28. Pig in a Poke

It had become clear that their time traveler would be no help when it came to the intricacies of week-by-week aeroplane movements from forty years before he was born, so hints from songs it was. Logically, that described most of humanity, no doubt, but it was nonetheless maddening. A man from the future, eager to assist them, and they were reduced to combing dance tunes. At least his penmanship was good.

He had, to his credit, worked like a dog assembling his odd songbook. However, Short reported — Bowyer was no good for that sort of thing — that he had begun to brood. Possibly it was sheer boredom, confinement, and a sense of insult, but at least he seemed less petulant, stuck-up, or inclined to sulk than the typical double agent. Part of that was no doubt his innate temperament, as well as his apparently being a true Allied ideologue, a novel luxury for Camp 020.

Nonetheless, he might well bear a personal grudge regarding the circumstances of his arrival and initial welcome, and it wouldn’t do for him to go sour. While he couldn’t be allowed to leave the premises, he could perhaps be allowed outdoors under guard. An ally not treated like an ally would typically cease to act like one, at least to some extent. Outright treachery was inconsistent with Smith-Ramirez’s psychology (as well as deeply impractical) but one got better work from a man who felt himself a well-treated ally rather than a bored and trammeled drudge. At least he was friendly with Bowyer despite their brief association, and they worked well together; thank heaven for small mercies.

A first pass over the songbook he could get in tonight — and the vital work of breaking “ordinary” spies could in no wise be neglected in favor of an exotic but maybe paltry source — and speak to Smith-Ramirez early the following morning.

A few hours later Stephens had reached the not entirely surprising conclusion that human beings had not, in the intervening sixty-five years, given up on songs about love (rarified or bodily or both) or music. Most of the songs (barring a few instrumentals) were in English, a few more in Spanish (translation provided and that accurately, as he could tell from the similarity to French) and (intriguingly) a few in Hindi. By a song called “Smells Like Teen Spirit” he’d simply written “??? sorry”.

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