He Who Dares: Book Three by Rob Buckman Page B

ground we won’t have any option but to surrender.” John nodded.
    “A few ‘messages from god’ in strategic places, or a city or two and we’d have to give up.”
    “I sometimes wish we’d never make that damn stuff a secret. Maybe if everyone knew how to make Cg material, we wouldn’t be in the mess we are now.” The king muttered.
    “True, but there it is. We live with what we’ve got, and surrender and make the best deal we can with the Sirriens.”
    “That’s of course, unless that bloody pig of a man, the Prime Minister hasn’t already made a deal with the bastards.”
    “That’s a good bet.” John added, moodily. “So, what do you want me to do? Kill the stupid ass?”
    “Good god, no!” The King smiled, betting with himself that John Cromwell would have no compunction about doing just that, and damn the consequences. “I was thinking that there are a few rather important items and documents I don’t want the Sirriens to get their grubby hands on.”
    “I follow so far, Richard.”
    “My royal command is that you take them and go along to keep them safe.” John Cromwell shot to his feet and stomped back and forth the length of the steam room, for once scowling at his King.
    He stopped several times and looked at his monarch and friend, even opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and stomped back and forth again. The King wiped his sweaty face with a towel and waited patiently for John to reach the end of his scheming to try and figure out a way to disobey him.
    “Damn you to hell, Richard. Why did you have to make it…” He couldn’t finish. “Yes, your Majesty. I will obey your royal command.” As he sat down beside him again, the King reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
    “The body I want you to bury is yours. I’m going to give you a very nice private funeral. Lots of flowers and all that.”
    “What! I mean, pardon?”
    “Well, think about it. If you are nicely dead, no one will be looking for you, especially any Sirrien spies lurking about in the bushes.” He smiled, seeing the light dawn in John Cromwell’s eyes.
    “Of course. Out of sight, out of mind. Um… by the way, how am I going to die? I’d rather do it with a little dignity, or better still heroically?” The King chuckled and shook his head.
    “Sorry, no, you’ll break your neck going down the stairs to the wine cellar.” He laughed.
    “Oh, thanks. The drunken snot slipped and broke his neck while going for another bottle of bloody wine.”
    “Thought you’d thank me. I mean, everyone knows what a secret drunk you are.”
    “Har! Adding insult to injury before I’m decently buried, are we?”
    The King chuckled again, “I take it you have an identity you haven’t used yet?”
    “Several.”
    “Good. As soon as we have arranged things, and your untimely passing is announced, I expect you to be on your way to the stars.”
    “And my ultimate destination being?” John queried with a raised eyebrow.
    “Avalon.”
    “Avalon? Why there?”
    “Many reasons, the first being that they are the only ones I trust with what I’m sending. It could also be the center of a new beginning.” John gave him an appraising look.
    “You think they have the wherewithal to fight the Sirriens or hold off an invasion fleet?”
    “John, you know as well as I do that they are probably the only ones that can.”
    John nodded. “Yes, damn difficult to get across the Rift . Not impossible if you are willing to take the losses, but what then?”
    “Oh, they have more than enough to handle anything that gets into Avalon-Christchurch space.” John Cromwell thought he knew all the secrets, but it was clear that the King knew a few that he didn’t. “It’s all a matter of timing and whether we’ve already left it too late.” On that ominous note, they left to take a shower and dress for the King’s normal daily round of meetings.
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE:
     
    It was with a certain degree of