Zero History

he’s sleeping with Hollis. I mean, there’s only the one bed there.” Which made him think
of the foam, and Fiona.
“What does he look like?”
“Thirties? Brown hair.”
“That’s you. Try harder.”
“British. And like a cop. But not. Military? But not exactly. Athletic? But he’s been in an
accident.”
“What kind?”
“He jumped off the tallest building in the world. Then a car ran over him.”
Silence. “This is why it’s good we’ve had face time,” she said.
“Hollis told me. One of his legs doesn’t work very well. He has a cane. And one of
those electric scooter things.”
“We need more face time. Now.”
Milgrim looked at the phone, seeing, superimposed on it, the government seal on her
card. “When?”
“I just told you.”
“I’ll have to ask Fiona.”
“Do that,” she said, and hung up. He put the iPhone on the edge of the sink and
finished dressing.
He emerged with the phone in one hand, his shoes and socks in the other.
Fiona was seated at the table, back in her armored pants and Rudge T-shirt, toweling
her hair with the bathrobe. “Who was that?” she asked, lowering the bathrobe, hair
sticking out in every direction.
“Winnie.”
“American.”
“Yes,” said Milgrim. He sat down and began to put on his socks and shoes.
“I couldn’t help overhearing,” Fiona said.
Milgrim looked up.
“What is it that you have to ask me?”
“Hold on.” Milgrim finished tying his shoes. He pulled his bag toward him, across the
table, opened it, dug through it, found Winnie’s card. He handed it to Fiona.
She read it. Frowned. “The Department of Defense?”
“Dee-sis,” said Milgrim, nodding, then spelled out the acronym.
“Never heard of it.”
“She says almost nobody has.”
“Bigend know about this?”
“Yes. Well, not about that call. Or the previous one.”
Fiona put the card down on the table, looked at him. “Are you?”
“What?”
“Dee-sis.”