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-Here on loan from the Board and still very anxious to see what these people are all about. I’m almost certain the Viceroy’s going to have me killed if I bother him any longer, but fortunately for me I’m indispensable to HM. No one calls him Emperor here, but they know the consequences of snubbing a royal friend and there’s good reason for that. GG is very careful not to mention it, but his pay’s been cut significantly, and he isn’t going to touch the office any time soon. In any case, Calcutta’s been an awful bore, and I don’t want you worried for me!

I quickly signed the letter and made my way down the building to the car. It was a run down, half dead mongrel of a car, and the engine whined like a beggar on the street, but HMG paid for it, and I’d have been damned if I spend a single penny more than I had to. Plus I didn’t have to drive the damned thing and that made things a hell of a lot more tolerable.

”Good evening, Mahesh”

“Good evening sir. Where to?”

“Fort William. Juldee.”

Mahesh was a dependable fellow and he knew where to stomp on the car to make it run. Plus he was a soldier too, and one of those who wouldn’t complain about not getting paid enough and I wasn’t ready to pay him anymore than I had to. Besides that, he kept great company since he only spoke when spoken to. All in all, the best HMG could have ever bought!

He winded down the streets of Calcutta with ferocity and made his way just up until the gateway to the fort.

The checkpoint was blocked off by several soldiers and one of them approached the car.

“No Hindoos allowed. Please leave the vehicle and bring the appropriate papers with you.”

I waved Mahesh away and the soldier escorted me through- the woman wore a modified version of the blues and blacks with the imperial star on it, her march betraying a pomposity that seemed unearned. That meant she was new. Once one of Gandy’s boys blows up the entrance again, she’d learn.

I was led deep into the fort; the sea of armed guards became a sea of servants, skin merging from white to black, until finally, the trek was over and I was face to face with the Company’s big man on campus, the Viceroy himself.

He thought himself a lion, but he was more peacock: the man couldn’t not wear the full regalia of office. Even Curzon would have blushed.

He was in conversation with Monsieur Gausse, Pondichéry’s man in Calcutta. The Frenchies were probably begging for guns again.

I tried to listen in. Obviously. Something about guns I’m sure. Or maybe Gandy started making the frogs croak. I’d like to think an army of tigers were threatening the gates of the French HQ,

...but then again, where would our quality maids come from in this godforsaken landmass?

Finally, our galumping peacock turned to me. If he strutted around like a flightless bird, he spoke with the authority of old Bertie himself.

I managed to get the title out without laughing too much: “Your Excellency! The Board sends their regards!”

“It would be better if they had sent more guns instead- more and more baboos and fukeers keep attacking our police stations and courts- Gandy’s been getting uppity.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not so easy- the Company’s revenues have fallen and you haven’t been helping.”

“Ten thousand guns, and I’ll have the whole country on its knees. It’s as simple as that.”

“It really isn’t. Look, it’s quite clear that Bombay’s been doing a better job of it, and the Viceroy there hasn’t asked for any new weapons-“

“Bombay is run by a bunch of traitors! Equality between blacks and whites? Elected councils? Do you not remember the Mutiny?”

“What I remember, Your Excellency, is that we are here to make money. The Board doesn’t give a damn if you shoot Gandy or you dine with him. Seems to me that Bombay’s picked the better option.”

The Viceroy paused thoughtfully, uncharacteristically, and pulled out a cigar. Lighting it, he then sat on his throne.

“Look, there are real security issues here, and we can’t have Bombay play around with giving some baboo intellectuals power- not when one of them keeps bombing us!”

“Your Excellency, Bombay is getting antsy with what you’ve been doing. And His Excellency in Bombay is your equal.”

Of course he didn’t yet know Bombay was sheltering Gandy, and actually, neither did the Board, but it paid to be involved with two sides. Well, three- or rather four, but not all the pieces were in Bengal so that didn’t matter. Not yet.

The Viceroy was fuming of course, but there was a delicate balance to be had in those days, you understand: the French, the Russians, the Hindoos themselves- they all had to be coddled when it came to India, and as long as the wine flowed and everyone allowed to trade, there were no worries. Unfortunately, the Viceroy had been stirring the pot: mass arrests, checkpoints along all major cities, martial law.

He burst into speech:

“The barbarians are at the gates, and we are turning the keys for them! We can’t give away our Crown Jewel, we’ve already lost so much!”

There was one card yet to be played, and he’d turn absolutely crimson if I used it. So I did.

“Mister Churchill! Not one extra gun from London, and that’s that!”

I was practically chased out of the Durbar after that; he’d complain of course, and I’d get a scolding from HQ, but I was there to diffuse the situation, and Bengal was just the first step; I’d be damned if I were to quit India without a full paycheck!

Once I left Fort William I found Mahesh snoozing in the car.

“Wake up! We’re off!”

"Back home, sir?”

“I’m afraid not. How far is Delhi from here?”

Now I’d have to have a very similar conversation with HM himself, but in Persian with more bowing and uncomfortable sitting. God help me, I’d rather just get strangled by a thug.
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