Page 3 of The Lost Future of Pepperharrow

‘I don’t know why you’re wittering on about a new fleet. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ English.

Kuroda stared at him. Arinori was one of those people with absolutely no sense of irony. He wanted – and he had said so publicly, and often – to make English the national language or, failing that, to convert Japanese into Roman letters, to make it easier for children and foreigners to learn. Kuroda still kept the article from the Japan Times in the top drawer of his desk. It has been there since eighteen seventy-one, but he was still going to make Arinori eat it one day. ‘In England,’ Kuroda said, concentrating hard on not shoving him over the side, ‘they hang people like you.’

Arinori only laughed.

Kuroda went straight to the admiral’s cabin to tell him they would order forty new destroyers from Liverpool today, and bugger what the cabinet had to say about it. If he dithered any longer, the British would only sell the bloody things to the Americans, or worse, the Tsar.

He and the admiral were still finishing off a bottle of wine when a lieutenant hurried in to report that there was enemy movement ahead.

‘Enemy movement?’ the admiral scoffed. ‘What d’you mean, enemy movement? We’re only twenty miles offshore.’

The lieutenant looked anxious. ‘Perhaps you’d better see, sir.’

Kuroda went with them to the bridge. The admiral leaned down to see into the long scope, and stayed bent for a long time. When he straightened up, he wasn’t smiling anymore. Kuroda looked into the eye-piece too, puzzled.

Right on the horizon, about thirty miles away, there were ships. A lot of them. They weren’t passing through. They were all facing in different directions, and even as he watched, an arc of smoke shot out from the heavy guns of the largest destroyer. They were running combat drills.

‘What are we looking at, sir?’ the lieutenant whispered.

‘We are looking,’ the admiral snapped, ‘at the entire Russian Pacific fleet wanking at us off the coast of Busan.’

Kuroda sent the order to Liverpool from the Admiralty office at Nagasaki. He was just checking the wording with his secretary when another secretary, sounding worried, announced his favourite aide and general fixer-upper, Mr Tanaka. Everyone needed a Tanaka. Although the rest of the government wore smart black morning suits and those ridiculous lapel carnations, Tanaka swanked around in a bright red coat with mismatching buttons. One, which always glittered in strong light, was a miniature Fabergé egg. Kuroda had a feeling that Tanaka had decided the corridors of power needed a splash of completely tasteless colour – Tanaka often decided things – and he liked him a lot for it.

‘Tanaka,’ Kuroda said. ‘Get the scientists up to Aokigahara. They’re on.’

Tanaka lifted his eyebrows, but he didn’t ask questions. He only bowed and vanished.

Tokyo University was the best in the country. Dr Grace Carrow would have liked to think that her lecture room was full because some of the brightest students in the world wanted to know what she had to say, but she was nearly certain that it was because the rain was torrential outside, and the physics department was right above the boiler room. The novelty of a woman tutor had worn off weeks ago.

The course was a ten-week general introduction to various branches of physics for second-year undergraduates, but this fortnight block covered her field: ether theory. She always looked forward to it.

Even though, for a few days beforehand, she always felt uneasy. Ether theory was the only viable scientific explanation for clairvoyance; inevitably, it made her think of the one genuine clairvoyant she knew. She didn’t know Keita Mori well, just well enough to know she didn’t ever want to see him again. He was a quiet man, but she knew what it was like to be extremely clever in a very small space. You got bored.

She was just starting her lecture when a man wearing a red coat came in. The coat had mismatched buttons. One of them was a Fabergé egg.

‘Sorry, all,’ he said easily. ‘Lecture’s cancelled, order of the Home Ministry. Off you all sod.’

Grace didn’t argue. You didn’t, with men from the Ministry. The students looked worried, but they trooped out. She waited by the blackboard, trying to scrape up enough of her abysmal Japanese to ask what was going on. Lectures were always in English, which was just as well, because she had the linguistic capability of a sea cucumber. As far as she could tell, the word for ‘husband’ and the word for ‘prisoner’ were identical. Half the faculty were still worried that she’d got Baron Matsumoto locked away in her attic.

‘It’s all right, Dr Matsumoto,’ the man said in English, looking amused. ‘You’ve not done anything wrong. My name’s Tanaka.’

That was the Japanese version of Smith. It must have been a false name; people who were actually called Smith introduced themselves by their first names. Unease stiffened her back. One of the reasons she liked Tokyo was that, even if you were a little woman of five foot three, you were titanic in comparison to most people. Grace went walking at midnight here and never worried. She hadn’t realised before what an invisible weight it was in London, being – not afraid or even nervous – but aware all the time of people on the street. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like.

‘And mine’s Carrow,’ she said slowly. ‘I didn’t take my husband’s name. How may I help you, Mr Tanaka?’

Tanaka smiled. The jewels on his Fabergé egg button were winking bright shadows onto her lecture notes. ‘You can hear me out. The government are running a defence project and it’s about to get going. We need ether scientists. I can’t tell you the exact specifications until we get there, but you’d be perfect. It’s very new, very secret. We’d have to go right now. You can’t tell anyone where you’re going. I’ll inform the university, your husband, all that.’

‘Well, that sounds insane,’ Grace said. Two men in smart suits had appeared by the door.

Tanaka nodded. ‘It does. But, the most insane measures are always the ones that are surrounded by silly amounts of money.’ He tipped his head. ‘You get next to no funding here. The department hired you because your husband’s rich. You don’t have a lab. You barely have an office. You should be in research, not wasting your time with a bunch of snotty undergrads. But what I’m talking about – it’s serious. The department mentioned your name to me because they want to be shot of you, but I’ve read your work, Dr Carrow, and you are exactly who we want.’

She hesitated. He wasn’t wrong. ‘Where will it be based?’

‘Can’t tell you til we get there.’

‘If … look, you needn’t tell me yes or no, but I’m going to tell you what I think you’re doing. If this is military, you’re not interested in theories, and there’s only one obvious practical application of ether theory. I think you’re starting a project that will determine whether or not clairvoyance is reproducible in laboratory conditions.’

Tanaka winked. ‘As you say, I can’t tell you.’