The VIP box at the Nordhavn Arena looked as though someone had decided that power would appear more approachable if enough velvet was draped over the walls.
Dark red fabric covered the panelling. Golden cords held back heavy curtains, behind which lay the glass front facing the arena. Down below, the ice was now empty, cleaned, dark, almost innocent. In the box were deep armchairs, a low table of dark wood, a small, very exclusive buffet with steamed pineapple, cold salmon, poached figs, iced pralines, aquavit whipped with apple sauce, and Chinese porcelain bowls of custard. At the far end of the room stood a throne.
It was large enough not to be ridiculous and to remind everyone that Denmark was not merely the host here.
Princess Indulan sat on the throne.
Stromberg entered first, followed by Klebb, Lodge and Volpe. After them came Anya, Claudia and Paloma. Behind them followed Mutoi, Komarova, Kalaschek, Höller, Kromoser, Eder, Köck and Magnus. The cadets stood upright in a way that betrayed their desperate inner longing to return to a world where Nestroy quotations were the most dangerous thing about an evening. However, they had tidied their hair and put their uniform jackets back on, so there were no longer any dirty traces of the harbour on their white shirts.
Magnus looked around.
“This is cosier than the underground car park.”
Claudia looked at him.
“Almost anything is cosier than an underground car park with nuclear waste.”
“Not always,” muttered Magnus.
Indulan raised a hand.
It was a slight movement. Nevertheless, the room fell silent.
“I’ve heard,” she said, “that the gala for the protection of the oceans has now resulted in an armed underground car park standoff, an injured Soviet athlete, missing neptunium rings, two barrels of vitrified nuclear waste, and the involvement of Austrian and Hessian schoolchildren. That was not what we expected. And whilst our scientists are still enjoying the buffet after the efficiency presentation, we must make genuinely sustainable decisions here.”
She looked at Mutoi.
“Have I forgotten anything essential?”
Mutoi swallowed.
“A concrete stick-shooting competition, Your Royal Highness.”
Indulan nodded.
“That was part of the solution, not the problem itself, as the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard would describe it.”
Volpe walked over to the small buffet, but took only a poached fig. Lodge placed his briefcase next to an armchair, as if it were also loaded. Klebb stayed close to Stromberg and regarded Paloma with a cheerful attentiveness that Paloma noticed and suggestively ignored. Anya stood so that she could see Indulan, Stromberg and the exit at the same time. Claudia had her arms crossed and looked as though, to her, velvet was just another kind of insulation material.
Indulan addressed Claudia first.
“Dr Tiedemann. Begin.”
Claudia reported succinctly. She explained the tidal power station as a tertiary cooling circuit with auxiliary energy generation and plastic filter bonus efficiency, the microsphere cluster reactor, the presumed contents of the spent fuel pool, the protective clothing, the iodine tablets, the vitrified barrels and the efficiency figures that didn’t fit with an ice rink unless one was operating a trans-temporal cold portal beneath the city.
“And the rings?” asked the princess.
Claudia looked at Anya.
Anya took over. She didn’t explain like a scientist, but like a woman who thought immediately in terms of impact, risk and ownership. The six rings were not decoration, she said, but the key to a technology that must not become public knowledge. In the wrong hands, it could alter seas, ports, waterways and entire strategic areas.
Paloma then reported on the loading of the first three rings. She said it without remorse. Cuba hadn’t stolen them, she said, but secured them. A small country had to act quickly when great powers were busy trying to justify to one another, on moral grounds, why only they themselves should be allowed to possess dangerous technology.
Lodge cleared his throat.
“That was a very poetic euphemism for theft.”
Paloma smiled.
“And you are a very expensive euphemism for bribery.”
“Financing.”
Stromberg said nothing for a long time. Then he spoke himself. He spoke of oceans, of heat, of shipping, of currents, of cooling, and of the responsibility to think bigger than states that looked only as far as the next election or succession.
Indulan listened to him without interrupting. That made it more honourable in his eyes.
When he had finished, she looked at Mutoi.
“Cadet Mutoi, you suggested me as a mediator. Why?”
Mutoi took half a step forward.
“Your Highness, because everyone else here is asserting either claims of ownership, research interests, geopolitical goals or financial losses. The Royal House is affected because it has accepted Stromberg’s electricity and foundation funds. But that is precisely why Your Highness cannot pretend that this is merely about technology. It is about the credibility of the Danish monarchy and the agreement between the monarchies.”
Magnus whispered to Köck: “He sounds as if he’s learnt that by heart.”
Köck whispered back: “No, because then it would be shorter.”
Indulan didn’t smile. But her eyes grew warmer.
“Very well,” she said. “Then hear my decision now!”
Stromberg sat up straight. Anya fell silent. Claudia looked as though she were already preparing objections in her mind.
She placed just one hand on the arm of the throne, whilst the other traced a large exclamation mark in the air.
“Firstly: Mr Stromberg is donating the Nordhavn Arena to the Danish Royal House with immediate effect. Including the tidal power station and the microsphere cluster reactor.”
Stromberg took a barely perceptible breath.
“Your Highness—”
“I’m not finished yet.”
He fell silent.
“The reactor will not remain in Copenhagen. It will be moved to a more discreet location outside the city, under the supervision of the Royal House, with the goodwill of the World Energy Organisation, and operated by selected Danish technical agencies. Only the tidal power plant will remain in the arena. The hall will remain open to the public and will in future be run as a Danish showcase project for maritime energy efficiency and renamed the Stromberg Hall in honour of the donor.”
Claudia nodded slowly. She didn’t entirely like it, but it wasn’t a bad idea.
Indulan continued: “Secondly: Mr Stromberg will receive a Danish order of merit for his generous donation.”
Magnus’s eyes widened.
“That’s very Danish of them,” he muttered.
“And,” said Indulan, “his ships will be permanently exempt from taxes and port fees in Denmark.”
Lodge looked up.
Now he was genuinely interested and immediately jotted down a note with the silver fountain pen he’d pulled from his jacket.
Stromberg looked at Indulan as though she had just turned a defeat into a business model.
“Permanently?”
“As long as your foundation meets the following conditions.”
“Of course,” said Stromberg immediately.
Claudia snorted. Anya said quietly, “He’s just seen land again.”
“Water,” corrected Paloma. “It’s always water with him.”
Indulan turned to Anya.
“Thirdly: Ms Amasowa retains the data copies already secured. The Soviet Union receives two of the three remaining neptunium rings.”
Paloma raised an eyebrow.
“Generous with things that don’t quite belong to the Soviet Union yet.”
“Nothing in this room belongs entirely to anyone yet,” said Indulan.
It was so simple that no one immediately objected.
“Fourthly: Dr Tiedemann shall also receive complete technical data on the reactor and the efficiency system. She shall receive one neptunium ring for research and security purposes, as well as the two drums of vitrified nuclear waste. In addition, Denmark will hand over three further tonnes of suitable nuclear waste to the power station and the Winden final repository at a fixed disposal price.”
Claudia blinked.
“Denmark is handing over?”
“The Stromberg Foundation is paying for the safe transport,” said Indulan. “Not the Danish government.”
Lodge was already opening his briefcase.
“That can be arranged.”
“I thought so,” said Indulan.
Claudia looked at Stromberg.
“You’re paying Winden to properly dispose of Danish nuclear waste?”
Stromberg replied: “I’m paying for Denmark and you to keep quiet. I just hope it’s not waste from Greenland or Iceland, given the length of the transport routes.”
Indulan turned to Paloma.
“Fifthly: Cuba retains the three rings that are already at sea, as well as a copy of the reactor plans.”
Anya said immediately: “That’s too much.”
Paloma said at the same time: “I like it that way.”
Indulan looked at both of them.
“Cuba has them. The question isn’t whether Cuba gets them. The question is whether Cuba will still have any reason to do something unwise afterwards.”
Paloma did not lower her gaze.
“Cuba will remember who was reasonable here.”
“I hope so,” said Indulan. “And I hope Cuba also remembers who didn’t ask whether a Danish princess likes to be presented with a fait accompli.”
Paloma barely smiled.
“Cuba will remember that very clearly.”
Indulan turned towards the door.
“Sixthly: Francine de la Motte is to receive all information regarding the efficiency system, the tidal power station and the microsphere cluster reactor. She is to be granted full access to these parts of the project as soon as all other elements have been safely removed.”
Claudia waited with Anya and Paloma.
“That is wise. I shall arrange it immediately,” commented Stromberg, casting a meaningful glance at Volpe, which Ravn noticed.
Indulan said, “Not a word about the rings and the portal generator.”
Claudia exhaled.
“Your Highness knows what that means?”
“Yes.”
“Then you also know that you are thereby stabilising a lie.”
“No,” said Indulan. “I am stabilising a truth that would otherwise engulf several governments, three intelligence services, a foundation, a royal house and a few very overwhelmed cadets tonight.”
Mutoi looked as though he wasn’t sure whether to thank her or faint.
Indulan continued: “Seventh: Lodge, Volpe and Klebb are to receive the Princess’s Medal of Honour.”
Klebb looked genuinely surprised for the first time.
Volpe smiled.
Lodge asked: “For what exactly?”
“For contributing to stabilisation in an armed situation without resorting to violence. Through first-aid supplies, negotiation, intimidation without firing a shot, and the remarkable willingness to rebrand bribery as infrastructure.”
Volpe tilted his head.
“I’ve heard worse reasons for jewellery.”
Klebb said, “It’s a medal?”
“Yes.”
“Not a brooch?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Indulan came to the most difficult part.
“Eighth: Ravn.”
The room grew colder.
Not physically. Socially.
“Ms Ravn is partly responsible for Ilya Rozanov’s injury. The shot came from her security detail. Unless Mr Stromberg punishes her himself, she will be handed over to the Danish police. And then the Royal House will not obstruct the investigation.”
Stromberg looked at the closed door.
“What does Your Highness mean by punishment?”
“Removal from all Danish projects and departure from the country.”
Stromberg remained silent.
“And,” said Indulan, “a written apology to Mr Rozanow, Mr Hollander and the Leopoldine Military Academy.”
Magnus whispered: “You always write to Austria last.”
Mutoi gave him a light kick on the foot.
Indulan looked at the cadets.
“Ninthly: the Austrian cadets and Magnus will remain silent about the events of this evening.”
Magnus raised a hand.
“Does that also apply to highly literary allusions?”
“Yes.”
“A pity for Hesse’s Nobel Prize in Literature.”
“In return, every student involved will receive pocket money of ten thousand euros from the Stromberg Foundation.”
The cadets froze.
Kalaschek said very quietly: “Per person or per school?”
Lodge replied automatically: “For tax purposes, this can be classified as educational funding and is even exempt from VAT in Denmark.” He jotted down another note in his notebook.
Indulan continued: “Furthermore, the Foundation is funding a joint Austrian-Hessian summer camp in Iceland. With a focus on natural sciences, monarchical encounters, marine science and a private party with DJ Riley Blu.”
Magnus looked as though someone had just turned Hesse into a fairy tale.
“Riley Blu?”
“Yes.”
“The Riley Blu?”
“I don’t know any other.”
Mutoi cleared his throat.
“Your Highness, may I point out that the cadets might appear to have been bribed?”
“No,” said Indulan. “They are being rewarded because they didn’t panic, administered first aid, guarded evidence and, in a creative way, exacerbated the crisis without completely destroying it.”
Komarova nodded. “That’s spot on.”
Kromoser whispered, “I won’t be sleeping in Iceland.”
Eder whispered back, “Good thing we’re already eighteen.”
Stromberg looked at Indulan.
“Your Highness is handing out my money generously.”
“You tried to cool the oceans today,” said Indulan. “A few teenagers are allowed to dance in Iceland.”
Paloma was the first to laugh. Anya resisted briefly, then her mouth twitched too. Claudia looked at the buffet.
“And what about de la Motte? She’ll notice that data is missing.”
“Of course,” said Indulan. “That’s why she’ll get enough to be officially in the right. And too little to trigger a global hunt for six rings tonight.”
Stromberg took a step forward.
“And what do I get, apart from a medal and exemption from port fees?”
Indulan looked at him for a long time.
“Port fees and taxes. You’ll recoup today’s losses in three, four years at the latest. You’ll get time, prestige, a clean narrative, and the chance not to have to hide your next idea under a capital city.”
Anya said dryly: “That’s more than he deserves.”
“Diplomacy,” said Indulan, “is the art of balancing interests, in which ultimately everyone emerges a winner.”
Mutoi raised his hand cautiously.
“That’s what distinguishes diplomacy from a tribunal,” lectured Kalaschek.
Magnus looked at Höller, who was raising his hand to speak.
“Everyone loses something. Everyone keeps something. No one gets everything. That’s how Nestroy would put it.”
Lodge nodded slowly. “The cadet has a future in the private sector.”
Stromberg looked at Anya.
“The Soviet Union?”
Anya said: “Agrees, but under protest.”
Paloma raised her head.
“Cuba agrees, without protest. Cuba already has three rings.”
Anya looked at her.
“Don’t get too much pleasure out of that sentence.”
“Too late.”
Claudia took a deep breath.
“Hesse agrees. On condition that Winden is paid the disposal fees in gold, not in Hessian marks. And that the reactor data isn’t ‘communist-cleansed’.”
Lodge nodded, after seeking Stromberg’s agreement.
Stromberg finally said: “I agree.”
Indulan looked at him.
“With Ravn?”
A small muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Ravn is being removed.”
Klebb said: “I’ll take the medal.”
Volpe smiled. “So will I.”
Lodge sighed. “So will I, provided it doesn’t get complicated tax-wise.”
Magnus took a glass of aquavit mixed with apple sauce.
“To the princess?”
Mutoi looked at Indulan.
“If Her Highness permits.”
Indulan had Volpe bring him a glass.
“I permit you to drink. Now leave this room sober enough to remember the lie.”
Everyone took a glass, even Stromberg, and raised it to the princess. Everyone drank it in one go, some with more relish than others. Magnus then took a slice of cold salmon with his bare fingers and stuffed it into his mouth. Komarova and Kalaschek took steamed pineapple, Volpe, Anya, Paloma and Höller each took a poached fig, Mutoi, Stromberg and Ravn each ate an iced praline, Klebb and the princess, who had since risen, each took a Chinese porcelain bowl of vanilla pudding.
Stromberg bowed slightly.
“Your Highness has saved the oceans from unnecessary destruction today.”
Indulan looked at him.
“Yes, Mr Stromberg. Denmark and you have more in common when it comes to the sea than you thought. In future, we should talk first and build later. The sea remains our shared concern. And now be grateful that I am going to Francine de la Motte in your stead to sort out this mess.”