just to put you in our good graces?”
“You’re director of military intelligence. In my time I’d know what that means. Here, not so much. Is this just another assignment, or have you actually done this stuff before?”
“‘Done this stuff before?’ Listen to this fellow, Thomson. You actually believe he is a professor of anything ? He talks like a guttersnipe.”
“Well, he is American,” Thomson answered.
“Hummph. I was chief of intelligence in the Ashanti campaign and again in the Sudan in ‘82, so, yes, I have ‘done this stuff’ before. What of it?”
“You’d give a lot to have a source inside the highest level of your enemy’s counsels, right? Sure you would,” I said. “But once you had it, would you risk it just to get a second one?”
“What are you insinuating, Fargo?” Gordon demanded.
Buller turned on him.
“Found your voice, have you, Captain? He is insinuating nothing; he is stating the obvious. We already have a viper in our midst. How else could they have found out about both Fargo and the artifact? As I’d say you were the principal suspect, your outburst is hardly surprising.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Buller answered. “I must say, Gordon, for a serving officer that was a remarkably unconvincing display of marksmanship. You put pistol bullets all over the place, missed almost everything you aimed at, but your very first shot hit the henchman square in the back. Or should I say square in the body armor?”
The color drained from Gordon’s face, and he shook his head.
“No, sir. It wasn’t like that!”
“No, perhaps not,” Buller continued. “Perhaps that shot was as wild as all the rest. Were you really aiming for Fargo, but couldn’t hit him any better than anything else?”
“ No , sir. I swear it, upon my honor!”
“If, as I suspect, you are a damned spy, you have no honor, sir, so your oath is hardly reassuring.”
Enjoyable as it was to watch Gordon getting roasted over a fire—and it really was—I knew I had to step in before this careened out of control.
“No, it can’t be Gordon,” I said.
General Buller’s eyebrows went up a little in surprise, and for the first time he looked at me with genuine interest. I learned something about him right then. Everything he’d done up until then had been a deliberate performance, and everything he’d seen and heard had been exactly what he expected, until I came to Gordon’s defense.
“Go on,” he ordered.
“You can
“Be patient,” I answered. “It wasn’t founded until 1890, but we managed to make a name for ourselves fairly quickly. Redvers . Do your friends call you ‘Red’?”
“Damn you, sir, they do not . Americans must prize a particularly thick sort of professor. Just what did you intend by taking on two armed assailants?”
“I intended not to go with them.”
“Damned foolish, if you ask me,” he said.
“Well, you guys have been so nice to me, I couldn’t bear to leave.”
“‘Better the enemy you know’ was more likely your motive,” Buller muttered.
There was more than a little truth to that.
“I think this ‘Old Man’ may be the only one who can get me back to my time,” I said. “I want to have a nice long talk with him about that, but not as his prisoner. So I’m going to need some help.”
Buller stood there for a moment and stared at me.
“Indeed,” he said finally. “And you expect us to provide that help?”
“Yup. You want him, and I appear to be the key to getting him, or at least bringing him out into the open. His henchman said as much. So you need me for bait, and I need you for muscle. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Buller snorted and looked to Thomson, who simply raised his eyebrows in reply.
“And I suppose I’m to trust you because you turned on your captors,” Buller said. “But you did not raise a finger until after Tyndall and Rossbank were dead. How do I know the entire episode wasn’t staged just to put you in our good graces?”
“You’re director of military intelligence. In my time I’d know what that means. Here, not so much. Is this just another assignment, or have you actually done this stuff before?”
“‘Done this stuff before?’ Listen to this fellow, Thomson. You actually believe he is a professor of anything ? He talks like a guttersnipe.”
“Well, he is American,” Thomson answered.
“Hummph. I was chief of intelligence in the Ashanti campaign and again in the Sudan in ‘82, so, yes, I have ‘done this stuff’ before. What of it?”
“You’d give a lot to have a source inside the highest level of your enemy’s counsels, right? Sure you would,” I said. “But once you had it, would you risk it just to get a second one?”
“What are you insinuating, Fargo?” Gordon demanded.
Buller turned on him.
“Found your voice, have you, Captain? He is insinuating nothing; he is stating the obvious. We already have a viper in our midst. How else could they have found out about both Fargo and the artifact? As I’d say you were the principal suspect, your outburst is hardly surprising.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Buller answered. “I must say, Gordon, for a serving officer that was a remarkably unconvincing display of marksmanship. You put pistol bullets all over the place, missed almost everything you aimed at, but your very first shot hit the henchman square in the back. Or should I say square in the body armor?”
The color drained from Gordon’s face, and he shook his head.
“No, sir. It wasn’t like that!”
“No, perhaps not,” Buller continued. “Perhaps that shot was as wild as all the rest. Were you really aiming for Fargo, but couldn’t hit him any better than anything else?”
“ No , sir. I swear it, upon my honor!”
“If, as I suspect, you are a damned spy, you have no honor, sir, so your oath is hardly reassuring.”
Enjoyable as it was to watch Gordon getting roasted over a fire—and it really was—I knew I had to step in before this careened out of control.
“No, it can’t be Gordon,” I said.
General Buller’s eyebrows went up a little in surprise, and for the first time he looked at me with genuine interest. I learned something about him right then. Everything he’d done up until then had been a deliberate performance, and everything he’d seen and heard had been exactly what he expected, until I came to Gordon’s defense.
“Go on,” he ordered.
“You can
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