The CRES code

Chapter Fifty One - The Proposition

     "Randall is not in Howgill," said the voice.

     Emily started in alarm, then relaxed when he realised that it was a priest talking to her by means of her head phone. Machines didn't believe in introductions or in making polite small talk as a preliminary to a conversation, it seemed. "He isn't?" she replied. "Are you sure?"

     "We have examined the images of the suspect sent back by the pigeon and the local priest has identified him. His name is Nathan Cooper. He is a barrel maker and has lived in Howgill all his life. The priest sampled his DNA just in case Randall had killed him and assumed his identity and it is definitely him. You were mistaken."

     "Oh. Sorry to waste your time."

     "There is no need to apologise. We repeat out words of gratitude for the effort you are making. You made a genuine mistake. You only got a partial glimpse of the man and you made the correct decision in bringing him to our attention."

     An image of Nathan Cooper appeared in Emily's visual field. A man in his mid fifties with greying hair and a heavily wrinkled face. Emily chuckled to herself. "From the front, he looks nothing like him," she said. "The resemblance from behind is uncanny, though."

     The image was replaced by an image of the man taken from behind. From this angle, all that could be seen of his head was his shoulder length hair. "His height and build," Emily continued. "I genuinely thought it was him. Are you sure this is the man I saw?"

     "The priest questioned him and confirmed that he was at the time and place where you saw the suspect. The priest also has an intimate knowledge of the people of Howgill and told us that there are no other residents bearing more than a superficial resemblance to him. Nor have there been any visitors to the town for several weeks. We can have almost a hundred percent confidence that this was the man you saw, therefore."

     Emily nodded. "So what happens now?" she asked.

     "The orc army will return to Elmton to resume its attack. The human population of the British Isles has reached its maximum permissible level. The cull must continue. The orc army will arrive at around the same time as the human army. There should be quite a battle."

     "Something to stave off the boredom, I would imagine," said Emily. "I would imagine that even machines enjoy a nice spectacle on occasion."

     "We do not share your human fascination with scenes of violence," stated the priest flatly.

     Bullshit, thought Emily in the privacy of her own head. If all they really wanted was to keep the human population down, there were other ways they could have done it. Contraceptives in the water supply perhaps. Of course, without a common enemy to unite them, it wouldn't have been long before human nations were at war with each other. Empires would rise, subject populations would be turned into slaves. Was it possible that creating the orcs was actually the best possible way to reduce human misery?

     Who cares? she decided. So long as the natural world was preserved, she wouldn't care if every human in the world suffered a long, painful death. "Okay," she said. "Thanks for the information. I'll keep looking. If he's anywhere where a pigeon can see him, I'll find him sooner or later. The others as well."

     "You have our gratitude," replied the priest, and the connection ended.

☆☆☆

     The gates in Harper's Wall had been opened when the orcs left, but when the guards saw the huge crowd walking purposefully along the road towards them they shouted orders and the doors began to close again. By the time Randall was standing before them, he was facing a wall of iron strapped oak from the top of which helmeted heads looked nervously down at him.