Authors: Jack Womack
"Leverett's scheduled you in advance?" Malloy asked; I
nodded. "His eminence assumes the moon, doesn't he? He
attempted to draw my hours for me; listed me out before
we'd left Heathrow. Had me plotted like a Taiwan vid. Fruitless, his tries. So long as Dryco and I enjoy correlated moments at wide intervals, I'm content and told him so."
"I'm not optioned," I said, windowgazing; hummingbirds
bombarded flowering ivy enwrapping the nearest pine.
"Tomorrow evening, you are," Malloy said. "The social
graces demand we dine you well. You've that ElCon this eve,
I gather, and of course his coming-out ball the next night.
Would you like a moment's rest now? I can lobby myself, and
haunt the maids."
"I'm appointed to head to the office upon arrival," I said,
headshaking, wondering why I couldn't loose myself of its
new ache.
"Pity. Spending days accomplishing hours isn't our model
for productivity over here. Let's hotfoot it, then. Sooner you
adjust to the air, the better."
"Leverett and E are already there?" I asked, locking the
door after us as we reentered the hall.
"Lying in wait," said Malloy. "Their security, as well. He's
working with Willy. Willy's our beefeater. There's been none
of that goodgoodying here, mind you. This side of the tub's
still beset with footpads and countercults at every turn. Old
world, old ways."
I muted; before leaving I'd ascertained the company Leverett and E would keep, flying over a day earlier. John and I
had talked most evenings since we'd split, awaring each
other of our respective states, neither of us changed; though
we had seemed to calm-he had, in any event, or so I perceived. It didn't surprise when Leverett awared me we'd all
be back together while in England, one family seeking prey.
The heat flattened me again as we streethit; my collar
damped my neck before we moved three meters. Dryco's
London HQ was on Broadwick Street, reachable from the
hotel through a labyrinth of byways. Malloy's black wrap
billowed behind him as we strolled; his shirt and trousers
were black as well, so black as his boots. He wore a string tie,
its strands secured by a gold slide cast in our logo's look.
"You're cool?" I asked, wishing, doglike, to shake my head
dry.
"The gene pool tells all," he said. "My great-grandfather
served in India, wrote one of those books about it after he
cashiered. Regaled all with tales of how marvelous the
weather was. Did nothing whilst he was there but look for the
yeti and assault little boys, my uncle told me. You've been to
London before, Isabel?"
"Fifteen years past," I said. "I came with Madam and
sightsaw while she conferred."
"I was outlanded in Barcelona then," he said, shouting
over motorcycle's roar. A cab came whirling upstreet, and we
paused long enough to fasten ourselves onto a tree-stand as
it passed. Its wind cooled me, if but for a moment.
"Removed here ten years back and found myself sliding up the greasy pole. Didn't know where my hands were leading
me. You've always worked the central office?"
"Always."
"I went to New York once, not long after Madam and OM
exed the Drydens. A cadre of us were sent to see where we
stood under the new management. Two of my mates were
piecemealed in daylight, right on Broadway. Perpetrator
said he didn't like our accents."
"London's changed, too-"
"Weather's had its effect. We've not flooded as you have,
what with the Thames Barrier, but with conditions as they
are it's no longer to daytrip the Med each summer now." We
stepped between three cannon-muzzles set into the slate
pavement; thin lianas spiraled around their lengths after
emerging from their bores. "Statesiders tell me we've successfully blended the worst of New York and LA. Utterly
happenstance."
Two bobbies stood near a bicycle rack, espying us, holding
tight to their lemon-yellow plastic machine pistols. A large
building overhung the street on our left, a thatched medieval hut inflated into twelve times trad size. What appeared,
at first look, as mauve thatch evidenced, on closer inspection, as acrylic fiber. "Cornwall Tourist Council?" I said,
reading its sign.
"A recent improvement," Malloy said. "Historical Accuracy demands, once again. Makes you feel flung headlong
into Shakespeare, doesn't it?"
"Cornwall's still part of England?"
"Can't support themselves on pasties, can they? But each
to their own country, so long as all stay fragmented within
the greater madness. Citrons in a pudding, that's the Euro
way. "
That Europe so perpetually underwent disintegration
while clinging to its shroud of union long troubled Dryco;
seventy-four separate offices and a Continental HQ in Berlin were demanded if thumbs were to be readied all times to plum appropriate pies. Expenses perpetually overran: no
sooner would a restructured Serbian branch open than Voj-
vodvina would redeclare independence; Thum might divorce itself from Taxis, for a week, or a month; Transylvania
would be tossed, ball-like, among Wallachia, Rumania,
Hungary, and Slovakia. I remember Judy being so angered,
sometimes, that she suspected certain nations in which
Dryco opened offices had, in truth, no actual citizenry, but
only an endless series of gauleiters forever lining up to take
their bribes.
"What remains of England, then, within the EC-?" I
asked.
"By my estimation," Malloy said, "England qua England
presently consists of scattered territories betwixt Ealing and
Cockfosters. Everything else's balked. Wales, Yorkshire,
Guernsey, Norfolk, Scotland High and Low, all of them
spinout for a time before closing in long enough again to
rifle the coffers as they need. Levels of inefficiency have been
reached only dreamt of, heretofore. Thank Godness they've
ceased passporting, otherwise we'd never cross a street without having to show need for leaving the empire."
In the midst of the next street over was a marketplace.
Sellers from Asia and Africa hawked knockoff desktops, djel-
lebas with obscene phrases threaded into their patterns,
carved ensembles of frog musicians, brassieres portraited
with the Royal Couple on their cups, neckties jacquarded
with skull designs and other such arcanities. Dozens of camera-necklaced tourists burrowed through the lot seeking the
best of old England. Malloy eyed a rack of frying meat hanging above a glowing cooker.
"There's Tibbles," he said. "Kitty kitty kitty. Here, now.
There's Big D." Dryco's London HQ, a block distant, was a
five-story structure built to resemble a country house, cloaking its true tenants well save for the yellow logo attached to
each chimney. "Used to be cover offices for MI.7, my sources
say," Malloy said. "Odds on, many a plot hatched there by souls fancywarped and dreamwoofed, and not adverse to a
bit of tappage with the smackers if need be. After you, Isabel."
He pushed the door; it remained shut. "Fuck me," he
said, booting its latch, swinging it open. The lobby was no
larger than my office would have been in Judy's suite, had I
been enabled to retake my position. A stairway curved up
and overhead; beneath its broad spiral a dead date palm
stood, flecked round by brown leaves.
"Thought we'd install our own greenery but neglected the
method by which it might be watered," said Malloy. "Lasted
a week before it withered." On our left were two elevators;
both were out of service. "Not to mind. It's first-floored. So
you've been dealing with Boy E direct since snaring him?"
I gripped the smooth bronze rail, hauling myself upward.
"He trusts no one else-"
"With reason, I'm sure," said Malloy. "It's an uncanny
resemblance, and the attitude seems right. The period he's
modeling at present's a bit unexciting, but kitsch as kitsch
can. I figured you'd deck him with the yak's hair quiff and
a pair of great black buggers' grips stuck on his cheeks. The
suit they'd fitted him for's a sight, all the same. I'd think
that'll pass muster."
"He hates it-"
"Understandable," Malloy said, opening heavy French
doors at the second landing; most of the panes were pocked
with bullet holes. "Here we go, then. Dryco East."
Closet-sized enclosures ringed the floor's central open
space; I trailed Malloy as he steered between desks, aiming
for one at the far side of the building. Though I'd readied
myself to see my husband waiting there, he wasn't; one of
their guards secured Leverett and E. The man was twice
John's width, and as tall; his neck's diameter was greater
than that of his head.
"What's buzzed?" Malloy asked. Willy worded in return
with an accent so thick as to disallow understanding.
"Gessa break," he said. "Am no partial to be settin' daylu-
ing.
"Stick to your place, Willy. Where's John, my man?
Where's Leverett's guard?"
"Loo," Willy rumbled. "N'ofally nice bitta crump y'got
there, Mester M."
"Behave. She'll not suffer the prints of Gaels upon her-"
"Spikkin' fuh masel', nae more."
Malloy leaned his head back and lowvoiced me, as if that
could keep Willy from overhearing. "Used to be a tight end
with the Aberdeen Maulers. Banned for life first time season
fatalities topped forty. The coach tossed him to us on a
forward pass and we ran."
Each cubicle's infacing wall was partially glassed; staring
past Willy's head, I saw Leverett and E within. Leverett was
desked, shouting something at a man telecom-imaged. He'd
epauletted his shoulders with phones. E sat in the windowledge, streetgazing, his knees chinresting, his hands shankclasped. Malloy opened the door, knocking as he entered.
"Interrupt," Leverett said, freezing his communicant in
midsentence. "Isabel, at last. You landed four hours ago-"
"Traffic," I said; turned from him to speak to E. "How are
you?"
He eyed me momentslong; redirected his look outward, as
if he were debating whether to throw himself through.
"Good as they tell me, I guess."
Leverett stood, interposing his body between us. "All's
nearly finalized, at last. There's much, still. You slept inflight?"
"I tried." Slept little, actually; sat openeyed for kilometers,
feeling myself so cottonwrapped as the world below me. As
E, during the months past, had come to know clockround
his predecessor's isolation sans the joys and glory which may
have attended, so I, too, had been cut loose, bereft of work,
of friendship, of love, allowed only to devote life and time to
readying one in whom I didn't believe for one I couldn't believe to lull those who, against reason, did believe. I'd
nullified myself at Leverett's demand; while I was walled
away from Judy I was optionless. Now, having had in my
brief inflight separation time apart from the two of them, I
allowed my mind to return to my body, and my soul to
return to itself. Somewhere over the Atlantic I did sleep;
coming to in London as we landed, I reawakened full.
"The hotel satisfies?" Leverett asked; his hands shook, and
he akimboed them against his hips, that none would see.
"Are you lagged? Time essentials-"
"You're so quiet, E," I said. "What's felt?"
"He's fine, fine-"
"Let him tell me, then." E unfolded himself, flooring his
feet. He wore an earthtoned coverall such as a mechanic or
driver might wear. Each week he'd been fortifying himself a
little further, disassociating from all of us, as if every new
assignment or insult simply mortared another brick. "E?"
"I just wanta get to it," he said, staring past me. "See what
it's gonna be. Where've you got me goin' tonight?"
"The annual London ElCon," Leverett said. "You've seen
your schedule-"
"Hell, I don't know if I'm asleep or awake. Haven't since
I got here-"
"I empathize," said Malloy, smiling as he interjected. "It's
a useful confusion, you'll find."
"We arrive incognito at eighteen-hundred, allowing you
to firsthand your followers," said Leverett. "Tomorrow
you'll be prepped for your appearance Sunday night-"
"Isabel's dining with me tomorrow eve, by the way," Malloy said.
"If the schedule permits-"
"You've got her doing nothing but attending, daylong.
She's sparable for an hour or two."
"Possibly," Leverett said; admitting that another might
adjust the timetable he'd drawn for anyone else was something I imagined he was no longer able to do.
"The coming-out's at New Wembley?" I asked, attempting
to recall what I'd been given to memorize.
"Sunday's special, I've been awared," Leverett said.
"Quite special."
"By Act of Parliament, the C of E, England, is allowed to
hold its biennial Elvissey at St. Paul's," Malloy said. "Not in
the church proper, mind you, but on the steps without and
in the facing plaza. First time out they were given access to
the innards but Elvii blackened half the monuments with
their dirty hands. Took months to clean, afterward."
"What's an Elvissey?" I asked, never having heard the
term.
"The eternal search for the home with the King," said
Malloy. "The cry unto heaven that he be dropped back into
their midst, appearing older but wiser, and scaring the dogs
to death. The expression of the wish that he return, to assure
that theirs will be perfect lives hereout. All sects unite on
that night, as though through numbers they can rouse Godness to let loose her minion. Literal power through numbers, like the notion of all the Chinese leaping as one,
knocking the world off axis as they land... ...
"Timing's everything," Leverett said, smiling for the first
time since I'd arrived.
"Security's assured?" I asked. "For him and for us?"
"John will oversee our safety," said Leverett. "Crowd control rests in the capable hands of locals, and Dryco's British
Security forces-"
"Such as Willy?"
"Precisely," said Malloy. "That is, those who aren't among
the worshipers."
"As undercovers?" I asked.
"As believers," said Malloy. "It is counted as a religious
holiday after all, both by the court and by the union. Half of
Security has the day off."