Spectred Isle (Green Men #1)(20)

“I will make those.”

“And if you step in front of an omnibus tomorrow?” Mr. Delingpole asked swiftly. “We no longer have the luxury of the old ways.”

“Captain Barnaby and Mr. Isaacs are walking proof of that,” Bracknell put in. “They don’t have your generations of knowledge and tradition, and just look at them. And if it comes to that, I’m sorry to observe that you no longer have those generations. We all need to pull together now, Glyde, just as we did in the War.”

“Ah, the War,” Randolph said. “Jolly good. Remind me what regiment you served in.”

“You well know that I was over age.”

“So was Simon Feximal, by more than a decade,” Sam said from behind him. “That didn’t stop Whitehall forcing him to France, to pull together while people like you stayed at home.”

“My father was sixty, and volunteered,” Randolph added. “We’re acquainted with sacrifice for the common good in this house. You may spare us your lectures.”

“I don’t agree, I’m afraid.” Mr. Delingpole was thin-lipped. “It is very appealing to dismiss the importance of organisation and planning in favour of the individual hero, but it is also, if I may say so, fantastical, and rather childish. The country has limited resources to face serious threats. We as a nation need to understand those threats and use our resources wisely. How much work is duplicated? How much potentially vital information goes unshared? How much more efficiently could you do your duty with proper support? Mr. Caldwell, you submitted to Navy discipline in the war; do you believe your battle cruiser could have done its duty with no captain and every man making his own judgement of what was best to do?”

“Do you know how many men on my ship died?” Sam demanded. “Are you using the War as an argument for government organisation? Have you any shame?”

“Let’s not get bogged down in the trenches of the argument,” Randolph said. “The point isn’t whether you would organise well or badly, is it, Mr. Delingpole? The point is that you are offering support and structure and simplicity and all these wonderful ways of taking work and responsibility off our shoulders in exchange for us accepting your authority. That’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? Bringing us under central command. You don’t want arcanists and occultists carrying on in our several ways. You want us reporting to you, and believing we ought to report to you, because it’s more efficient, more practical, more modern.”

“And it is all those things.”

“It may be,” Randolph said. “Amazingly, I don’t consider efficiency the sole and only good.”

“And we can spot a power grab when one is being attempted under our eyes,” Sam added. “Whitehall’s tried to bring occultists into line before. Last time, someone ended up being eaten by eels.”

“Is that true? I always thought it was a pleasant fantasy. How satisfying,” Randolph said. “Let’s be clear, Mr. Delingpole. I’m sure you’d be terribly efficient, and organise things to dedicate our resources to the benefit of the nation. And I know that’s very tempting for people like Bracknell here, who want nothing more than to believe in a strong man at the top and a steady hand at the tiller, and to have someone else be responsible for it all. But I don’t believe in your strong men, I don’t trust your hands, I take my own responsibility, and I will not obey orders that run counter to my judgement. I have done that in the past. I won’t do it again.”

“We have not given you any orders that would clash with your judgement,” Mr. Delingpole said.

Randolph smiled at him, unpleasantly. “You will, Oscar. You will.”

“What? My name is Horatio.”

“It would be. Is there anything else we can help you with before you leave?”

“This won’t do.” Bracknell was red in the face. “You are being obstinate and obstructive and irresponsible. We need people like you on side. Why, we need you on the secretarial committee. You talk of taking orders: we want you giving them. You’re a Glyde: every occultist in the country will accept your authority. You have a chance to direct this department and shape its policy. Isn’t that right, Mr. Delingpole?”

“Quite right,” Mr. Delingpole said without enthusiasm.

“God help the department,” Sam said. “And what unique and singular blessing is it that I could bring to Whitehall, as if I didn’t know?”

“Indeed,” Randolph agreed. “Let’s not play the fool. You want my name, and Jo Caldwell’s gifts, and Captain Barnaby and Mr. Isaacs as weapons. You may not have any of them. And don’t try to bribe me with your penny-ante offices again or I will take it poorly.”

Bracknell pointed a finger at Randolph. It shook slightly. “Are you aware of the consequences of your defiance?”

“Is that intended to intimidate me?”

“I’m warning you,” Bracknell said. “We can all see what’s going on. We all see who’s doing his bit, and who isn’t, and we’ll all know who to blame when things go wrong, as they will if you aren’t prepared to work in harness like a sensible man. Your arrogance will be your downfall, Glyde. You were told that.”

“No, he was told to beware of arrogance,” Sam said. “And I’m looking at a dollop of it right here if you think you know more or better than Randolph. I’ve had enough of this conversation. Get out of my house.”