{"id":251927,"date":"2026-07-13T01:38:36","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:38:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/an-emergent-state-andrew-wareham\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T01:38:36","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:38:36","slug":"an-emergent-state-andrew-wareham","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/an-emergent-state-andrew-wareham\/","title":{"rendered":"An Emergent State – Andrew Wareham"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"<\/figure>\n

Most amusing! In a cardboard box, eh, sir? I shall have to tell the boys that one at dinner time, you know, I almost believed when you said it without a grin\u2026 Oh, my God!\u201d Benjamin looked leerily at the box, afraid it might explode or bite him or flash obscene currency notes. \u201cSir, we can\u2019t really do that, sir. It is not correct.\u201d He spoke in that careful voice reserved for dealing with lunatics or slow children or bishops of the Church of England \u2013 a kind, superior, gently patronising, humouring tone with just the least edge of desperation.<\/p>\n

Jones grinned. \u201cYou\u2019re probably right.\u201d \u201cNo, sir, certainly right. It must be locked away, safe \u2013 that is it! A safe! We must have a safe! This is money, sir: tins of fish go in cardboard boxes, money goes in safes. Honest, sir!\u201d \u201cWe must have it to hand instantly available night or day. We cannot have it locked away out of reach.\u201d \u201cWe can open a safe very easily, sir.<\/p>\n

You use a key.\u201d \u201cWell, if you insist\u2026\u201d \u201cI will get one, I shall organise it now, we cannot work in the same room as a box full of money. It is not done, sir, it is bad for us, we would probably go blind!\u201d He backed out of the room, eyes never leaving the box, clattered off down the corridor. The phone rang. \u201cIs that the rewards man?\u201d \u201cYes, Jones speaking.\u201d \u201cGood. Will you pay rewards for every escaped man?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d \u201cGood. How much for a man who was in jail for stealing cars and escaped after six months with two years still to go?\u201d \u201cNot a lot, I\u2019m afraid. I\u2019ll check my list but cars are not very important \u2013 nothing\u2019s too small, but\u2026<\/p>\n

\n

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author\u2019s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.<\/p>\n

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them. PublishNation www.publishnation.co.uk 1kitap1.com\/en Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven 1kitap1.com\/en Chapter One Eight thirty in the morning, the equatorial day two and a half hours old, the sun hot, but not yet intolerable, the Dry Season wind cooling the grassless, brown-baked parade ground.<\/p>\n

Dust drifted into eyes, crept into armpits and socks, crawled up legs, the itch readying itself for the day\u2019s onslaught. The audience assembled, in duty bound, in the lines of unforgiving iron chairs set out in the shade of the drill sheds, looked across the sere, reclaimed \u2013 almost \u2013 swampland to the low, tan, rounded, hazy, fire-patched hills of the coastal savannah. Even the gum trees were short of leaf and the frangipani were bare except for their lush blossom, the heavy scent almost covering the whiff of the inevitable dead dog somewhere on the other side of the wire, and leavening the growing smell of sweat.<\/p>\n

The wives, the civilian employees and the officers from the administrative unit sat segregated, uncomfortable in official proximity to each other, the women determinedly patronising all those inferior to their husbands\u2019 rank and, publicly, cutting civilians dead. They sat in apparently close formation, twenty expatriates and a dozen national officers, seething with frustration, discontent and simple boredom, the tension sparkling between them the only sign of life.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n
\n

Table of Contents<\/p>\nToggle<\/span><\/path><\/svg><\/svg><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n