John swirled the wine in his glass, thinking it over. In the structure of British politics, the answer came quickly enough — and he didn't like it."We can't just hand Goa over without a word."
"Of course not," Alan said with an easy smile. "We'd have to explain how we lost it."
John raised an eyebrow. "And how would that go?"
Alan's voice was dry, conspiratorial, as if explaining an inside joke."Stage one: we insist nothing has happened.Stage two: we admit something may have happened — but it's not our concern.Stage three: we concede perhaps we should act — but we can't.Stage four: we admit we might have acted — but it's too late now."
John chuckled. "Do you think people would actually believe that? If so, they're idiots. Though…" He sipped. "The British public has never been quite as clever as we like to think."
Alan's smirk was faint. "Fools are easier to govern, my friend. Otherwise, the Raj would have abolished the caste system decades ago. Instead, we found its… utility — and reinforced it. Even the most seasoned Viceroys are always learning." He took the glass John offered him. "If we can get the Portuguese on our side, even after independence, we'll still have cards to play."
Their glasses clinked softly. A silent toast to shared cynicism. Neither man was under illusions about morality; the alliance between Alan and the Junagadh envoy had been born in that same frank realism.
For the Nizam of Hyderabad, the evening's lavishness was out of character. He lived simply, frugally even. But wealth — his wealth — existed because his throne existed. Principles could bend when survival required it.
Alan found him in the quieter halls of the palace. "Your Highness," he began, "things are going well. And I've just had a most productive talk with our Portuguese guest."
The Nizam's brow furrowed. "If Britain leaves, how can Portugal help me?"
Alan's tone was patient, his smile warm — the way one might coax a wary ally."Portugal is a strongman state. They can act faster than London. If Lisbon reacts immediately, they can buy you — and London — time. Goa's position gives them every reason to help."
History would later show India taking Goa by force. Nehru's confidence after that victory only grew — until he slammed into the Himalayas and learned the limits of post-colonial glory.If Alan could, he'd help the Portuguese hold Goa — not out of love for Lisbon, but to keep it out of Congress Party hands. In fact, he'd prefer to sign a treaty before handing any power over, declaring Goa never part of British India.
But Alan was only a political officer in Hyderabad, not a Governor-General. So instead, he'd planted the idea in Pedro's head, encouraging the Portuguese Governor to make the approach to New Delhi. If the Viceroy's Council discussed it, the first hurdle would be cleared. And when Britain inevitably withdrew, a favor to Portugal would cost nothing.
The Nizam considered it, then murmured, "So the Portuguese will never surrender that port?"
"Exactly. And facing Nehru, Your Highness might find their friendship… useful." Alan's confidence was genuine.
If the Raj couldn't be saved, Alan wanted it to leave a bad example behind — a warning to other colonies still under the Union Jack. The Indian experiment should not look too successful.
As for whether post-independence India tore itself apart, and how many would die in the process?That, Alan thought, was not his problem.By then, he'd be in another department, another post — climbing higher, away from the wreckage.