sir?” The waiter spoke with a thick Eastern Eurostate accent.
“Definitely boiled, with butter,” said Giles, exhaling his smoke teasingly toward Steven.
“Me too. You didn’t want a starter?” Giles shook his head. “That’s fine, thanks.”
“Don’t mind if I smoke?” It was Steven’s turn to shake his head. “Good, it’s the only reason I come here. The food’s very…average. Now, let’s dispense with the chit-chat and tell me about this scandal of yours. I’d like to make the three-o’clock shuttle back home if that’s okay with you.”
Their monkfish arrived, along with a second bottle of chardonnay, by the time Steven had related the essence of the story to Giles, who seemed less than impressed, and reverted to intermittent small talk as they ate.
“As scandals go, it’s very low grade,” Giles eventually announced disparagingly between his last few mouthfuls. “I could tell you things that would really make your hair curl!”
“Don’t bait me.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. I’ve signed documents giving them the right to violently extract my entrails if I ever spill the beans on what goes on behind the scenes at party HQ. Seriously Steve, what’s the big deal about switching three dead MOD types for non people thingies? I’m sure their nearest and dearest will be delighted you haven’t been given a chance to splash it all over the Echo. Unless they were ministers or civil servants, you wouldn’t normally be given the IDs for personnel connected to the military. Not these days.
“But it’s wrong.”
“Maybe, but that’s life. Before the British Nationalist thing flared up again they were a bit more open about these things…but you know what it’s like now. Everyone’s a bit fried, we’re all a little more paranoid about who we give information to these days.”
“Whatever happened to the Freedom of Information Act, eh?”
“Why do you think I quit reporting? Freedom of the press, it’s all a sham, Steve. We can’t afford that kind of freedom any more or the lunatic fringe will have us blown to hell in no time and we’ll be back to the bad old days.”
“What bad old days?” Giles lit another cigarette and Steven fought the temptation.
“You know, the French invading and taking over the Eurostates and killing Jews…the Yanks hammering the hell out of our economy.”
“It was the Germans.”
“What?” Giles swigged the last of his chardonnay.
“The Germans, I’m pretty sure it was the Germans who invaded everywhere.”
“Whatever…I’m starting to sound like a devotee now, but whichever party you support we all agree on one thing. The Federation of Eurostates came about for a very good reason and without it we’d be totally…”
“Dessert sir?” The waiter was back.
“Pardon? Oh…sorry…banoffi pie…and cream, please.” Giles seemed momentarily thrown by the interruption. Steven wondered how banoffi pie fitted the description ‘light lunch’.
“Not for me, thanks. You were saying…rather loudly…we’d be totally…?”
“Loudly? Oh God…I’d started doing that thing again where I spout political gobbledygook. Do stop me if I do it again, it’s awfully embarrassing. I sound like some kind of deranged fanatic. I shall have to start looking for a different job, you know.”
Steven smiled to hide his disappointment. Lunch, and a costly one at that, had barely aided his
“Definitely boiled, with butter,” said Giles, exhaling his smoke teasingly toward Steven.
“Me too. You didn’t want a starter?” Giles shook his head. “That’s fine, thanks.”
“Don’t mind if I smoke?” It was Steven’s turn to shake his head. “Good, it’s the only reason I come here. The food’s very…average. Now, let’s dispense with the chit-chat and tell me about this scandal of yours. I’d like to make the three-o’clock shuttle back home if that’s okay with you.”
Their monkfish arrived, along with a second bottle of chardonnay, by the time Steven had related the essence of the story to Giles, who seemed less than impressed, and reverted to intermittent small talk as they ate.
“As scandals go, it’s very low grade,” Giles eventually announced disparagingly between his last few mouthfuls. “I could tell you things that would really make your hair curl!”
“Don’t bait me.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. I’ve signed documents giving them the right to violently extract my entrails if I ever spill the beans on what goes on behind the scenes at party HQ. Seriously Steve, what’s the big deal about switching three dead MOD types for non people thingies? I’m sure their nearest and dearest will be delighted you haven’t been given a chance to splash it all over the Echo. Unless they were ministers or civil servants, you wouldn’t normally be given the IDs for personnel connected to the military. Not these days.
“But it’s wrong.”
“Maybe, but that’s life. Before the British Nationalist thing flared up again they were a bit more open about these things…but you know what it’s like now. Everyone’s a bit fried, we’re all a little more paranoid about who we give information to these days.”
“Whatever happened to the Freedom of Information Act, eh?”
“Why do you think I quit reporting? Freedom of the press, it’s all a sham, Steve. We can’t afford that kind of freedom any more or the lunatic fringe will have us blown to hell in no time and we’ll be back to the bad old days.”
“What bad old days?” Giles lit another cigarette and Steven fought the temptation.
“You know, the French invading and taking over the Eurostates and killing Jews…the Yanks hammering the hell out of our economy.”
“It was the Germans.”
“What?” Giles swigged the last of his chardonnay.
“The Germans, I’m pretty sure it was the Germans who invaded everywhere.”
“Whatever…I’m starting to sound like a devotee now, but whichever party you support we all agree on one thing. The Federation of Eurostates came about for a very good reason and without it we’d be totally…”
“Dessert sir?” The waiter was back.
“Pardon? Oh…sorry…banoffi pie…and cream, please.” Giles seemed momentarily thrown by the interruption. Steven wondered how banoffi pie fitted the description ‘light lunch’.
“Not for me, thanks. You were saying…rather loudly…we’d be totally…?”
“Loudly? Oh God…I’d started doing that thing again where I spout political gobbledygook. Do stop me if I do it again, it’s awfully embarrassing. I sound like some kind of deranged fanatic. I shall have to start looking for a different job, you know.”
Steven smiled to hide his disappointment. Lunch, and a costly one at that, had barely aided his
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