Zero History

okay?” she’d asked, giving his shoulders a squeeze.
“Always a bit of a letdown,” he’d said, but then had perked up a few minutes later, the
van under way. Someone on his headphone. “How many?” he’d asked. Then smiled.
“Eleven unmarked vehicles,” he’d said to her, a moment later, quietly. “Body armor,
Austrian automatic weapons, a few in hazmat suits. Heavy mob.”
She’d been about to ask what he meant, but he’d silenced her with a look and another
smile. She’d handed him the Waitrose bag then. When he opened it, she’d glimpsed one
huge horrid eye of the world’s ugliest T-shirt.
“What was that about a plane without wings?” he asked now, lowering Frank, the
sequence completed.
“Milgrim’s on board something Bigend’s built, or restored. He said it was Russian.”
“Ekranoplan,” said Garreth. “A ground-effect vehicle. He’s mad.”
“He’s had Hermès do the interior, Milgrim says.”
“Dead posh, too.”
“What kind of police came, for Foley and the others?”
“A very heavy mob. Aren’t on the books. Old man knows a bit about them, says less
than he knows.”
“You called them when you sent us outside?”
“Dropped the dime, yes. Milgrim’s American agent called me again when I was waiting
for you in the van, behind Cabinet. Gave me a number and a code word. She hadn’t had
them when she’d called before. Offered me numbers I already had. I asked her for
something massive. She came through too. Massively. I used them, gave the make, color,
and registration number. Bang.”
“Why did she do that?”
“Because she’s a bad-ass, according to Milgrim.” He smiled. “And, I’d guess, because it
couldn’t be traced back to her, her agency, her government.”
“Where would she have gotten it?”
“No idea. Phoned a friend in Washington? But then, I never cease to be amazed at how
the oddest things float about.”
“And they arrested Gracie and the others?”
He sat up, doubled the yellow bungee in front of his chest, and slowly pulled his fists
apart. “A special kind of detention.”
“Nothing in the news.”
“Nothing,” he agreed, still stretching.
“Pep put something in their car. Then locked it up again.”
“Yes.” The bungee at full extension now, quivering.
“The other party favor.”
He relaxed, the yellow elastic drawing his fists together. “Yes.”
“What was in it?”
“Molecules. The sort you don’t want a bomb-sniffer to find. They were sampled from a