Zero History

“Had to come down on a freeway. Four in the morning, there was a vintage Lotus Elan
—”
Hollis started sobbing. She was sitting on the bed now, but didn’t know how she’d
gotten there.
“He’s okay! Well, he’s alive, okay? My boy says he must’ve been super well connected,
because the ambulance that picked him up put him straight on an air ambulance, a jet,
into a high-end trauma center in Singapore. Where you go, there, if you need shit-hot
medical attention.”
“He’s alive? Alive?”
“Fuck yes. I told you already. Leg’s messed up. I know he was in Singapore, six weeks,
then it gets fuzzy. Some people say he went to the States from there, to get stuff done they
couldn’t do in Singapore. Military doctors. You said he wasn’t military.”
“Connected. The old man …”
“Story is, that air ambulance had some kind of local royal crest.”
“Where is he?”
“These boys at my gym, they’re ex-military. Maybe ex-. Fuzzy. Doesn’t matter how
much they drink, the story just trails off, at a certain point. Runs up against some prime
directive. They know who he is, but from the jumping. They’re big fans of that. Also
because he’s English. Tribal thing. That secret-life shit you told me about, I don’t think
they’d get that. Or maybe they would. They’re all batshit in their own way.”
Hollis was wiping her face, mechanically, with a towel smeared with makeup. “He’s
alive. Say he’s alive.”
“They think he went into some funny arrangement, Stateside, where they work on
messed-up Delta Force guys, like that. That impresses them deeply. Then they order
another round, talk football, and I fall asleep.”
“That’s all you’ve been able to find out?”
“All? I’ve done everything short of trying to fuck it out of them, and I wouldn’t say
they’d made it exceptionally easy not to do that either. You were the one told me to leave
the civilians alone, weren’t you?”
“Sorry, Heidi.”
“It’s okay. They never ran into anybody thought they were civilians before. Kind of
worth it. You know how to get in touch with him?”
“Maybe.”
“Now you’ve got an excuse. Gotta go. They want me to throw darts. They bet. Take
care of yourself. You back tomorrow? We’ll have dinner.”
“You’re sure he’s alive?”
“I think these guys would know, if he wasn’t. He’s like a football player to them.
They’d hear. Where are you?”
“At the hotel.”
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow.”