The Prisoner's Dilemma (25 page)

‘I think you must be right, Sophie,' muttered Hume, carefully thinking through what she was saying. ‘Like you, I couldn't see how the doves could ever win until we imagined a sprinkling of retaliators amongst them taking advantage of the depleted and weakened hawks. To use your picture of the ancient world, didn't the Roman empire collapse to the co-operation message of Christianity, in spite of their laws and hierarchies? It's widely believed that it was the barbarians who led to the fall of Rome but by then the empire had converted. And the barbarians? Of course they converted also in time, their ferocity tamed by the new co-operators. And I think that sometimes a co-operator can appear to lose but still win.'

He looked about himself as if trying to remember something
and then waved over towards where a large tapestry hung on the wall.

‘Why, there is the very story I was looking for. King Solomon and the two women. Do you remember the tale? Both of them claimed that a baby was theirs and appealed to the king to decide between them. The king ordered that the child should be cut in half so they could share it. Then the truth emerged. It was the love of the real mother that made her agree to let the lying woman have the baby rather than see it killed. She immediately wanted the baby to survive, even if it meant her losing the child. The wise king knew at once that the woman who chose to get no points was the one who should get five.'

‘Mr Hume explains the bible,' said Sophie with a laugh. ‘Wherever will the Dilemma take us next!'

David Hume gave her an affectionate smile.

‘But Sophie,' he continued after a short pause, ‘the most remarkable conclusion that comes through your interrogation of the game is that it's the
same
selfish, self-interested instinct for survival in us that makes us defect in the one-time Prisoner's Dilemma yet leads us to co-operate in long term relationships. Because? Because it is rational to be selfish. Quite simply, it is the way to win. Perhaps we see it everywhere? My friend John Brown, the great physician in Edinburgh that I believe I have mentioned to you before, told me recently that he and his colleagues constantly saw examples of our very particles fighting for supremacy within our bodies. You would have thought that they would all work towards our wellbeing but apparently they do not. In fact, did we not see that with Lord Dunbeath's fever? What was the heat in him except his very particles at war? And Brown astonished me even further by saying that the anatomy schools found examples of children, yet unborn, whose organs had taken nourishment from their sick mothers, even though they were sucking the very life out of them. To the point that the mother died. Yes, you are right to appear surprised, Sophie. I
was myself. An unborn child killing its own mother in the struggle to survive. We think it's our minds that make us selfish but it's plainly far deeper than that – our very particles are selfish. All nature is selfish. This is the universal truth – everything, every living thing, is putting itself first.'

Sophie looked sadly away. She thought for a second and then murmured more to herself than to Hume.

‘I hope you and your medical friends are wrong. Perhaps the mother's particles were sacrificing themselves so that her child might live?'

* * * 

There was a knock on the door and L'Arquen pulled himself together. The decanter and glass had been put out of sight. Major Sharrocks came into the room.

‘Ah, good, you're here at last, Sharrocks. I have been thinking about that Dunbeath creature. The liar. He is the kind of Scot that you called the enemy within, the enemy of the Union. You were never more right than when you said that. We chase around looking for invisible highlanders while their clan chiefs sit in their castles, making their plans. And what plans are these? Why, to support a man who thinks he should reign instead of our rightful king. We don't know yet that Dunbeath has sided with the uprising – but I'm quite certain that he's lied to me. I have to conclude, therefore, that it is his intention to support this Bonnie Prince Charlie. I've decided not to wait any longer, Sharrocks. I've decided to crush him before he can crush us. Update me now, what is your latest information on the matter?'

‘Well, sir, I withdrew surveillance about a week ago as you ordered but not before one of my men reported that the fellow we saw sitting on the dune had given up his staring at the castle. He was last seen fighting with one of the fishermen and knocking him to the ground.'

‘Fighting eh? I wonder what that was about. Still, where there's a fight, you'll generally find resentment in the loser. Apply some pressure there. See the fisherman and ask him what he's got to say. Let me see some action. Action, Sharrocks, action! I'm unhappy with your lack of initiative. Get on with it. Use your imagination, major, and quickly – or you may find me using mine on you.'

‘Mr Smith! Mr Smith!'

The enormous outline of his landlady stood in Adam Smith's doorway, her great bulk blocking out the light as she stood shouting at him. A maid hid behind her, peering at Smith over her mistress's shoulder. For the third time, the woman took a deep breath and drew herself up, the better to bellow.

‘Mr Smith! If you do not calm yourself I shall call for the doctor.'

At last Smith seemed to notice that someone was in his room. He stopped his roaming and stared at the floor, shaking slightly as a racehorse might after a spirited sprint.

‘What? What is it?'

‘What is it, sir? Why it is you, sir! You have marched about the room these past two hours, quaking as if for a fit, shouting your nonsense into the air. Are you not aware of what you do, Mr Smith? Much more of this and I shall have to give you notice. I have other tenants to think on you know. Why sir, are you ill?'

Adam Smith continued to be rooted to the spot. He didn't lift his eyes.

‘I am quite well, I thank you. I am simply giving voice to the debates that I conduct in my head. Who else am I to speak to? I am quite able to hold both sides of an argument and I wish to hear them out. So, I am loud. So, no doubt you think me insane. Well, I do not think this makes the debate any the less.'

He began to calm down and now looked up and smiled at the vastness in his doorway.

‘Still, I apologise. You are too good to me, madam. I thank you.'

One smile was enough. The landlady melted. She beamed back at him and gently closed the door. Smith remained still for a moment and then seemed to come out of his daze. He smiled again, this time to himself, and leant down to the floor and
picked up David Hume's letter from where it had fallen from his fingers.

* * * 

Makepeace had found the Observatory surprisingly easily on the hill at Greenwich and was directed into the presence of the Astronomer Royal as soon as his assistant was told on whose errand he had come. James Bradley now tore open Dunbeath's letter and read it twice. He then urgently began to pick up some papers.

‘By God, your master has run it close this time,' he said to Makepeace. ‘The meeting is tomorrow morning. We never thought he would come. I must see him immediately and decide if he should show the Board his work.'

They went immediately to Dunbeath's carriage and Makepeace soon had his team at a warm canter for the drive back to St James's. Bradley had for some months doubted whether the earl was keeping up with the field in the race to find a solution to the problems of longitude but he was not to be disappointed now and it was only two hours later that he was leaning back in his chair at Urquhain House with a look of blank astonishment on his face.

‘Lord Dunbeath, I cannot believe that you have completed the celestial mapping that we started so many years ago. It is hardly credible. I have no words to express my congratulations. We have reached many of the same conclusions in London that you have here, but you have gone so much further in finding practical solutions to the problems that have dogged us. And your work on the Transit of Venus at such a high latitude as the north of Scotland is absolutely critical to the solution.'

‘There has been much heartache over the years, Mr Bradley, and many a wrong turn,' replied Dunbeath. ‘The fieldwork was the least of it. Of course, it took much time but I was under water
in my conclusions for many a long month until I met a German collaborator recently who was the key to completing the work. My collaborator was a woman. Yes, I can see that you're surprised at that information, but her extraordinary insights showed me the way when I was lost. More even than that, she has perfected a method of calculation that will allow the time needed to make a determination of longitude for an experienced navigator come down from four hours to just over two. Let me show you her method.'

It was a further hour before the Astronomer Royal looked up from Dunbeath's explanations and spoke to him again with renewed admiration.

‘Well, this is brilliant work, Lord Dunbeath. I feel quite certain that the Board will agree. And unless the king continues to interfere, I would trust that the Prize is won by celestial navigation – by you – when we see the Board tomorrow, and not by that pox-ridden machinery of Mr Harrison's.'

‘What!' shouted Dunbeath incredulously, flying off his chair in alarm. ‘Has that Yorkshire fraud still not been exposed for the total charlatan that he is? Why, he's just a damned carpenter, nothing more.'

James Bradley looked unhappily down at the carpet.

‘I see that news of Mr Harrison's technical developments have not reached you in Scotland, Lord Dunbeath. Harrison is now claiming that he has perfected a clock that he says will prove to be accurate on sea voyages to an almost uncanny degree. Of course, we've done everything in our power at the Observatory to find fault with it and indeed the Board of Longitude is as one with us on this, but I fear …'

‘You fear what?' said Dunbeath fiercely, his colour rising. ‘What is it?'

‘Well, it is the king. It seems that Mr Harrison appealed to Viscount Rothley for help and through him he was able to gain an audience with His Majesty. God knows what passed between
them but it is said that the king believes Mr Harrison has been treated unfairly by us. Can you credit it? Just because he has not liked the tests we have set for him these past fifteen years and has complained and quibbled at every turn. He says we have refused him funding, but why should we use our precious resources – resources that were voted for us by Parliament for celestial navigation – on such an absurd venture as his?'

Dunbeath had jumped to his feet in anger and he now began to stalk around the room, his arms stabbing the air.

‘A clock! A clock!' he kept repeating. ‘I've worked for twelve years measuring these lunar distances. And other men have slaved over them in other places for even longer than I have. The sacrifices we've made! And now I find a damned clock is to be in the same room as me. And being given consideration by the Board of Longitude!'

Zweig had been sitting quietly, listening to the two men's discussion. He now assessed the situation and saw how easily all could be lost by Dunbeath's temper. He rose from where he was sitting on a sofa and stood in front of the earl's furiously striding figure, forcing him to come to a standstill. He fixed him with an unblinking look.

‘Lord Dunbeath,' he said, ‘we shall have need of your fervour and energy tomorrow but you are among friends this evening. Let me put a proposal to you. If you are happy to do so you may call on me as a seaman to say that I know of no other nation, and certainly not the German empire, that would ever countenance trusting our fleets to something so prone to break down as a clock.

‘The heavens do not break, they do not disappoint or confuse. We fleet owners and captains have been trained to rely on the planets for generations and we would not change our view for a collection of wheels and springs. Anyone who would say differently has not been to sea. If you wish me to, I shall say this to your Board and to any others there may be in the room. No
doubt it will be full of landsmen with not a true sailor among them.'

Dunbeath stopped and looked at Zweig with admiration and gratitude.

‘Would you? Would you do this for me, Captain Zweig? It would mean a great deal to me and to Mr Bradley if you would give the Board your professional views. Its members would be much influenced by the opinion of a foreign expert. Britain's world trade depends on winning the race for a universal solution and if you put doubt in their minds about the clock it would play strongly on them when they come to make a decision.'

He reached down and took Zweig's hand.

‘Yet again, captain, I have reason to thank you.'

* * * 

James was working at his nets early the next morning when Major Sharrocks rode up with an escort of three troopers. The officer dismounted and walked over, barking loudly at him with his usual ill-tempered menace.

‘A word with you, fisherman. What's your name?'

‘James McLeish.'

‘Well, Mr McLeish. You may be just the man to help us. I've seen you often with your friend, the one that likes his glaring at the castle. He doesn't seem to be doing it any more. Do you know where he is?'

‘Aye,' replied James sulkily, ‘I might. But he's no friend of mine. What's it to you, anyway?'

‘Never mind what it's got to do with us,' snapped Sharrocks sharply, ‘I know he's no friend of yours, McLeish. My men tell me they saw him treating you ill some days ago. So, where is he? Quick man, out with it, or I'll have you into Craigleven and ask you there. No doubt you've heard that Scotsmen go in but do not come out. Would you like that?'

James thought for a moment. Why should he care if the redcoats knew where Zweig was? And why should he run the risk of getting into trouble for lying? Of being tortured by these cruel people, just to spite them because they were English? No, he had no reason for protecting either Zweig or that bastard Dunbeath. In fact, he'd like to see them both in hell.

‘He's gone to London. With Lord Dunbeath. His lordship had to be there in haste and they sailed down together.'

But, with instant horror, he saw how appalled Major Sharrocks was to hear this.

‘What?' Sharrocks screamed at James. ‘Gone to London! By heaven, Colonel L'Arquen will not like to hear this. When did they go?'

‘Over a week ago,' said James, his voice wavering as panic rose in him and his chest tightened. He had no idea that Sharrocks would have reacted in this way.

Sharrocks flung himself at his horse. He mounted and jerked its head round, then stared at James with horrible menace.

‘I'll want to speak to you further about this. I know you by name now, James McLeish, so don't be foolish and think you can avoid me. Colonel L'Arquen will no doubt want to talk to you himself. And, McLeish, I know my colonel – if he does, I advise you to find your tongue.'

Sharrocks shouted a further order and the troop careered off at a furious gallop. James stood as still as a stone, knocked silent, utterly terrified at what he'd just unleashed on himself. His head spun and a sickness rose in his throat. He was at first paralysed with inaction but quickly became manic in his terror, and he now ran headlong back to the cottage. His mother looked up from her work as he threw the door open and was immediately aware that something had gone badly wrong. She set her sewing down and listened as James stammered out the story of Sharrocks' cross-questioning. Even though he tried to exaggerate the extent of his resistance to Sharrocks, his heart quailed as he saw how
horrified his mother was at the news.

‘You didn't tell them who Alexis was, did you?' she asked breathlessly when he'd finished. ‘Oh James, I know full well your dislike for the man but if you let slip to the English who he is, they would certainly hang him when he gets back from London. They know what was in that ship. And they'll want to know who's been sheltering him! They'll think we're with the uprising. They'll blame us. Oh God, James. What have you done?'

She thought for a few moments. Then she turned back to look fiercely into her son's ash-grey face.

‘You have to get away. You can't let them take you to Craigleven. They'll have it all out of you in five minutes if you go in there. If those soldiers come again I'll say you've gone out with the fishing fleet. We could even say that you'd drowned. No, better still, just disappear. Go to Edinburgh and hide yourself there until this rebellion is over. I've no doubt larger matters will be filling people's heads by then. And, who knows, the English may lose the war and be thrown out of Scotland. Yes, we have to hope for that. That's the best thing to do. Disappear. Go to Edinburgh.'

‘But I have no money, Mother. I'll starve. They'll find me in a ditch. The only thing of value I have is the package that Zweig left with you for safekeeping. If you give it to me, I'll be able to sell it when I get to Edinburgh.'

A dark look came into Mona's face.

‘I can't give it to you, James. You know that I gave my word not to hand it over unless Alexis didn't return. I will not break my bond.'

James was too desperate by now to be put off by what he believed had been half-meant promises.

‘You must give it to me,' he shouted, his fear mounting by the second in the face of her reluctance. ‘Mother, it's all I have in the world. How am I to survive if I'm not able to sell it? It's the only money I have.'

Mona McLeish looked back at her son with suspicion, her anxiety raised by his evident panic.

‘But what is it that matters so much? What's in that bundle anyway, James? Why is it so important?'

James turned away, biting his lip.

‘I …I can't say,' he stammered. ‘It is between myself and Zweig. It's of great value. It was something Zweig had with him when he swam ashore from the shipwreck. And he promised it to me for saving his life.'

James looked at Mona imploringly.

‘Mother!' he wailed finally, his voice breaking with a mixture of fear and desperation. ‘I must have that package. If I'm to live I must have it. Mother, I'm your son! Do you put Zweig before me? Do you?'

By now he was sobbing on his knees before her and Mona looked at him for a few seconds.

‘Wait here,' she said at last, her lips set in a tight line, and left the cottage.

James was still on his knees when she came back a short while later and handed him the long object wrapped in its oilskin.

* * * 

Hume set the book he was reading down on the sofa beside him. It was dull stuff and he knew he'd far rather be talking to Sophie – by a long way the most stimulating woman he had ever met …in his limited experience, he admitted to himself, ruefully. More difficult to admit was the sense of loss he felt when she wasn't in the room with him.