Zero History

42. ELVIS, GRACELAND
Winnie Tung Whitaker was wearing a pale blue iteration of the sweatshirt with the South
Carolina state flag monogram. Milgrim imagined her buying the full color-range at some
outlet mall, off the highway to Edge City Family Restaurant. The blue made her look
more like a young mother, which she evidently was, than a bad-ass, which she’d just told
him she was. He really didn’t doubt that she was either. The bad-ass part was currently
expressed by a pair of really impressively ugly wraparound sunglasses with matte alloy
frames, worn pushed up over her smooth black hair, though more so by something about
the look in her eyes. “How did you know about this place?” asked Milgrim. Their starters
had just arrived, in a small Vietnamese café.
“Google,” she said. “You don’t believe I’m a bad-ass?”
“I do,” said Milgrim, rattled. He hurriedly tried his chili squid.
“How is it?”
“Good,” said Milgrim.
“You want a dumpling?”
“No, thanks.”
“They’re great. Had them when I was here before.”
“You were here before?”
“I’m staying near here. Called Kentish Town.”
“The hotel?”
“The neighborhood. I’m staying with a retired detective. Scotland Yard. Seriously.” She
grinned. “There’s a club, the International Police Association. Hooks us up with lodging
in members’ homes. Saves money.”
“Nice,” said Milgrim.
“He has doilies.” She smiled. “Lace. They kind of scare me. And I’m a clean-freak
myself. Otherwise, I couldn’t afford to be here.”
Milgrim blinked. “You couldn’t?”
“We’re not a big agency. I’m covered for a hundred and thirty-six dollars per day,
meals and incidentals. More for a hotel, but here, not really enough. This is the most
expensive place I’ve ever seen.”
“But you’re a special agent.”
“Not that kind of special. And I’ve already got pressure going on, from my boss.”
“You do?”
“He doesn’t see the cooperation via the legate and the Brits going anywhere. And he’s
right, it isn’t. He isn’t crazy about me running around London on per diem, conducting
investigations outside U.S. territory, without the proper coordination. He wants me back.”
“You’re leaving?”