Beautiful Blood

Rosacher started to respond angrily, to say that this was the same firm who had handled his agreement with the Church, and to say further that the Church must have grown impatient; but caution threw up a flag. Had Ludie revealed the existence of the agreement to Breque? It was not inconceivable. If so, how did this play into Breque’s visit? The Church was a patient monster—they had less than ten years left to wait and it would have taken an extreme provocation for them to break the agreement. While it was possible that Ludie had wanted to thumb her nose at the agreement between Rosacher and the Church by making such a will, it was highly unlikely that the firm that had drafted the agreement would have written such a will. All this led him to suspect that Breque was dissembling in some fashion. He felt suddenly heavy of limb and heart, a physical reaction not only to the news of Ludie’s death, but to the realization that he was being pulled back into the drug business.

“The truth,” he said. “Why have you come here today? What do you want?”

“Ludie died without revealing the process by which the blood is refined.” Breque stretched out a leg and wiggled his foot, as if working out a kink. “We have enough mab on hand to satisfy our customers for two weeks or thereabouts. I need your assistance in making more.”

That Ludie had kept the process—or rather the lack thereof—secret surprised Rosacher and muddied the waters further; but it had no bearing on what he needed to do to ensure his survival. He pretended to mull over the question and finally said, “I’ll make more of the drug for you, but I have conditions.”

Breque nodded. “I assumed as much. Proceed.”

“Firstly, I want to see Ludie’s will. Secondly, I am to be left alone in the treatment room. Under no circumstances will you or any of your agents seek to spy on me. If you violate this article of our pact, I will walk away and leave you to deal with thousands of unhappy addicts.”

Breque started to speak, but Rosacher waved him to silence and continued: “Any attempt to extract information regarding the process by chicanery or force will set in motion certain mechanisms that will destroy the business. These mechanisms have been in place since the beginning of our relationship, and I have complete confidence in their efficacy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course,” said Breque. “But I hope…”

“Thirdly, I believe your expansionist policies imperil the business. Therefore I wish to be consulted on all matters of foreign policy, particularly those relating to your attempts at expansion, whether in Temalagua or elsewhere. Should you fail to convince me of the rightness of your course and, despite this, continue along it, I will cease assisting you in the production of mab.”

Incredulous, Breque said, “You’re asking for a veto over any decision I make?”

“As they relate to foreign policy, yes. I’m assuming that you intend to expand in more than one direction and that you will need money to prosecute these conflicts. A great deal of money. I would be a fool not to want a voice in these decisions. I have a right to safeguard my investment.”

“You leave me little choice,” said Breque after a moment.

“Oh, you have options, but only one of them is worth your attention: the option of persuading me that you are choosing a direction that promises success. I have nothing against pursuing an expansionist foreign policy; however, I demand that it be done judiciously.”

“You’ve made me wealthy…and powerful as well.” Breque smiled, as though attempting to lighten the impact of what he said next. “I’ve little to entertain myself apart from dabbling in regional politics. A prudent soul might suggest that by thwarting me you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“If you’re a fool, then you are correct—I am. But I don’t believe you’re a fool.” Rosacher paused to allow a response. Breque blew out air through his lips, making a perturbed noise.

“One last thing,” Rosacher said. “I imagine you must have operatives in places such as Alta Miron and Mospiel, men and women capable of clandestine investigations.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll need two of them for a period of…let’s say three months. That should do the job. Preferably a man and a woman. I have no desire to conscript your best people, but I would welcome competence.”

“How do you intend to use them?”

“You’re an intelligent man, Jean-Daniel. Surely you can hazard a guess?”

“I’d say you’re planning to look into Ludie’s death. But why not use your own operatives?”

“I have no operatives, merely eyes and ears on the street. Your people are bound to be more efficient than anyone in my employ.”