BOOK 4: PREPARATION / CH. 20:HOME FROM HOME
MONDAY, 11TH DECEMBER, 8AM
Nigel had asked Bella to do the meeting and greeting, since he didn't know everyone. So, while he watched their luggage and the food in the warmth of the transit station, she was outside, watching for the others. Mostly she was looking for Trevor.
“Hi, Bella. Boo!” Pris said, materialising behind her.
“Hey! Hasn't anyone told you not to surprise people like that? Where did you spring from?”
“I saw you a while back and hid behind that big man.”
“That's crazy. I should have seen you.”
“Why? I had a perfect camouflage. His bulk covered my body, his suitcase covered my legs. And I'm supposed to be able to be able to sneak past unsuspecting people, remember?”
“I'm not supposed to be unsuspecting though am I?”
“Not normally. You must have something on your mind, or your brain is off duty.”
“Maybe a bit of both.” Bella admitted.
“Oooh, do tell. What's on your mind?”
“Nigel's brother, Trevor.”
“You mean your secondary task?”
“What? No, I know the answer to that, in the circumstances, Maria absolved me from it, but Trevor told me anyway.”
“'In the circumstances?' He's not hurt is he?”
“What? No, he'd better not be anyway. Keep guessing.”
Pris studied Bella's face. Her eyes were sparkling, and she'd been looking around for someone, even while she'd been talking to Pris.
“Bella Monroe, I do believe that you've come down with the bug that seems to be striking half the people I know.”
“Only half? I thought it was an epidemic.”
“The others are married already. So, what's your excuse?”
“I didn't think I needed one. I met Trevor, he's a Christian, we like each other.”
“Oh come on, Bella. You've got a reputation for rejecting every suitor that comes your way! What's so special about Trevor?”
Bella gave a secretive little smile, “Where's the fun if I tell you? I expect you'll work it out soon enough. But what about you, if you don't mind me asking? You're surely not going to tell me that you've been travelling the world and never met anyone who's caught your eye?”
“Some have caught my eye, I've even been on dates, but... you know, once I let on that I'm a courier I never get a second date. I think it's the courier reputation. It must scare them off, or something.”
“That can't be right. It's just in movies, surely.”
“I've not thought of it until now, but you think of male couriers in general. What's the reputation?”
“Hmmm. Couriers who are men... Here today, gone tomorrow, maybe even gone by midnight. Usually so messed up by jet-lag they can sleep any time. Trust them to deliver the package, but don't trust them to turn up for a date, but at the same time no one would really believe they don't have lovers all over the world.”
“Exactly. And couriers who are women?”
“Different to the men.” Bella said.
“I should hope so. And?”
“You're the only one I know, but in the media, I'd guess the stereotype is Cool and collected, mysterious, romantic figures who come and go unexpectedly, maybe not returning for years, leaving broken hearts behind them.”
“You see? And young Eliza is applying to be a courier, but Karen tells me that she's also looking for Mr Right, the poor thing. And asking questions about God. So's Dirk, by the way, asking about God, I mean.”
“Why does looking for Mr Right make her a poor thing?”
“Because, based on personal experience, she doesn't have much chance of convincing him that she's serious before he decides she isn't. Or of spending very long with him before she's sent off in another direction.”
“You've got friends though, haven't you? You and Karen are close.”
Pris sighed. “Yes, I have. But that's mostly through being assigned to Maria, and then getting frozen. Some months I only I spent about three days in my flat. Other months it was more like a fortnight. As a young courier I saw more of Maria and her family than anyone here.”
“And now? You're not travelling now, are you?”
“No. I'm still officially recuperating from the attack.”
“And you're going back to a courier's life after that?”
“Probably not, at least not for a while. After Underwood's trial and the press attention I got...”
“You're famous. And famous plus secret courier don't go together, do they? But what does that do for Eliza?”
“Hopefully, without her wig, she's going to be OK. It's not like her name was in the press too. But where is everyone?”
“Nigel's inside, with the luggage, and I can see Trevor and Fido now at long last.”
“So you mean I could be getting warm rather than gossiping with you?”
“Sorry, of course! He's in waiting area 3B. You go in the door here, turn left and down the corridor on the right.”
“But that would mean I miss any clue there might be in you two greeting one another.” Pris pointed out.
“It would indeed. So you're staying?”
“At least for a bit.”
“What is Eliza wearing?” Bella asked, checking the other direction and seeing Dirk and Eliza coming. They were a long way off, but noticeable. Pris followed her gaze. “Urm, not what I'd normally think of as suitable attire for walks in the hills.” Eliza had eschewed normal wisdom about hiking gear for a long dress of what looked like gold-embroidered green velvet. It didn't quite go with the modern back-pack she was also carrying. Dirk was entirely embarrassed by his little sister, and was pretending he didn't know her. The fact they had a very similar back-packs and she kept talking to him rather spoiled the effect.
“It's probably warm.” Bella pointed out. “I wonder if her wig is part of that get-up, normally.”
“Entirely possible.” Pris said.
Trevor arrived first, and Bella greeted him with a wordless embrace.
[I've missed you, Bella.]
[I've missed you, too. But aren't we making a spectacle of ourselves?]
[Not compared to Eliza's dress.]
[That's Eliza?]
[You saw her then?]
[That dress is quite noticeable.]
[So's Fido's bone.]
[He refused to leave it at home.]
“Hi, Fido, I see you brought your bone! Have you met Pris, Trevor?”
“Hello Pris. Sorry about the bone, Bella gave it to him on Saturday and I can't get it away from him.”
“Hi, Trevor. It looks too heavy for him.” Pris said. Fido had put one end of the bone down on the floor as though he was having a rest.
Bella laughed. “You should have seen the tree he was carrying for two hours on Saturday. I guess he's got the neck-muscles.”
“Nigel's inside with the shopping, area 3B.” Bella supplied.
“That seems to be his favourite spot. Do you mind if I go ahead? I want to see his face when you bring Eliza in.”
“Not at all! Just describe it later. Pris, do you want to go in too?”
“I think I do, yes.” Pris said “You think his face is going to be impressive?” she asked Trevor.
“He used to dabble in reenactment as a student. Eliza's obviously more than dabbled if she's comfortable wearing that in front of the general public.”
“Oh, I see. Just so you know, Bella said that I should work out what's so special about you.”
“Oh, did she? And have you?”
“Possibly.” She wondered how to ask, then decided that she couldn't ask Trevor directly if he shared Bella's power without first knowing if he knew Bella had the power. Trevor, of course, heard.
“I know, and yes I do. Sorry, I overheard you.” he said.
“That answers my question then. I presume you're not planning to tell everyone.”
“No. I've heard about Dirk's reputation.”
“He's struggling with it, and that might, just might, draw him to God.”
“That'd be good. You've talked to him?”
“Yes. I'd say that on a scale of zero to ten, his Christian knowledge is about zero now, but that's an improvement because it was minus one.”
“But he's open?”
“Yes. So's Eliza, apparently. We might have some good discussions in the evenings.”
“That's good. I don't know if you've met Nigel. Nigel, this is Priscilla.”
“Hello Nigel, I'm fairly sure I've seen you around.”
“Hello Priscilla. Likewise.”
“Call me Pris, please.” Pris said.
Trevor looked at the pair of them together. Pris had dark hair, was just under Nigel's height, and had clearance. He guessed she was younger than Nigel. Which meant that she met Nigel's not very demanding criteria for an ideal woman. But then, Eliza had dark hair too, he realised, as she entered the room with Bella and Dirk. He quickly switched his gaze to Nigel's face. He wasn't disappointed.
Nigel's eyes were open wide and a smile grew on his face, and then Trevor saw Nigel's eyes searching, almost reading, and then a mixture of disappointment and determination crept into his brother's eyes.
“Milady, had I but known you would be present, I would have worn more fitting garb.” he said with a florid bow.
Eliza's eyes twinkled as she stepped into character “Indeed, sir, your garb is most strange, like these others I see around me, but I notice by your manner and your speech that you are of noble birth. How might you be known, good sir?”
“I am sometime known as Sir Nigel Brokennose, and though it is long years since I have frequented the lists, there were few who vanquished me, save the monarch of the fifth kingdom, whose crest you wear. Is my liege, king Robert still found in good health?”
“Sir, I know of your name and repute, but wonder if you have been absent from noble society too long, and have forgotten of who you speak! King William has been monarch of the kingdom for these past thirteen years, after king Robert was mortally wounded in a fierce battle of chess.”
“Forgive me milady, a mere test. I judge then that your fine apparel is no hand-me-down, but that the runes, crests and signs you bear speak truly.”
“Indeed, they speak truly, sir knight, upon my honour.”
“Then as knight-protector of the royal court I must offer you my protection in this rude and unlettered company.” He checked his wrist unit. “But we'd better hurry or we'll miss our transit.”
“I was wondering.” Eliza said with a smile.
“This way.”
----------------------------------------
Nigel had booked tickets for them in a six-seater transit, so they could discuss things together easily. He hadn't expected the first topic of conversation.
“So what was all that stuff about runes, Eliza?” Bella asked, once they were underway.
“Well, this sign on my belt here says that I'm part of the royal court of the fifth kingdom, and Sir Nigel Brokennose here was checking that I knew my history and wasn't just some imposter wearing second hand clothes above her station.”
“In which case, I'd have had a little problem.” Nigel said. “Because once I'd announced my name and rank then if she had been an imposter I have had certain duties, at least in the make-believe world of the fifth kingdom.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“According to the rules, he would have had to demand my belt and cut up it up with three strikes of his sword.” Eliza supplied.
“I can see that working in the middle of a field of like-minded people, but it's a bit tricky in the middle of a train station.”
“Yes.” Eliza agreed.
“And at least when I was last there, there was an explicit rule that said no true knight could ignore such rules, ever. Do they still have the annual debate about cancelling that one?” he asked Eliza.
“Yes. It's a firm tradition. There's also a lottery about who gets to be pelted with eggs for raising the subject.”
“Still! That was my idea, back when I was young and foolish.” Nigel said, shaking his head.
“And what do the other symbols mean?” Pris asked, intrigued.
“Nigel, would you like to do the honours?” Eliza asked.
“OK, right to left. She's from the 5th kingdom, in king William's court, a noble of the first tier, that she reached her position not through relatives but through combat in service to the king, in her case, archery and unarmed combat were involved. After that, it's more personal. Shall I continue?”
“Go ahead, Nigel.” Eliza said.
“Eliza has no husband, no accepted suitor, no claim to magic, she has no faith,” he pointed them out, one by one. “She's been trained as a warrior, and also as an assassin, and she's armed and dangerous, and then you should recognise the variation on Security's symbol there, that means she's got real-world authority, not just make-believe.”
“Well! Talk about an open curriculum vitae.”
“To be fair, most people wouldn't recognise all of them. Particularly the assassin one.” Nigel said.
“I never realised you were so involved in it.” Trevor said.
“Well, it was good fun as a student, but once I started working for Royal protection for real, playing at it wasn't so much fun.”
“I can imagine that.” Eliza said. “But you'd certainly be welcome if you chose to come back. Forgive me for asking, I've always wondered... how did you get a title of Brokennose?”
“Because I got a broken nose just before I was knighted, along with the broken jaw bone and various teeth knocked out. The broken nose was actually defending William, so I got it in my title.” He looked at Trevor.
“Sorry, Nigel.”
“Wait, you're saying that Trevor wrecked your face? When was that?” Pris asked.
“When I was sixteen, and his friend William got to be able to fly solo, Trevor thought it would be a wonderful chance to cure me. They tried to tie me up to get me onto the plane. I went a bit loopy.” Trevor said.
“Just slightly.” Nigel agreed, rubbing his jaw.
“So as well as playing King William's protector, you actually were?” Eliza asked.
“Yes.”
“No wonder you're famous.” Eliza said.
“In certain circles.” Nigel admitted.
“Certain circles? You've had ballads written about you. I can even see the grain of truth in the most famous of them, now.”
“Do tell.” Bella asked.
“It's called 'The Ballad of the Dragon' and don't ask me to sing it, but it talks about how King William tamed a dragon, which I guess equates to getting his private pilot's license, and that then there was a great battle, and Nigel Brokennose received great wounds, but still single handedly and with great valour saved the king from the seven mighty weapons of his foe, and was knighted as soon as he could stand and at once he became the king's right hand man.”
“Seven weapons?” Bella asked.
“Hand's, knees, feet and teeth, maybe?” Pris guessed.
“Or just artistic license.” Nigel said “You can't really rely on ballad writers to bother with more than two facts per hour of song.”
“What I don't get, Trevor, is what was so bad about being tied up. It was just some prank, wasn't it?” Pris asked. “Not really.” Trevor said. “My great not-so-secret secret. I don't like flying. Or, to put it like the psych computers, I have a strong instinctive aversion to flying. Put me in a boat, submarine or one of these contraptions any day. But fly? I'd rather walk there on my hands. Or ride a man-eating crocodile.”
“It's not fear of heights.” Bella said “He considers dangling off rock-faces in November a perfectly sane activity.”
“How would you consider bungee jumping?” asked Eliza.
“A bit nuts, but I've done it once. It's just flying. Nothing else at all as far as I know.”
“Human cannonball?” suggested Dirk.
“I almost had a go on a man-flinging trebuchet once, at one of Nigel's grand fairs. Does that count?”
“What stopped you?” Bella asked.
“I saw the man doing the weight calculations getting his maths wrong. I pointed out his mistake but decided it was safer to bottle out at that point.”
“It's very easy.” Nigel said. “Trevor's not really afraid of anything sensible people get nervous about, but he's piled all his rational and irrational fears into fixed wing aeroplanes. Maybe helicopters too. No one knows why.”
“I'm just weird, sorry. But Eliza, what made you decide to dress up like that?”
“It's warm, and I worked hard on making it, and I don't get much chance to wear it. I thought, why not, if this is supposed to be a holiday?”
“It is certainly beautiful.” Bella said. “And I don't think anyone would think you're on duty.”
“Thank you.”
“You made it all yourself?”
“Well, that would be exaggerating. I did the design and the embroidery myself, but got the basic dress made professionally.”
“It doesn't exactly look very practical though, milady,” Nigel said.
“Oh, it's practical. It's got a water and grease repellent coating. I've even worn it in combat. Even grass stains just wipe off.”
“So you're not expecting to skip the cooking, washing up, and so on.”
“Not even the wood chopping. Except... please don't make me eat Dirk's cooking. I know I survived last time, but I'd rather not take the chance again.”
“Isn't she appreciative?” Dirk said. “I cook her a cheese omelette for her fourteenth birthday, and ever since she says that I tried to poison her.”
“It's not just the omelette, it's that I've seen the interesting lifeforms in his kitchen, and watched the way that he tortures innocent vegetables. I just can't stand to think of it. I'd rather starve!” with this, she put her hand dramatically to her forehead and collapsed into Pris's lap, in mock tears.
“As you can see, my sister is a little dramatic at times.” Dirk said.
“OK, Eliza. Would you please behave sensibly?” Pris said.
“Do I have to?” She said, looking up.
“Yes.”
“Oh, all right.” Eliza gave in and resumed her place.
Pris said, “Dirk, I know what you said last week, but seriously, how would you rate Eliza's cooking skills, and your own?”
“I'd give her seven out of ten, and myself one. I admit it, I managed to burn a boiled egg not long ago. So, I'm happy to chop wood or wash up or whatever instead.”
Nigel took over, “OK, anyone else wanting to say what they do or don't want to do?”
“I've spent about an hour reading up on the stove.” Trevor offered. “It's probably very simple once you're used to it, but it's got a lot of controls and if no one else knows about it then I'm happy to keep it fed and watered.”
“It needs water?” Dirk asked.
“No. But we might decide we want warm water for showers or washing.”
“Good point.”
“Did anyone read up about how the showers work? I don't understand how you can have a shower when there's no pipes.” Pris asked.
Trevor had looked that up. “Three easy steps. First, make sure the right bit of the stove is hot. That's my job, I guess. Secondly fetch a bucket of cold water, and pour about half of it into the right hole on top of the stove. It comes out of a pipe lower down, into another bucket, steaming hot. Add cold water to adjust the temperature down, or if you make it too cold, pour some more through the stove. Then the final stage is you hook the second bucket onto the pulley in the bathroom, pull it up, and underneath you'll see a shower head. Unscrew the shower head a little to start the water, screw it the other way to turn it off. Don't forget to turn it off after you've finished, or you get to mop up the floor in the kitchen.”
“Oh, a bucket shower. They work. Just make sure you get the temperature right.”
Eliza said.
“And if anyone's foolish enough to run out of water when their hair is full of shampoo, then either suffer in silence or shout for help and hope there's someone willing to refill the bucket for you?” Bella asked.
“I guess so.” Trevor agreed.
“That really doesn't sound too complicated.” Pris said.
“It's not.” Eliza confirmed. “I've used a bucket shower plenty of times at tournaments.”
“I guess that we don't all take showers in quick succession, or whoever gets the last shower doesn't get very warm water.” Trevor qualified.
“That depends how much wood you're burning, surely?” Dirk asked.
“Sort of. But it looks like the burner is intended to burn the wood at a set rate, so that it's all maximally efficient and smoke free. So we can burn it longer, but we can't burn it hotter, if you see what I mean.”
“Oh well, I guess we'll learn.” Eliza said.
“I hope so. And then we can pass on what we've learned to others.” Bella said.
“Indeed.” Pris agreed. “Trevor, you did the shopping, what can you tell us about meals, then we can agree on a rota.”
“Actually, Bella helped a lot.” Trevor said.
“And we decided that if Nigel's going to be organiser then he can get the blame for organising the rota.” Bella added.
Nigel gave a florid bow. “As always, I'm at your service, milady Bella.”
“OK, basics. We planned for two hot meals a day, since we're expecting snow and cold tired people. Soup, we expect for lunch, and something more substantial in the evenings.”
“We're taking soup in flasks or something?” Eliza asked.
“No, I've got a two-burner camping stove, and plenty of liquifuel.” Trevor said.
“How... modern.” Eliza said, with obvious distaste.
“Well, you can rub sticks together if you like, Eliza, but you're carrying the wood if you really want to try a lighting a camp-fire on snow. I don't know how you'll keep it dry though.” Dirk said.
“Easy. I've got a flame-proof mat in my pack. Fire goes on top, snow and ice stays below.” Eliza said. “I've also got the makings of a fire-bow, a flint and steel and plenty of bone-dry tinder.”
“We'd better check if there are any local laws about where we can light a fire if you're serious.” Pris said. “I for one don't want to give the local police the opportunity to give us a formal warning or to start wondering what we're doing there.”
“Hmm. Yes. It's all very well for us to say we're on holiday if the neighbours ask what we're doing, but what's the protocol if we're talking to police?” Trevor asked.
“Nigel, I think it's your call.” Bella said. “Do we lie, or do we tell them we're here officially and can they please keep their noses out of it?”
“I think the latter. Or actually, we could tell them that we've been instructed to tell people we're on holiday and leave it at that.”
“I have a question.” Eliza said. “Has anyone actually asked the local police if they've got any information about the place?”
Trevor raised a finger. “I requested information. No reply as of Thursday evening, I've not checked since then.”
“Could you, please?”
“Of course. There were a few other things I wanted to check too. Like have they been doing their maintenance properly.”
“What, leaking roofs, that sort of thing?”
“No, the stove. I read the dire warnings on the manufacturer's website. Improper maintenance might lead to a small risk of boiling water in your face, a smaller risk of a devastating steam explosion, and a relatively high risk that in the right weather conditions and a cold stove, the smoke comes back into the room and gives you a nice dose of carbon monoxide.”
“Nasty.” Bella said.
“That's what I thought.”
“OK, Trevor, you concentrate on that, can you?” Nigel said, then asked “Bella, what meals have you planned for us? Then we can decide who cooks what and how.”
While Bella answered that and other questions, Trevor extended his screen and focussed his awareness on it. He'd had a reply, just this morning.
No investigations in progress. There had been a change in ownership a few years earlier and there had been some complaints about the new owner from regular guests. These had been investigated but without conclusive results.
Hmm. That could have been anything from shady business practices to just not being as friendly as the previous owner. He checked the company accounts for maintenance expenditure. There had been a slight dip with the new owners, but nothing worrying. More had been spent on advertising with the new owners, and the occupancy rates had risen, he saw. Then he checked the breakdown in more detail. That was more interesting. The previous owner had contracted the stove maintenance out to the manufacturer, which had cost 70% of the maintenance budget. The new owner had picked another contractor, who charged far less — just 30% of the budget, and spent the difference on refurbishments. Nothing particularly worrying there, as long as the new contractor was still doing the same task. He quickly scanned some reviews about the complex which agreed with what the accounts told him. Under the old owner, there had been comments about the interior looking tatty, which vanished with the new owners. There were a few complaints about the stove being too complicated, and one which said there used to be detailed instructions on using it but they'd been replaced with a simplified version this year. He found a copy of it. No mention of testing the water flow, or of how to light the stove if it was above zero outside. Not a good sign.
On a hunch, he checked the stove manufacturer's accounts to see how much profit they had been making on the maintenance contracts. Uh oh. Hardly anything. Of course labour was going to be a factor there, as was any internal charges. It was always possible to make one department seem to be losing money by some creative accounting. But there weren't internal charges. If anything, he'd guess that there should have been. Accountant's fees were charged against the main company books, for instance. Were they paying above the odds for labour? No, it didn't look like it. So... what were the possibilities? The manufacturer might be overly cautious, and cleaning things every year that only needed cleaning every three years, or alternatively the new contractors were deliberately skimping on stove maintenance, and the owners knew it. He looked up from his display.
“We're almost there, Trevor.” Bella said. “Any news?”
“Yes. New owners three and a half years ago. They've spent more on internal prettiness, and significantly less on the stove maintenance. The previous contractor was the stove manufacturer, who wasn't making lots of profit on the maintenance side of things — hardly covering costs if you ask me, although in their formal accounts they've been slightly creative to make it look like it's still worth doing.”
“Slightly creative?” Dirk asked.
“Maintenance department pays nothing for communications, secretarial or accounting services, and makes five percent profit on their contracts overall. I'd guess they'd be making five percent loss on their contracts if they paid their share of the secretarial costs based on the staffing levels.”
“Ouch. So they've cut their margins to the bone and then some?” Dirk said.
“I think so. Cut and thrust of competition, but wanting to keep their heads held high for the good name of the company or something.” Trevor said.
“So, at the very least, before our friends stay there, we get someone to check the stove?” Nigel proposed.
“I'd think so, yes. And I'll do what I can for our stay. The original instruction set gave the user some simple tests to check everything was all right.” Trevor said. “Some customer reviews say that's gone now, but I've got a copy.”
“And if our stove fails the test?” Bella asked.
“Then, at a guess, we have a little chat with the man at the office and ask for one which does pass. Plus call in the local consumer protection or health and safety people.”
“That sounds reasonable, but what does it do to our cover?” Eliza asked.
“Not much, but it means we get put down as troublesome customers.”
“But I guess we don't admit that I've been looking into their financial records, let alone the records of an ex-contractor.” Trevor suggested.
“Why not, they're in the public record, aren't they?” Bella asked.
“Yes, but what sort of customer would check the financial soundness of their holiday home?”
“An utterly paranoid one.” Nigel said.
“Or someone thinking of investing in the company?” Bella suggested.
“Bella, I've got some savings, but not enough to buy this resort.”
“Your friend William sounds rich, if he's got a plane.” Pris said “Would he be interested?”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Eliza shook her head. “My liege, King William of the fifth kingdom, hath a trusting spirit. It pains me to say he has invested his inheritance on bad advice so many times that he no longer has the dragon he worked so hard to tame. In other words, he desperately needs a better paying job so he can pay off some personal debts he incurred when his last venture failed. So, unless you know any real millionaires, with genuine business acumen, I think this isn't going to go anywhere.”
“Trevor, how full is the resort, on average? Did you find out?” Bella asked.
“Even in peak season, it's often not full. I think the advertising has mostly been word of mouth, until recently. The report said something like `our recent investment in advertising has seen average occupancy levels reach fifty percent year round.'”
Dirk said “I can see this place being somewhere that the stove manufacturers might want to invest in, as a show-case for their product.”
“I can't actually imagine they sell very many in a year.” Bella said.
“Oh, I don't know.” Dirk replied “The stove seems ideal for a rural get-away. There's no water to freeze but you can still have a hot shower. Every millionaire with a mountain get-away they only use once a month should want one for that feature.”
“Or maybe every family living in rebuilt Restoration.” Bella thought aloud. “At least, based on the last I heard one of the post-impact issues was going to be that putting up houses was going to be relatively easy, as it was fairly easy to put together a prefabricated house with semi-skilled labour, but connecting them up to power, heat and water meant more experts than there are in the country. But if heat could be delivered by truck and a bit of unskilled labour...”
“Interesting idea, Bella.” Nigel said. “Call it in?”
“I will. It'd mean a lot of wood, of course. I don't know if that's possible.”
“It might be. But on the other hand, if there was some way of either burning liquifuel in one of those stoves, or making a solid equivalent of liquifuel which burnt more like wood, that'd be very handy.” Eliza suggested.
“I do like the solid fuel version. I don't know if it's possible, though.”
Trevor pondered “Liquifuel's wonderful as a convenience fuel but it's not the safest thing to have around kids.”
“Well, as a natural version there's still plenty of coal in the ground.” Dirk pointed out.
“Ouch. Welcome back global warming. The whole point of liquifuel is that it's carbon neutral.” Bella retorted.
“I wonder if the liquifuel process could adjusted to make wax?” Eliza asked.
“Hold on people.” Pris said. “You're not thinking short term enough. I don't believe their majesties are going to want to invent a whole new infrastructure devoted to a new fuel-stuff. Maybe Dirk's idea of using some coal has merit, but I seem to remember reading that it was hard to get at. We don't have a coal mining industry now. But we do know how to get wood, and we know that long term it's as carbon neutral as can be. As long as the pollution issues are solved, then in this crisis time then maybe wood is the best solution.”
“The stove needs an insulated burner, that's the most important part,” Trevor said, “the heat store can be bricks or tiles or even be compacted earth from what I read.”
“OK, I'll send in our thoughts. Trevor, can you send me links, company details and the like? I'm sure that their people are going to have an idea of how to come up with a short term, efficient heating solution, for an entire city with limited infrastructure, and then we can get back to our task.”
“Your wish is my command.” he said.
Fido just kept on at his self-assigned task — to get the most out of this bone before someone took it away from him.
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BLACKWOOD CABINS
“So how come you're starting your holiday today? Most people come at weekends.” the site-manager cum receptionist, who was at least in his mid-fifties, asked them as he drove them up the mountain.
“Bella, how many full days off have you ended up having in the last month?” Trevor asked.
“Hmm. Well, I was working yesterday but I got most of Saturday off, didn't I? I guess that makes five days. What about you, Nigel?”
“Working yesterday, half-day on Saturday after a full week. Further back it's a bit of a blur. Maybe I got four days in total, I lost count.”
“Weekends are busy.” Eliza agreed. “But they must be for you too, surely?”
“Well, of course, but I'm in the tourist trade. Weekends are prime time.”
“Anyone noticed such a thing as a slack time?” Eliza asked.
“No. Every day is as busy as another.” Pris said.
“You're government, though, aren't you?”
“Civil service. Don't confuse us with politicians, please. We work for our living.” Dirk said.
“I believe you. And you're really armed and dangerous, miss?” he asked Eliza, recognising that symbol on her belt.
“Oh yes.” Eliza said with a wicked smile “Always “.
“I don't recognise the rest of your runes, you must be from another kingdom, but the skull and cross-swords is pretty much universal.”
“Which kingdom is it around here?”
“Oh, well, we're right on the border here. Thirtieth kingdom is to the west, ninth to the east. I don't suppose you want to extend your stay to the weekend? There's going to be a tournament just down the road.”
“I can't, sorry. This is my entire summer holiday.” Eliza said, lying outrageously.
“Strange idea you've got of summer.” he laughed.
“Well, you know how it is, one urgent thing coming up after another.”
“Are all of you re-enacters?” he asked.
“No, only me and my knight-protector here.”
“And I didn't know milady here was coming in garb. But really, even if I had, I think full-plate and broadsword might not be the right clothes for hill-walking. Or for getting on the transit, for that matter.” Nigel said with a laugh.
“Well, you're in the right place for hills, that's certain. We've got no end of them. A bit of snow on the ground with more on the way.”
“Would there be any problem with making a little cooking fire if we're out on a walk?” Trevor asked, “Assuming milady here can find some dry wood that is, she's keen to avoid using my camp-stove. I think she thinks it's cheating.”
“Good luck with that, then, milady! I've no idea where you'd find any dry stuff. I know it's also cheating, but as long as it's just for cooking you're allowed to take some from the wood store. Cooking fires are no problem at all. You're not going to start a brush fire with the snow on the ground, that's certain. Sometimes there's a ban, but not now, hasn't been for years.”
“Have you worked here long?” Bella asked, grateful for that lead-in.
“Oh, about ten years now. It's not the best paying job, but it's not seasonal, so that's good.”
“I read something about a change in ownership.” Trevor prompted. “Has that affected you much?”
“Not much, no. We're getting a few more customers. The old guy tried to do everything right, but towards the end it seemed he thought word of mouth was best form of advertising, which was a bit nuts, if you ask me. Current owner and manager are putting a bit more cash on the things people see, and on advertising. So yeah, they're good news for my job security. Some things I'd do different, of course, but they could be worse. Could be much worse.”
“I don't want to cause trouble with your employers.” Eliza asked, “But you said you'd do things differently... is there anything we should watch out for?”
“Oh, you'll be fine, milady. I'll check your wood-stove's in working order when I drop you off and show you the ropes. No rush today, that's for certain.”
“Thank-you.” Eliza said.
Trevor decided that he didn't need to press further, and changed the subject.
“I forgot to check, are there any dangerous animals around?”
“You probably won't see much this time of year. We get the odd wild boar, and there's plenty of deer. Just make sure you don't walk too quietly for the boar and you're fine whatever the season. It's only when they're startled that you're in trouble.”
“What about when it's warmer? Snakes?”
“Up here? No, nothing. It's lovely woods and it might look like unspoiled nature, but it's all re-planted and reintroduced species. Not much wildlife has moved in of it's own accord. Who'd introduce poisonous snakes into a tourist hotspot?”
“I bet there's spiders though.” Pris said.
“You're not phobic are you?” he asked.
“No, just not my favourite creature in all creation.”
“That's good. We get some real beauties. It's not the right season for them now of course.”
“That's good news. When's the right season? I need to know when not to come back!” she joked.
“Autum, normally. Well, I hope you have a lovely time and do come back. Here's your cabin.”
True to his word, he checked the stove, more comprehensively than Trevor had planned, since Trevor hadn't thought of checking nothing had built a nest in the chimney. All the time, he gave a reassuring commentary of what he was doing and why. It all made perfect sense. The only slightly worrying thing was why he felt it necessary to do it.
“Have you always done these checks?” Trevor asked.
“No, not always. Just, you know, it never hurts to check.”
“Have there ever been problems?”
“Just once. Just once, last year, and no harm done either, but that was once too often, see? It could have been much worse, and I'd hate to think of something worse happening on my watch.”
“Thank you. It's reassuring to know it's working properly.”
“I think so too. Now, you young people have a lovely time, and keep warm. Don't hesitate to ring the office if there's any problem. Night or day. We're not in a city, so if someone might need an ambulance, it's better safe than sorry, if you get my meaning. Oh, and do keep an eye on the weather. It can change right suddenly up here.”
“Thank you, we'll bear that in mind.” Dirk said.
“Excuse me maam,” he said to Pris. “I hope you don't mind me asking. You are that lass that Underwood stuffed in a freezer, aren't you?”
Pris was taken aback but said she was.
“I'm right glad to see you back on your feet, maam. But do take care with the cold. Regrown fingers don't much like it.” he waggled two of his. “Personal experience right here.”
“Thank you. I've been warned.”
“I'm sure you have. I just thought I'd add my own. Very good to see you back on your feet, maam. Very good indeed. I'll be off, you young people are going to look after each other, I'm sure. That's the best way, so I'll leave you to it.”
“Nice man that.” Eliza commented as he drove away.
“Indeed. Very reassuring.” Dirk said, getting out his bug-detector, and indicating they shouldn't mention it.
“I was a bit surprised he recognised me.” Pris said. “That wasn't reassuring, really, but that's probably just paranoia. This cabin's bigger than I'd thought it might be.” As well as the kitchen/living area, there were two rooms with two beds, a single room and the living area sofa turned into another bed.
“So, Nigel, oh, respected leader who gets the blame for everything that goes wrong, have you thought about who's going to sleep where?” Bella asked.
“Not really, except that whoever sleeps here gets less privacy and the dubious privilege of having someone come in to light the stove in the morning or doing it themselves.”
“I'll be out here.” Trevor said. “It makes more sense if we avoid having Fido track mud into the bedrooms. Plus I doubt that I'll be turning in before anyone else. And before anyone makes any other claims, I'd also like to point out that this is luxury compared to the camping I'm used to, and furthermore that I'm not sleep deprived unlike some people I could mention, Bella.”
“OK, OK, it's yours!” Bella said. “Pris, rumour tells me you've not been sleeping well. Would you like the single room, or would you like company company?”
“Company, I think.” Pris decided.
“Horrible question: whose?” Eliza asked.
“You've not been sleeping well either, Bella?”
“That was just Friday night. I'm fine.
“What happened on Friday night, and how does Trevor know about it?” Eliza asked, curiously.
“What happened on Friday night... rather a lot of things I can't really talk about and then I had a report to write. I mentioned to Trevor that I re-read it on Saturday morning, and I'd obviously been far too tired to write coherently. Then a certain angel took it off my hands and gave us some extra hours together, which is how Fido got his bone.”
“Bribery being the best way to any dog's heart.” Trevor said. “No, that's not fair. Bella was already in Fido's good books.”
“Oh? How did you manage that?” Dirk asked curiously from the bedroom where he was still checking for bugs.
“I don't like little yappy dogs. Apparently Fido doesn't either. Instant friendship.”
Eliza looked at Bella, then Trevor and back to Bella. “I'm slow on the uptake, aren't I? You two...”
“Yes,” Bella said, “we walked Fido together, did the shopping together and then had a very very nice meal for two, so I guess that means that as of Saturday we're going out together.”
“And I think, therefore, I need to keep Bella under my watchful, motherly eye.” Pris said.
“Pris! First, I don't really think we need a chaperone, and secondly, you're not that much older than I am.”
“That's OK, Bella. It's as good a motive as any and it means we can let our royal personage have space to hang up all her gowns.” Pris said, with a curtsy to Eliza, who in correct and noble fashion stuck her tongue out in response. Dirk came back with his bug detector, “All clear in here, but it looks like there's some sort of signal source somewhere outside though. Don't panic yet, it could just be odd reflections from something miles away, but it might not be.”
“I'd better start that fire.” Trevor said.
“I wondered when you were going to.” Pris said, suddenly feeling cold at the thought of active bugs anywhere. Bugs meant criminals and she didn't want to be anywhere near organised crime.
“Are you OK, Pris?” Dirk asked, “You look white.”
“I think I'd like you to finish, Dirk.”
“Of course.” He went out with his detector.
“Trevor, give me your camp-stove, please.” Eliza said, “I'll make some tea. Or would you prefer coffee, Pris?”
“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Pris protested.
“Yes, but I'm thirsty, and insisting. Which one?”
“Tea please.”
“I'll get the teabags and stuff. Nigel, water?” Bella said, going to the food bags.
“Here it is, Eliza.” Trevor said, passing over his camp stove. “I thought you didn't like them? Can you set it up, it's a bit complicated?”
“I've got one, Trevor. I just prefer lower technology. I mean, liquifuel starts off as carbon dioxide in the air, gets concentrated by selective heating by lasers and so on, and then, using a pump with a surface made of artificial diamond it's forced into a reaction chamber with some hydrogen, where it's heated by a fusion reactor. The whole thing is the product of an obscenely high technology. It works, it's efficient and carbon-neutral, but really! What's wrong with planting a few more trees and letting nature give us some wood to burn?”
The stove had been expertly assembled by the end of this diatribe, and Eliza started trying to get the fuel to light. “And, to top it off, even with all that technology, you still can never get the horrible things to light with the sparker!” she added.
Trevor looked up and warned “Don't lean over it like that, Eliza, the flames will be high! And aim the sparker a little higher. You need to have the spark going through vapour and air, not just vapour.”
Moving the sparker worked. Flames shot up, higher than Eliza expected and she jumped back with a yelp. The flames were yellow to start with, and then once the gas generator had heated up and was turning the fuel to gas, the flames settled to their proper length and to a steady hissing blue.
“That thing's dangerous, Trevor. You should get it adjusted.”
“It's set up for very low temperatures up mountains, Eliza, sorry. It's barely freezing at the moment and we're not that high up. That makes the difference.”
“Thanks for the warning. I'd have been fried.”
“Having done it myself... you'd have singed your eyebrows, but the height you were, it almost certainly wouldn't have set your hair alight.”
“Well, urm, thanks for the reassurance. I like my eyebrows as they are.”
“I think we all do, Eliza.” Nigel said. “One bucket of water. Do we need to filter it if we're going to boil it?”
“Yes.” Trevor said, “There might be contaminants.”
“Here.” Bella said, handing Eliza the kettle “I've put a litre and a half of water in it — I brought a extra bottle from home.”
“Trevor, do you need a hand?” Eliza asked, seeing him peering into the back of the firebox.
“I don't think so, I'm just hoping that the kindling isn't going to burn out before the bigger wood starts.”
“Hear ye the wisdom of the ages: if in doubt, add more kindling before the first batch burns out.”
“No need. It's catching. Nice dry wood this.” he added more thin wood, and then larger ones until the firebox was almost full, but with gaps between the wood. He shut the door. As the instructions had said he should, once the bottom wood looked like it was properly alight, he adjusted the airflow control. As he had been loading the firebox, he was a little surprised to already hear a roaring sound from the flames. He'd read about 'the distinctive roar of the rocket stove' but had assumed that wouldn't start right away. After a while of watching the flames through the gaps between the wood, he realised that he'd been partially right; the sound steadily grew, especially once he'd put the airflow to “normal “.
Bella came and squatted beside him.
“You can certainly hear them, but you can't see much of the flames, can you?”
“You need to look between the wood. They're mostly going straight through that slot thing at the back. See it?”
“I do. Strange but pretty. And the hot plate is starting to warm up already.” she said, testing it with the back of her hand.
“That's good. Is it at about fifty centigrade yet?”
“More like thirty. Why?”
“When it gets there I need to fiddle with some more controls.”
“Is there a lot more fiddling?”
“Once I adjust those ones, not until the wood burns out or we decide we don't want so much instant heat any more, or we decide we want to cook something.”
She looked at the no-longer full basket of split wood. “I wonder how long it's going to take to get the whole cabin warm.”
“I don't know. Why?”
“We might need more wood cut.”
“We will eventually, anyway.” Trevor agreed. “Nigel, should we all take turns cutting wood while we heat up the cabin?”
“Good idea, but let's see how fast it's using it up, so we can try to be fair.”
“OK, I'll sit and watch the flames and drink my tea when it's done.” Trevor agreed.
“The fire's starting to get going really well now, isn't it?” Bella commented, mesmerised once more by the flickering patterns of flames.
“It is. Hey, that hotplate is pretty hot! Let's see how effective the so called immediate heat is.” He moved a control, directing the burnt gasses to a metal heat exchanger. The note of the fire was unchanged, but there was also the plink-plink sound of the metal heating up.
“Do you really think it needs that mesh in front of it?” Bella asked, curiously.
“Probably. I know it looks a bit like a normal radiator, but it's probably going to be well above boiling point.” Trevor pointed out.
“You mean it might get us nice and warm? That'd be good.”
“Aren't you warm already? It looks like a decent coat.”
“Well, my coat's OK, but it doesn't cover my fingers very well.” Bella pointed out.
“Mind if I join you?” Pris asked.
“Of course not!” Bella answered, then added quietly. “Are you OK, Pris?”
“I'm fine.... Just you know, being recognised, and then bugs probably mean organised crime, add in freezer-temperatures, and I'm getting flashbacks.” Pris said, not bothering to whisper.
“Well, it won't be cold much longer, and hopefully Dirk will eventually tell us there's nothing to worry about.” Bella said. “But even if he doesn't, then we're not leaving anyone to freeze.”
“I know, but that doesn't really help much.” Pris admitted.
“Then let's pray.” Trevor said.
Nigel joined them, and the four of them prayed for a successful trip, that they'd find out if there was anything to worry about and not be worried needlessly. They also prayed that Pris would be healed from the mental scars of her trauma, and that she'd sleep well.
Eliza watched from a distance as she poured the tea, and realised that, while she had watched people pretend to pray during reenactments, and she'd heard formal prayers at school, often repeated by rote, week in week out, she wasn't aware of hearing people pray real prayers they were making up on the spot before. She listened, feeling privileged, and a bit in awe. They obviously believed that God was going to answer. And she also remembered Karen's challenge earlier in the week. Why didn't she ask God about Darren? Or, for that matter, Nigel. Nigel seemed like a much better catch for her than optimistic-but-flawed Darren. What had Karen said? Did she want a Christian dropped into her lap who should reject her, a non-Christian she'd have to reject, once she believed, or was she going to accept God's reality without a miracle. And young May's 'You don't seem stupid.' had stung quite deeply. She wasn't stupid, but she was ignorant.
So, after those two conversations, she'd decided not to challenge God. It didn't seem sensible, she agreed, and she'd tried to read a bit of Bible, but it was hard-going. God certainly seemed more real to her now than he had ever before. And maybe, just maybe, she thought, looking across the room, God had taken her up on her challenge even if she hadn't really meant it. Nigel Brokennose, protector of the true King, not just of their mutual friend William! There was a man she could respect. Not 'that looks too hard' Darren.
She realised that, whatever happened, she'd made two decisions. She wasn't interested in Darren one bit, but she was interested in finding more about God, and this faith the four of them shared which let them talk to God with confidence that He was listening, and not care about who else might be.
She saw Dirk about to come in, through the back door, and opened it to him, motioning him to stay silent. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the impromptu prayer meeting, but said nothing.
She whispered “Bugs?”
In reply, Dirk pointed up to a plastic housing above the back door. There was a security camera there. Equally clearly, it was not aimed at the house, but at the wood-store. It made sense, she realised. The camera let the office see the level of wood in the store, and also deterred wandering back-packers from helping themselves for a camp-fire.
Eliza smiled, gave her brother a cup of tea, and took a tray to the others.
Wordlessly, she sank down beside them. This was where she wanted to be. Not just in the physical warmth of the fire, but in the emotional warmth of this little caring community.
Pris noticed Eliza's presence and moved to make room for her in the circle. Eliza was self-conscious, but moved into the gap. After sitting there, a while, it seemed very natural that she say something too.
“Help me to get to know you, God.”
Dirk drank his tea, and watched Eliza go, sit in the prayer time, and even pray herself. Eliza had always been the impulsive one. He liked to reflect more, to understand things before he committed himself. He knew he needed help with gossiping. It had become an addiction; maybe he should have been there too, but it seemed too soon for him, now. He wondered why Eliza had decided to find out more about God. Just a whim? No, it was more than than, he was sure. He was so proud of his little sister. The prayer time was over, he realised. Nigel was first to his feet, and helped Pris up. Dirk found himself feeling a pang of jealousy when Pris thanked Nigel. Now where did that come from? He ignored it and announced “I'd like to introduce you to the source of the signal I spotted, which turns out to have a perfectly acceptable source. Pris, would you like to come and see?”
She came, and looked where he'd pointed. “Watching the wood store? Thank you, Dirk. It's nice to know I'm over-reacting.”
“It does present us with an issue to address, though.”
“Yes?” Pris prompted.
“It's wireless, and not even very well encrypted. Pretty much anyone interested can pick it up and see who's staying here, and when they're here.”
Bella winced “If you're right about the encryption being so weak, then that's not very good news, no.”
“I know the brand. It's bottom of the range for the home market. They have a feature that if you want to you can configure them as a mesh network. Each camera only needs to be in range of a repeater station or another camera.”
“Ideal for a situation like this.” Pris agreed.
“Yes. But the encryption is really really badly implemented. They used it as an example of how not to do it when I was at the academy. If they'd done it properly, then there'd be a unique key for every camera, there'd be two main sorts of data from each camera. One would maintain the network: say I'm camera X and I've heard cameras Y, W and T, camera W can see the base station and cameras Q, R and T, and so on. The second would have an unencrypted header saying here's a pile of encrypted data and it needs to get to the base station.
“That's the normal way to do it. They decided it was better to encrypt the network maintenance too, which isn't so silly; it stops an attacker claiming to be the base station and confusing the network. Until you realise that that means the cameras need to decrypt the network data, so they need some kind of shared key. You can do that, but it's extra hassle. So, the designers decided that setting a unique key for every camera and a shared key was far too much work for the poor home owner, and so there's a shared key for all the cameras and that's it. Which then means that every camera can read every picture on the network.”
“OK, I see that the security level is going down. But you said almost anyone could break it.” Pris said. “I still see some cryptanalysis being needed.”
“I haven't got to the best bit yet. How do you think you add a new camera to the network and tell it what the key is?”
“Plug it's datacrystal into the base station's programming port?” Pris suggested.
“That would have worked. But then some user might drop their datacrystal and their camera would be dead. They didn't go that way.”
“Some sort of programming chip?” Bella asked.
“'Oh dear, we need to add a new camera to our system but we've lost the programming chip, can you send us a new one please?' My guess is that customer services rejected that idea.” Pris offered.
“I agree.” Dirk said. “No, what they did was give the camera a little button on the back, and if you put a new camera near to an old one, or next to the base station, and press the button, then it sends out a little message saying 'Hello, I'm new here, can I play too?' and if you press the same button on the old camera or base station within a few minutes then it says 'Yes, OK. Here's the key.'”
“You're joking!” Pris said, shaking her head, “It'd be child's play to come up with a device that pretends to be a camera to get the key!”
“No joke. Send the right signal when you've got physical access to the little button on the back of any of the cameras, and it gives you the encryption key for full access. But you think that's the best bit, don't you?”
“It's not?” Pris asked.
“No. The best bit is that their marketing department decided this was too useful a feature for just the cameras, and their users might want to check their cameras with their wrist unit. So you don't need any special skills at all. They give the application away for free.”
“The net result being that if you're near the base station, your wrist unit can see what's on every camera?” Pris asked.
“And if you're not near the station then you can either put it in passive mode and accept that you get less pictures or you can ask the near-by cameras to forward the whole set to you.”
Bella drew her breath in and said “Let me check if I understand you, Dirk. Let's say that some bored thirteen year-old with the application on their wrist unit decided to be a bit nosey. At some point they got on a chair, press the magic button on the camera at their cabin and then they see a certain familiar face on their screen collecting some firewood. They can then wander down to the office, and then follow the picture stream straight to the right cabin to ask for an autograph?”
“Yes, except that the application also lets you see the topology of the network, so they probably don't even need to go all the way in to the office and back out.” Dirk answered.
Pris concluded “So... item two in our report is that to improve our friends' security, we need to make sure that we disable our friends' camera, disable those buttons, or replace the camera network?”
“I think so, yes.” Dirk said. “Except that idea one is only any good if they never show up on anyone else's camera, and idea two is probably easily circumvented by a paper-clip.”
“OK. We'll note that in our recommendation.” Nigel agreed.
“I actually suggest item two in our report says that the site-manager seems knowledgeable and conscientious, but obviously has little control of the maintenance budget.” Eliza suggested, “or, to put it another way, if some department ends up buying up the site then he should be kept on.”
“OK. I don't think that's likely though. I mean, there's supposed to be a spending freeze on, no matter how good a case we could make for this place as a training site. And I'm not sure we could, really.” Nigel pointed out.
“Me neither.” Eliza agreed.
“But maybe someone knows a multi-millionaire, so it's still worth putting in. I'm with Eliza.” Bella said.
“Bella, technically we do know one. Remember?” Pris asked.
“We do?”
“Yes. You've spoken to her when I was around.”
“I'm thinking... I'm thinking...”
“You met her in a room near a helicopter pad.”
“Really? Where was that?” Bella asked, now really confused.
“I give up, I'm out of innocuous clues! No I'm not. You dislocated the shoulder of a thug, just because he wanted to knife you, and there wasn't a wallpaper department.”
“Oh, there! Really? Multi-millionairess? Surely not...no, it can't be. Who?”
“Bella, you've really no idea?” Pris asked.
“No.” Bella said. Surely it couldn't be Hannah. She was sure it wasn't Karen, and it certainly wasn't Eliza. Teresa? Kate? Sarah had inherited the house, where Karen lived, sure, but it wasn't worth millions, and surely if she had millions there wouldn't have been bare spots in the carpet.
“Oh well. I guess it means you don't have a need to know.”
“I really can't think of anyone there I'd think of as having a even almost a millionaire lifestyle.”
“Who said anything about lifestyle? She's not old enough to control the trust fund yet.”
“Oh. All right, I think I know who then. Does that get us anywhere?”
“Not really. She almost certainly wouldn't be interested in persuading the trustees to invest here, if they're persuadable.”
“She might, though.” Bella pointed out “And there isn't really much time.”
“That's true. So, when do you want to call her? You know her best.”
“Except that small detail, yes.”
“I guess it is a small detail to her.”
“Do you have any idea who they're talking about?” Eliza asked Nigel.
“No. I'd presume that's the whole point.” he replied.
“Pris, will you come out of other's earshot before I make a fool of myself?”
“Of course.” Pris agreed. They went into the furthest bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
“Sarah?” Bella whispered.
“Yes.” Pris confirmed.
“Right. My thought is we haven't been here long enough yet, but assuming we're going on a walk around the area this afternoon, then I'll float the idea to her once I've some more idea of what we're talking about. OK?”
“OK by me. I'd hate to tell her the place is actually falling apart after we ask her to invest in it.” Pris agreed.
“Right, now let's go back, it's cold in here.” Bella suggested.
“I agree. I guess that stove is working.”
“Do we leave the doors open so that the whole cabin warms up, or do we say that we need some more concentrated warmth first?”
“I think concentrated heat in the kitchen and the bathroom, until we can take our coats off.”
“Agreed. Let's get our priorities right!” Bella shivered at the thought of siting on an ice-cold toilet seat. “That reminds me. How come the toilet isn't frozen solid?”
“Do you know it isn't?” Pris asked.
“Yuck. Let's send one of the men to investigate.” Bella suggested, as they went back to the kitchen area.
“Deal!”
“What are we investigating?” asked Dirk.
“If the toilet is frozen, and if not, why not.”
“The answer should be an ultra-low water flush, combined with an automatic tank drain and antifreeze dispenser system which operates as the temperature falls past four degrees.” Trevor said, having been curious himself.
“So if it all worked properly, there's no water to flush with, but no ice either?” Nigel asked.
“Exactly.”
“Pris and I were just thinking that heating this room and the bathroom should be our priority.” Bella reported.
“Agreed!” Eliza said. “When does the heater start working.”
“It is, you try visiting the far bedroom.” Pris reported.
“I'll take your word for it.”
“Do we need to refill the firebox yet?” Dirk asked.
“Not yet.” Trevor reported. “Still plenty of unburnt wood in there. What's the plan about the millionairess?”
“First, you'd need to convince me that this place, run properly, with all the right investments, proper maintenance and so on will still make a decent return on investment. Then, you need to give me the data so that I can pass it on, and then someone needs to work out how to persuade the present owners they should relinquish control.”
“We're certain that they should?” Dirk asked.
“Not a hundred percent, no. But you've told us the cameras are a disaster, and the maintenance on the stoves is a problem. That's actually the one that worries me about the present owners. They decided to cut corners which shouldn't be cut.”
“Sufficient for legal proceedings?” Pris asked.
“Probably not, until there's a real accident, or we could prove deliberate negligence.” Dirk said.
“It seems like a massive investment for that, surely. I mean, the land must be worth tens of hundreds of millions in itself!” Eliza pointed out.
“Oh, they don't own the land. The cabins are on it as part of a leasing arrangement.” Trevor answered.
“Oh. So what does the company actually own?”
“An exclusivity contract with the land-owner, fifty seven scattered cabins of various sizes, with fittings, etc. the office and the vehicles.”
“OK. And while the cabin is nice, it's not going to be that valuable, without the view which they don't own.”
“No. Not even with the nice stove. The book value is two million, I think.” Trevor said.
“Trevor, I don't suppose you've got any idea about what the maintenance cost on this stove is, compared to its initial cost?” Bella asked.
“I can look it up. This is roughly the top of the line one they offer, you realise.”
“I'm not surprised.”
“Hmm. Roughly speaking I'd say they've halved the maintenance on the stove, and the manufacturer says on this one that maintenance is about five percent of purchase price.”
“So, by skimping on maintenance they're risking damaging something for a fortieth of its value, and risking injury as well? The administrator's not in it for the long term, are they?”
“I guess not, no. But there's lots of fixed costs, and swapping the maintenance contract probably seemed like the easiest way of saving some cash. And the administrator might think that the investors will sack him or her if they don't get their five percent return on investment.”
“The administrator does the books?” Bella asked.
“No, that's the accountant.” Trevor said.
“Handles the bookings?” She prompted.
“All by computer.”
“So, what does the administrator actually do?” Bella asked.
“From what I can see, he commissions advertising, authorises expenditure, and writes glowing reports on what he's done for the investors, makes sure that the site rental — which takes by far the biggest chunk of the income, by the way, gets paid, and takes home a nice salary. But he probably does other things too.”
“I see. So, if the reason that we're suggesting it gets new ownership is to change his policy, he might not want to sell.”
“It all depends. He might be a nice guy with nasty co-investors, or he might be a nasty himself.” Pris said. “It's quite simple, really. We've no idea about any of this. We don't even know who owns the land and whether they'd be interested in investing in a stake in the company.”
“I saw the owner, funny name. Urm... here we are. Carbon-carbon land management, looking that up, urm... it's part of the Diamond division of GemSmith holdings.” Trevor said.
Bella looked at Pris, who shrugged and asked “I don't think we need to dig any further. Really, it's beyond our remit to solve the problems. We're just here to see if there are any.”
“Are we supposed to be submitting daily progress reports?” Bella asked Nigel.
“Not individually. But as group organiser I was told that I should make sure Maria gets at least one report by nine every night on what we've found out, more if anything is seriously worrying. Like those cameras.”
“I think I want to look around our immediate area.” Bella said. “Anyone else coming?”
“I'd love to, but someone should watch the fire.” Trevor said.
“I'll do that.” Nigel offered. “I might as well start on my report.”
“OK. The recommended way of re-loading it is to wait until you can push the burning embers to the back third, but not so far they block that slot, and then pile the firebox high, like I did the first time.”
“What's wrong with just filling it now?”
“They like the wood to burn at one end and heat through slowly, like a matchstick, rather than getting hot all in one go and making lots of smoke.”
“OK. I'll try. Have a nice walk.”
“We'll try.” Bella said. “Just yell if you want us, I doubt we're going far. Come on, Fido.”
Fido ignored her, and chewed his bone.
“We don't need to take him.” Trevor said.
“Yes we do.” Bella disagreed.
“OK. Fido, Bella's got some brown bread for you.” Trevor said, giving her some, and putting Fido's lead on. Fido ignored what was happening to his collar.
“Fido, if you don't get up this instant, I'm going to take your bone away.” Bella threatened. “Come on, dog! Walk time.” Fido kept on chewing.
“This could be interesting.” commented Eliza.
“No contest.” Bella said. She pushed his paw off the top of the bone with one foot, and pushed the bone to the ground. Fido got up, so his jaw wasn't pinned to the ground, and just kept gnawing. So she dropped three bits of bread on the floor, just in front of Fido's nose, each one a bit further from the bone. Fido snapped up the bread in three bites, and then he went back to the bone, only to find it wasn't there. Bella had kicked it away under the table.
“Told you, doggie. You lost it. Come on, walk time! You can have your bone later.”
Deprived of his bone, Fido looked around for it and found that he was being pulled towards the door by Bella. Maybe his bone was that way?
“Well done. But why do we need Fido?” Trevor asked.
“So he doesn't notice his pride and joy being put outside. It's starting to smell.”
“Oh, is that what it is?” Pris asked. “I wondered.”
“Yes. And while I admit responsibility for creating the problem, I'm not going to share the cabin with a stinky bone. Sorry, Trevor.”
“That's fine Bella. So you take him out the front and I'll take it out the back way?”
“Exactly. I'll meet you out front.”
Fido didn't find his bone just outside the door, so he decided he wanted to go back inside to look for it. Bella wasn't going to put up with that though. “Hey, Fido! Outside!” he looked at her, hurt. Why was she dragging him outside if his bone wasn't there? “Come on Fido. We're going for a walk!”
Now that word made sense. Of course he wanted to go for a walk. Maybe he'd find something to chase, or a stick. He started sniffing around.
“Trevor?” Bella asked, when he arrived “Do you think Fido's got a one-track mind?”
“Why?”
“Because as soon as I said walk out here, he got the message, but when we were in there, well, you saw him. It's a bit like he can't chew and listen at the same time.”
“Well, he is male.” Trevor said with a laugh.
“Good point.”
“So. is it going to work?”
“What, this week?”
“Yes.”
“In what sense? Checking out the place?”
“That too, I suppose.” he smiled.
“Sorry, what senses are we talking about?”
He reached for her hand. [My brother's ideal woman, for instance.]
[Oooh, yes. What was the list again?]
[Christian, shorter than him, but not by much. Dark hair, in security, high clearance but not too high. And, though he didn't say it, some sign interest in him, or he'll not pursue her.]
[So two dark haired women, both pretty, younger than him, Eliza is, not that she's a Christian yet, but she's obviously seeking, so she might not quite be out of the running. What does too high mean? Pris is one alpha. I'm not sure what level Eliza is.]
[I don't know what 'not too high' means. I think he came up with it before he started in Royal protection. To me, all it means is he doesn't want secrets.]
[Eliza's pretty dazzling at the moment, isn't she?]
[I'm biased towards you, but yes. I think that Eliza is interested in him because of his sword-swinging past. But I'm not sure that's still something in his future. If she finds that out, she'll probably lose interest.]
[But I think his brain might be turned off by her dazzle. I also think Pris looks like she needs a protector at the moment, Nigel isn't noticing and Dirk wants the job.]
[Really? Where does that leave Nigel then?]
[Depends how many happy endings we want, really. I mean... what are the chances that both siblings turn to God and catch some of Security's highest flyers? Which would probably mean that either Eliza decides to pack up being princess, or Nigel decides to make a bid for the crown of wonderland so he gets interested again. And also,] quickly Bella hid her thoughts. “and also it depends on something I shouldn't talk about.”
“Oh. OK. Something good?”
“Something about which I see some disappointment whichever way it turns out, and I'm not going to give you any clues. What do you think of the views?”
They'd reached a clearing in the woods, and found there was a seat overlooking the valley below them. Snow and pine-trees filled most of their view, but there was a small river winding along the bottom. Fido still without a stick, lay down and moped.
“They're like you, and your name, beautiful.”
“Not like me, icy-cold and almost monochrome?” She retorted, in a surge of fury.
“Bella!”
“Sorry, but... you know, I got really fed up with teenage idiots grabbing my hand and asking me out by saying I lived up to my name. Most of them were thinking of my breasts at the time.”
“Sorry, Bella. I'll try not to say it again.”
“Good.” she said. In a tone which made it clear that it wasn't good enough.
“I'm sorry. I've ruined our walk, haven't I?”
“No, I have.” her mood swinging to regret “I should have warned you that mentioning what my name means is about as welcome as a punch in the guts.”
“I have a silly idea.” he said, hiding his thoughts as he crouched to the snow-covered ground.
“What's that?”
“Stress relief.” he said, and presented her with a hastily made snowball. “A gift, my beloved. Plus, let it not be ever said that I launched an attack on an unarmed opponent.”
“Who said I was an opponent?” Bella asked, weighing the snowball in her hand.
“Depends what you want to do with that snowball.”
“Are you challenging me to a snowball fight?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you want one or not, or whether you'd rather just throw it for Fido to chase.”
“Will he chase it?”
“Depends on his mood. So you might just be wasting a snowball.”
“We wouldn't want that, would we?” Bella asked, feeling her mood lightening.
“Snowballs are a scarce resource.” he pointed out.
“Especially in summer.” she agreed, looking at the pristine snow that surrounded them, and having some ideas of her own.
“So, O woman I love. What are you going to do?”
“This.” She didn't throw it, but since he was still within reach she grabbed him in a hug and tried to insert it into his neck. It didn't get past his scarf “That's not very sporting, Bella.” he said, conversationally.
“I notice you're not resisting.”
“No.”
“Why not? You're taking all the fun out of it.”
“Sorry I didn't want to hurt you but I did want to do this.” He said, and kissed her. Then he added, “and I wanted to do this, too.” The second 'this' being to carefully put his snow-filled hand through her hair and straight on to the back of her neck. She let out a little scream of shock, “you treacherous...” and let him go to bat the snow out of her hair.
“You've got some more on the left.” he said, helpfully, retreating to a safer distance.
“Now you really suffer!”
“Bella, I'd just like to point something out to you.”
“Yes?”
“I'm bigger than you, possibly stronger than you and possibly sneakier than you.”
“You mean that I should quit now?”
“No, I mean that maybe you shouldn't try something like last time.”
“I see. Is that a threat?”
“No, just advice from someone who loves you.”
“You said that before and gave me a neck full of snow.”
“Just like you wanted to give me.” he pointed out, reasonably.
“Thats true. So what do you suggest?”
“A fair snowball fight?”
“All right.” She agreed, “Now define fair.”
“No aiming at heads, no trying to stuff snowballs into people's clothes.”
“Oh all right.” she agreed, grudgingly.
“And afterwards, we declare peace and mean it.” He got a snowball in response to that, right in the chest. Then another one.
“Bella?” he started slowly circling towards the deeper snow.
“Yes, Trevor?” Another snowball, same target.
“Have we started yet?”
“What do you think?” Another snowball, to the stomach.
“I just wondered.” He reached the deep snow. And started his own attack.
He could throw bigger snowballs, with more force, but she had far better accuracy, so while she aimed at his upper body, he deliberatly aimed at her legs and stomach, just in case he went high. Frequently he missed her all together. After a while he admitted defeat.
“Bella, I give up!”
“Why?”
“Because every snowball you throw, hits.”
“That's the aim, isn't it?”
“Yes. You're better at this than me.”
“I thought you were trying to avoid hitting me.”
“I was trying to avoid hitting your face.”
“Not my breasts then?” she asked. Noticing that he'd not scored one shot there.
“Bella, are we at peace?”
“Yes. Peace.”
“I'd like to ask you something. Shall we sit on the bench?”
“OK. Thank you, Trevor. It did help.”
“I'm glad.” he said, brushing the snow off himself.
“So, what's the question?”
“I don't know if I should ask it.”
“Go on!”
He took her hand [It seems to me that you're rather self-conscious about your breasts.]
[What breasts? I'm practically flat.] she said.
[Don't exaggerate.]
[I'm not exaggerating.]
[Then what was I very aware of noticing when we embraced on Friday? Ribs aren't that soft. And don't say it was your coat, you didn't have one on.]
[You don't mind? I'd thought of getting implants.]
[Bella!]
[What?]
[Stop it. I don't have any problems with the way God made you.]
[You haven't seen the reality.]
[No. And that's a good thing, isn't it? Not knowing all the details until the appropriate time?]
[I've not been a Christian for very long, Trevor. Some of my attitudes need correcting.]
[Talking about attitudes that need correcting, I'm curious. Tell me not to be. What were the teenagers thinking about your chest?]
[How big they were really, how many dates it would take before I'd let them have a fondle, if they'd grow more, what they...]
[{Embarrasment} Stop! I'm sorry I asked.]
[Really?]
[Yes. I shouldn't have asked. I guess I was wondering if they'd made you feel self-conscious about them.]
[Well, I guess it made me realise how conscious the average male is of them.]
[Quite conscious, yes.]
[You're different, though.]
[Not significantly. But there's such a thing as self-control, you know?]
[So, you're not going to fantasize about my body?]
[I'll try not to. I don't want impure thoughts ruling my mind. So can we drop the subject?]
[You brought it up.] Bella pointed out, reasonably.
[I know. Never again.]
[Never?]
[Well, not until the right time.]
[You think there will be a right time?]
[I hope so.] Trevor said, trying hard not to pass on how strongly he felt about her.
[That's good. I do too.]
“Shall we head back? I don't want feedback.”
“I agree. But one hug first, please? Hugs are important to me.”
“Of course, Bella! But I'll stay hidden.”
“Good plan. Otherwise you might find out things you shouldn't.” Like, she thought, how much she regretted vetoing marriage before the impact.
“I love you, Bella Monroe.”
“I love you too. Trevor”
Bella got her hug.