The Lotus Eaters

Building 59, Fort Muddville, Balboa Transitway

"No, mon general," said Villepin, the intelligence officer. "I don't think—"

Janier held up one hand to silence his G-2. The general's eyes tracked a buzzing annoyance, winding low over his desk.

Someone had let a fly in through an open door. It was an unavoidable incident of life in the tropics, and as annoying as it was unavoidable. Screens on the windows could only keep down the numbers, even as they ensured that those flies that got in couldn't leave. This was what flypaper was for.

Janier sneered at the fly. He then picked up his telephone and punched in the number for his chief medical officer. "Kouchner, you filthy swine! The flypaper report you showed me said we had the fly problem under control! Why, then, is there a fly in my office?"

Janier slammed the phone down, apparently without waiting for an answer, and shouted out, "Malcoeur, you toad, get in here."

When the short, tubby, frog-faced major made his appearance, Janier said, "You are a toad, descended from toads." His finger lanced out at the buzz. "Follow your genes and catch that fly."

As Malcoeur scurried off to find a flyswatter, Janier said to de Villepin, "Continue."

The intel officer sighed. "As I was saying, no, mon general, I don't think we can use the drug trade to entice the Federated States into invading Balboa again, joining us in invading, or in supporting our invading Balboa. The ties are too close for that. Worse, the Federated States under its current regime is almost as casualty averse as our political 'masters.' And, if nothing else, the Balboans would make them bleed a great deal. Just as they will make us bleed unless we are very, very clever.

"We can, however, use the allegations of drug trafficking to confuse the Federated States, to make them ambivalent about both Balboa and the partition they inflicted on us some years ago in the interests of peace."

The conference room, though large, was empty but for Janier and Villepin . . . and the fly. Air conditioners hummed at two of the windows. It was as well they were working, since Janier was wearing his favorite uniform, the reproduction blue velvet and gold-embroidered informal dress uniform of a marshal of Napoleonic France. Hundreds of golden oak leaves covered the facings, the collar, the shoulders, and ran down each sleeve. But for the air conditioning, the combination of velvet and beastly-uncomfortable, stiff, high collar would have made the thing life threatening in Balboa's tropical clime.

Idly, Janier tapped his, likewise reproduction, marshal's baton, with its thirty-two gold eagles, on the broad, wooden conference table.

"Do you think that will work?" Janier asked, "Do you really think it will work when, if anyone is trafficking in drugs, it is our allies in the old government, cowering in fear in their little quarter and desperate for money?"

Villepin nodded. "Mon general, it is precisely because the rump government is involved in the trade that I am most confident that they can arrange to make it look as if it is Parilla and his government, aided in every particular by the Legion del Cid, that is running the whole enterprise."

Janier stopped tapping the table with his baton, raising the thing to rest against his shoulder and cheek. "It is elegant, I admit."

The baton began to tap again, this time against the Gallic general's cheek. He chewed on his lower lip while slowly nodding. Plainly he was weighing the pros and cons of Villepin's plan.

"All we really need," the general finally said, "is to get the Federated States or one of the TU's high courts to take out drug trafficking charges against either Parilla or Carrera. Both would be nice but either will do. At that point, the FSC's hands are tied while ours will be left free." Tap. Tap. Chew. Chew. Tap. Chew. Mull. Ponder . . .

"Do it. Set it up. As quickly as possible." Janier mused a bit more. "It would really be a help, you know, if somehow we could split the enemy's ranks, so that it looked as if he were falling apart and we, and our clients of the old government, would have to step in for the sake of law and order."

Villepin answered, "Well, it's still a bit uncertain but now that you mention it . . ."