He Who Dares: Book Three by Rob Buckman

bosses up there in Whitehall would go, or how deep they would dig. Come to that, he didn’t even know who ran the Secret Service now. Maybe it was time for the Sirrien agents to take a more active role, and get rid of a few people permanently.
     
    *  *  *  *  *  *
    As John Cromwell stopped before entering the steam room, much as he’d done a hundred times before, and checked the security monitor before entering. Even with advances in electronics, today’s latest models couldn’t stand up long in the constant high heat, humidity and the water soaked environment of a steam sauna. Wearing nothing but a cotton singlet, shorts and flip-flops, he looked nothing like his usual urbane self. Upon entering, he found the King taking his ease on the wooden bench on the second tier. Even to his eye, as calm looking as the King was, he could see the stress lines on his face. Particularly around the eyes and mouth. At seventy-two years old, the King was a powerfully built man, vigorous, healthy with very little fat or sagging skin prevalent in older men.
    “All clear, your Majesty.” The King nodded and patted the bench beside him. He was similarly dressed in a cotton singlet and white shorts.
    This room was about as safe and bug free as any room in Windsor Castle could be. Situated as it was under the castle itself, they were surrounded by the solid brick and stone of the original foundations that dated back to the extensive rebuilding of Windsor between 1165 and 1179. John Cromwell had himself installed a bug detector and dampening field adding an additional layer of security to its natural defenses. With all the lights in the green, the possibility of anyone listening in or video spying on them was minimal. Even the clothes they were wearing were subject to a microwave treatment before they put them on ensuring they didn’t inadvertently bring something in with them. The King smiled at his friend.
    “When we first met, John, before you found out who I was, did you ever imagine you’d end up in a place like this?”
    “You mean an overly hot, steamy room wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a singlet?” He chuckled, but knew what the King meant.
    “Funny how life can take you by surprise isn’t it.” The King murmured.
    John Cromwell smiled. “Yes, I never imagined I’d end up here. I remember the first time I met you, a 10-year-old, scared, skinny lad who didn’t seem to know where he was or what he was supposed to be doing.” John sighed, thinking back to those happier days as schoolboys. The only thing they’d had to worry about then was passing their exams and not getting caught sneaking out of school to go play in the woods.
    “Easier times, then, John.” John nodded.
    “Simpler times as well, I think, before the world went to hell in a hand basket.”
    “Yes, once we got out of our home system, it was inevitable each country would grab as much real estate as they could.”
    “Not to mention the corporations.” John added with a sigh.
    “Not much we could do, really. We couldn’t police all of human space, no matter how big our navy was.”
    “I hate the idea that slavery came back so easily.” John grumbled.
    “Not that they call it that. Migrant works is the euphemism they use, slavery in all but name.”
    “I hate to imagine the hell hole those industrial planets have become.”
    “We are as much to blame as the corporations, John. The multi-stellar corporations here import all the ship parts, fusion reactors, engines, and what have you, and install them in the ships they build.”
    “Not to mention the food and luxury good they import.”
    “I wonder if Michael Gray’s idea of the crown taking more control of the government might not be such a bad idea. At least we could draft bills to outlaw any kind of servitude.”
    “Did we ever get rid of slavery? We now call it human trafficking, as if that’s a better turn for forcing people into a miserable existence.”
    “True, John.