Zero History

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“That’s the plan. But pack now, please.”
“Is this too big?” indicating her roll-aboard.
“Perfect, but keep it light.”
“Is it about something she told you?”
“No,” he said, “it’s because I doubt we have much more time. Pack.”
She set the empty roll-aboard on the nearest armchair, unzipped it, and began to select
things from the drawers in the wardrobe. She added the Hounds designer’s jersey tube.
Went into the bathroom, gathering things from the counter.
“How’s Frank?” she asked, emerging.
“Complaining, but he has to get used to it.”
She noticed the Blue Ant figurine on the bedside table. Picked it up. You’re in, she
thought, surprising herself, and carried it, with bottles and tubes of product, to the rollaboard.
“Won’t you need some sort of follow-up for neural surgery?”
“Woman in Harley Street,” he said, “as soon as I can.”
“How soon is that?”
“When this is over.” A phone began to ring. Yet another variant on Old Phone. Not
hers. He took a phone from his pocket, looked at it. After the third ring he answered.
“Yes? From now? Venue? No? Crucial.” He thumbed a key.
“Who?”
“Big End.”
“What?”
“We’re on. Ninety minutes.”
“What’s crucial?”
“We don’t know where. Venue matters. We need exterior, need privacy. But so do they.
You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Get a pullover. Back of the van’s unheated.” He’d brought out a second phone.
“Message all,” he said, tapping a few tiny keys. The phone beeped.
She glanced around Number Four. The insect-parts wallpaper, the shelves with their
busts and heads. Would she see this again? “Are you taking the scooter?”
“No further than the door,” he said, rising from the bed with the aid of his cane. “It’s
Frank’s turn.” He winced.
She’d just pulled a sweater on. “Are you all right?”
“Actually,” he said, “I am. Be a dear and get the ugly T-shirt from the bedside hutch.
And the other package, the smaller one.”
“What’s that?”
“Almost nothing. And a world of woe, for someone. Quick. There’s a vegan van
waiting for us.”
“What the fuck is up?” demanded Heidi, from the other side of Number Four’s door.