Warren Ellis - Crooked Little Vein

“Who do you need to talk to?”

“Bob Ajax. Guy I knew back in my Chicago days. He moved to San Antonio a few years ago. A little local knowledge might help.”

“You don’t look happy about it.”

“Oh, I like Bob fine. He’s a good guy. What bothers me is who we have to go and see.” I sighed, tried to relax. “Doesn’t matter. Not right now.”

“No. It doesn’t. You stay right here. How long since you last got laid?”

“Well, I remember saying, Mr. Lincoln, when am I going to meet a nice girl?”

“Seriously.”

“Since my girlfriend left me, pretty much. A few years.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

“A few years? I would have died. It would have healed over.”

“If you check the condom, you’ll find a bunch of gray pebbles in the end.”

“Oh, that’s gross.”

“You bring out the best in me. I need a cigarette.”

Cold and sticky, wobbly knees, rooting around in my jacket, something occurred to me. Because I can’t just leave things alone.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why this.”

She coiled around onto her front, feet on the headboard, and considered me. “I think I want to meet your ex. And kill her for whatever she did to your brain.”

“No, really. Was it just because…?”

“Because what? Because your dick was full of brine? Because when I’m horny I just jump into bed with the first available live body?”

“No,” I lied, because when she put it like that I sounded like an asshole, and that couldn’t be right. “I just…You weren’t interested in me like…that.”

She stared. “Oh my God, Mike.”

“What? You came for the thesis and the job. I know that. That was the deal, I’m not pissed or anything.”

Her eyes were like saucers. “You. Are. Such. A. Retard.”

“What did I do now?”

“Mike. I wanted to kiss you the first time you made me laugh. But you’re always so…freaked out. By everything . Mike, you’re a really nice guy who made me laugh and you wanted me to go on an adventure with you. You think that happens to me, you know, ever ? Do you have any idea when anyone last wanted to talk to me for what was in my head ?”

I stood there like an idiot with the cigarettes in my hand, unable to think of anything worth saying.

“I’m not getting through to you, am I?” Trix smiled.

“…um.”

“Okay. Easy-reading version. I wanted to spend time with you and see what happened. I am kind of a big slut, but I don’t give it away for candy bars. I sleep with people I really like. I really like you. I am not here for the money or the thesis. I am here because I really like you, and because you took me on an adventure with you. How’s that?”

“…big slut?”

“Come here.”

I went back to the bed, forgetting the smokes. She reached up, grabbed me by my nipple, and pulled me down.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to continue our trip for as long as it lasts. We are going to learn about each other and be together. We are going to be friends. We will go back to New York and we will still be friends. And we are going to have sex, you know, a lot . Because that’s what I do with my very best friends because it makes us closer and because it is fun. You will agree now.”

“Yes.”

“There. See how easy that was?” She flipped me onto my back and looked at me thoughtfully. “Hm. We may need some ropes.”

“…oh my God.”

“God can’t help you now, Mike. There’s only me here.”

Bob? It’s Mike McGill.”

Bob had acquired a bit of Texas in his accent.

“Mike! Jesus, man, it’s been years! How you been?”

“I followed you out of Chicago. Set up on my own in New York.”

“Good for you, man. Always said you were the smartest guy in the agency. So what’s up?”

“You still in San Antonio?”

He laughed. The laugh had a bit of edge in it. I filed that away, nervously.

“Sure. You need something?”

“Listen, me and my partner need to fly down there today and do some digging. Any chance you could give us some local knowledge?”

“Damn, I’ll pick you up at the airport. Got a flight yet?”

I’d already booked tickets by phone, and gave him the details. That was that, and we hung up.

“Huh,” I said, standing over the phone.

“Problems?” Trix said from the bathroom.

“I don’t know. He didn’t sound right.”

“Define.”

“Nothing ever got to Bob. He was Teflon—everything just slid right off him. Stuff only ever came out when he was drunk. He sounded…not stressed, but edgy. Not like Bob.”

“Been a while since you saw him, though, right? I think I like being your partner, by the way.”

“Well, what the hell else was I going to call you? I couldn’t tell him you were my girlfriend or anything.”

Waited.

“No, you couldn’t,” came her voice.

Shit.

“Friend-with-benefits doesn’t sound too professional, either,” she laughed. Making damn sure I had no idea where things stood.

She tripped out of the bathroom, flames around her eyes. “So what’s the plan, boss?”

“Bob’ll pick us up, we’ll find a hotel, and he’ll give us some background on the next visit.”

“Which is?”

“Ever heard of Roanoke Oil?”

Her face set. “Yes, I have. Serious eco-criminals.”

“I didn’t know that. Well, we’re going to have some fun. Because the thing was bought from our briny friends by the Roanoke family.”

“Oh, wow. That’s interesting. How long ago?”

“Three years, I think.”

“Wow. You know one of the Roanokes tried to take a stab at the presidency last time around?”

A few things went click click click in my head. And, I don’t know, call it an aftereffect of the exfiltration of vintage semen, call it suddenly becoming uncomfortable with only ever having told her part of the story, call it what you fucking like, I don’t care. But I asked her to sit down, and I told her what the book really was. Told her what I’d been told it was and what it was for.

After a while, she blew out a breath and said, “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit .”

“You said that.”

“What do you think he wants it back for?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a magic book. I think it’s a little bit of history that he wants safely swept under his own carpet, rather than floating around out in the world.”

Trix stood up. Sat down again. Thought for a moment. Stood up. “Can I have one of your cigarettes?”

I handed her the pack and the lighter. There was memory in her fingers as she lit up. I felt bad for bringing on a relapse. She sucked the smoke down, and coughed it back out in big blue puffs. “What the fuck are these?”

“They’re organic.”

She looked at the pack. “You smoke cigarettes called ‘American Ghost’? Jesus, Mike. Organic what ? Dead bodies?”

“Feeling better?”

“No!”

“Oh.”

She stabbed the cigarette to death in the ashtray. “Mike, I’m working for the White House.”

“It’s an adventure .”

“It’s the government .”

“It’s their money we’re spending. It’s their money I’m giving you. They are paying for our adventure because, well, they’re nuts and they think there’s a magic book on the loose in America. It’s not a magic book. It’s a faintly embarrassing antique that they are handing over stupid amounts of money for me to attempt to return to them. That said—”

Trix found my eyes. “—that said , one of the Roanokes tried to take a stab at the presidency last time around.”