Zero History

59. THE ART OF THE THING
After a mutual exchange of various telephone numbers, both written down and entered
in phones, Bigend left.
Garreth had also insisted on establishing codes, by which either could indicate that he
was speaking under duress, or that he believed the conversation was being somehow
surveilled. Hollis, discovering that she was actually very hungry, took advantage of this to
catch up on her breakfast. Garreth began to write in his notebook, in what was either
shorthand or his impossible handwriting, she’d never been sure.
“Do you really think he’d honor that agreement, if you were able to do whatever it is
you intend to do?” she asked as he capped his pen.
“Initially. I imagine he’d then manage to start to see that he’d really made a different
agreement, and that any subsequent misunderstanding is ours alone. But then it would
become a matter of reminding him, and at the same time reminding him exactly how his
little difficulty had been tidied. Quite a lot of this, and why it needs to be very good
indeed, is the need to impress Bigend with the idea that he wouldn’t want anything like it
to ever happen to him. Without ever uttering anything like a threat, mind you, for which
reason I would hope that you’d put your man at the Guardian back in the box. If he’s the
one I think you mean, he makes me want to believe that global warming isn’t androgenic,
just to spite him.”
“Where’s your eccentric mentor in this?”
“He’ll be in the background, if he’s to be involved at all, and I’m glad of it. He was
happier during the previous administration in the United States. Easier to be around.”
“He was?”
“Less free-floating ambiguity then. I’ll need his permission to use the material we
prepared for that other exploit. But Gracie seems a perfect match for his targeting
mechanism, as he has a peculiar detestation for war profiteers. Who are certainly no less
abundant now than they used to be, though generally a bit less flagrant. I’ll also need him
to hook me up with Charlie. Sweet old boy in Birmingham. Gurkha.”
“Gurkha?”
“Perfect dear. Love him to bits.”
“Fuck me, it’s the prodigal skydiver.”
Hollis swung around at Heidi’s voice, and found her there, in the gap between the
screens, Ajay peering around her shoulder.
“What’s this?” Heidi pushed at the mahogany frame of one of the screens, causing the
whole thing to wobble alarmingly. “Planning on having it off right here?”
Garreth smiled. “Hello, Heidi.”
“Heard you were well and truly fucked,” said Heidi. She was wearing gray sweats,