Zero History

adly. Excuses for our behavior. Impossibility of getting decent help these days. But
here’s Milgrim, so we’ll take Chombo, thank you, and sorry again for the trouble. Or if
Gracie should fuck up, for that matter …” The Taser swept down slowly, over the
keyboard, in a silent strafing run.
“Fuck up how?”
“My little op’s bodged together with off-the-shelf parts. Basically I’ve had to build it as
though Gracie’s going to play nice, do the prisoner exchange, then take Milgrim off for a
nice waterboarding or toe-subtraction—”
“Don’t say that!”
“Sorry. But that would be playing by the rules as far as Big End is concerned. We know
that nobody’s getting Milgrim, but Gracie doesn’t, yet. If things go according to my play,
Gracie and company will have sufficient weight on them to not bother anyone. But if
Gracie should decide not to play by the rules, I haven’t much in the way of extra fun to
throw at him.” He held the Taser up again, squinted. “Wish she’d brought a few more,
actually.”