Elvissey (38 page)

"Quite a row you had last night, then?" he asked; I nodded, applying an additional glaze on my own art. "Content
yourself tonight, then. Something you'll always get in England is good food."

A nearby mural, blocked along its low end by other diners'
heads, was cloaked at topside and throughout its length by
hanging tapestries bearing multihue designs so intricate as
to appear woven by schizophrenics. The illustration visible
depicted a cat pulling a gigantic root from the earth; a dog
stood in back of the cat, encircling its waist with his paws,
and several children as well were linked behind the dog.
Hundreds of long swords and knives hung from the ceiling,
aimed toward every guest. On the wall nearest the kitchen
were ill-drawn portraits of a Black Virgin, the late Ayatollah,
and the King of This World, his silver jumpsuit appearing
him as most resplendent of all. "What kind of restaurant is
this?" I asked.

"Irani-Polish," said Malloy. "Multicult at its most suspect,
but highly recommended by those who should know, unless
they've been funning me. Let's scan the offerings."

With nimble fingers he entered our greeting into the
table's inbuilt keyboard; the menu onscreened, scrolling out
appetizers and entrees. Each dish was listed with trilingual
descriptives, seemingly arrived at through sequential translation, beginning with Farsi, progressing to Polish, at last
stumbling into English.

"Grotty Fowl in Grease," Malloy said, reading. "Boiled
Head in Glass. Various Slice of Typical Meat. Spinach
Testes. Crab Legs of Lamb. Dear, this isn't promising-"

"My appetite's still lagging," I said.

"Mm. Mine just crossed the dateline."

Our blond, turbaned waiter returned, placing a bowl of
carrot jam and bottle of chicken fat on our table between the
electric candles. "What's wanted, people?"

"Let's gamble, shall we?" said Malloy. "Bring us tonight's
specials, and a bottle of house red."

"Excellent choice," said the waiter, appearing grateful for
not having to enter our order. As he raced kitchenways I felt
a headtwinge, which passed so soon as it knifed. Though I
tried not to evidence distress my face must have shown more
than I intended.

"Something hurting you, Isabel?"

"Headache," I said.

"I've aspirin," he said, reaching into one of his long coat's
pockets.

"It doesn't relieve," I said. "It's gone now. I was treated a
couple of months ago, and ever since-"

"Treated for what?" Malloy asked. "Were you cancered,
then?"

I nodded. "All gone now, the doctors tell me-"

"American doctors?" he asked, shuddering as if he
chilled. "Saw a documentary on them not long ago. Suggesting England could learn something. Depends on what's
being taught, in my opinion. See someone else while you're
here, and be assured of what they're telling you."

"I didn't think your healthing was any better than ours."

"Oh, for the public it's worse," said Malloy. "But I've a
Harley chopper. Call him in the morning and go to his
office."

"You mean go tomorrow?"

"Here's his number." Malloy handed me a card upon
which he'd scrawled his doctor's listing. "Tell him I told him
to see you. He'll not fuss, he's a tradesman like any other."

"Thank you," I said, slipping the card into my bag, shoving aside my compact in order to find my addresser.

"That'll provide you with reason enough to keep from
rushing back to the epicenter, as well."

"What happened today?" I asked. "How was it?"

"Appalling," Malloy said. An explosion outside rattled
the room's curtained windows. "How's one so discom bobulated as Leverett kept his position? Do only psychopaths reach the top in America? He's driving us mad."

"I'm unsurprised-" I said.

"He sends out orders and rescinds them ten minutes
later," said Malloy, "then he starts bellowing about the
schedule being derailed. Trying to accomplish one thing, he
disrupts three others. Boy E's got the bloody flux, Leverett's
coming over to him every five minutes to remind him of
something else he needs to do or say tomorrow night, each
more important than the one previously told. When I tele-
commed in with Madam in New York to aware her of this
behavior she refused to even hear me out."

"Leverett's written his own program, and she desires that
he follow it through-"

"The more nervejangled he gets, the faster he goes, the
less he gets done. You can't even understand him once he
starts letting loose with the bizspeak, he starts shouting
across rooms into phones that aren't there, twirls dervishlike
from desk to desk. From afar he layered this project with a
fine patina of workability. After seeing him in action I don't
see why he wasn't given the hook some time ago."

"Interoffice politics," I said. "He eked his way into Mister
O'Malley's good graces in order to underway the project.
That's another reason why Madam refuses to interfere-"

"It's as well this'll be done over here after tomorrow
night," Malloy said. "We'd all be heaving ourselves out windows if it all went on much longer. Ah, here we go." Our
waiter returned, and placed our food before us; shook our
wine vigorously before unscrewing the bottlecap. "That
should detonate quite nicely, I'd think."

"The lovebirds' hearty treat," the waiter said, smiling as
he filled our glasses. We stared at what he'd left us. An
oversized slab sprinkled with orange-colored strips and oozing a glutinous sauce blanketed Malloy's plate. Seven sodden pirogi lay on mine, ringed round by sliced tomatoes so
unripe as to resemble bleached wood. Malloy moued his lips; cut off a corner of his slab and chewed it cautiously, as
if fearful it might blow up in his mouth. He worked it for a
while, appearing not to have so much difficulty in rending
the lump as he did in swallowing it. Picking up my knife and
fork I clipped dough from one of my pirogi; a pale glazed
ball evidenced within.

"Eye for an eye, I'd hazard," said Malloy. Closing my own
I tabled my utensils, and pushed away my plate. He sipped
his glass of wine.

"A good year?" I asked.

"For sugared vinegar, yes," he said, mouthwashing with
water. "I'm terribly sorry about this, Isabel-"

"I'm appetiteless, as told. Drop concern." Malloy must
have hungered unto starvation's point, and so he continued
to eat. "How does E strike you? As regards what's intended-"

"Boozbambled," Malloy said. "Dazed and confused. It's
to be expected, isn't it? Pardon, Isabel, one moment." He
circled round in his seat as our dishladen waiter dashed by.
"Excuse me." The waiter paused; his smile reappeared, as if
he'd plugged it back in. "What am I eating?"

"Piece a cod."

"Which passeth all understanding." Malloy laid his napkin across the remains. "Let's air it awhile and see if that
helps. Where am I, what was being said? Oh, right. I
shouldn't depend heavily on Boy E's upswing if I were you.
I'm doubtful he can carry the load, whatever his similarities
to the original. All this double world business appalls me,
mind you. I've never been much for science."

"It's an awful place, over there-"

"Undoubted. The notion that every buffoon I've ever encountered will be wandering about mucking up over there
as well, years from now . . ." He paused. "It's a dumbfounder, to be sure."

"He wants to go back," I said. "I told him I'd do what I
could after tomorrow night-"

"Send him back tonight if you can," said Malloy. "Nip the
bud before it blossoms. If it's doable, do it. Would that I had
the say here, I'd have canceled tomorrow yesterday."

"Why? Not that I disagree, but-"

"Your own reasons would suffice, I'm sure," he said.
"There's no more plan to this than a Japanese city. Take
crowd control, if you will. Something of a misnomer during
an Elvissey, don't you know. Thirty thousand are expected to
show tomorrow night, streetswarming round the cathedral
from Moorgate to Farringdon and halfway up to the Barbican. Now, those Elvies last night were rousers but the ones
tomorrow'11 be the true believers, sure, and here our security's down two-thirds. Leverett's deeply taken by the municipal force but they'll skedaddle first time they're sneezed at,
it's unfailing. Second trouble shows they'll shove their little
yellow poppers in their tunics and zippo. Something else
now: has the boy ever been out in public before? I don't
mean performance, I mean has he been out at all?"

"Very little," I said. "In New York he's been housed all the
time. He was prepped while interiored, Leverett wanted him
fresh-"

"He's like an unshelled crab," Malloy said. "The slightest
noise racks him. Coconut dropped on a car outside the
office this afternoon, set off the alarm. He pitched an impressive fit, believe me."

"Are you inputted on this environad I gather Leverett's
arranging?"

Malloy shook his head. "Not in my contract to hear. He's
full tilt on it, I'm sure. He's got new weather charts onscreening every hour-"

"If it's anything largescale there's likelihood it won't take
as desired-"

"The whole's as doubtful as the parts," Malloy said. "He's
in a dreamworld, isn't he? Convinced himself they'll all hail
and wail once they know Dryco's backing this. Mad, absolutely mad. The Elvies never gave, even when the company could have stood to read 'em their redundancy report.
That'll never happen now. We've known this for years, mind
you, there's only so long a time you can keep the lid on
unteachables. He ought to be grateful it's all gone well as
long as it has."

The restaurant doors swung open, smashing against the
maitre d's desk; a man aflame threw himself in, falling
floorways. He looked to have been tardipped; his smoke
grayed the room as he burned through the rug. Two waiters
and one of the chefs set upon him with extinguishers, lathering him until he was doused. It possibled that our fellow
diners were too stunned to react, but I doubted it; they, and
the nonparticipatory waiters, continued about their business
as if nothing untoward onwent. As the maitre d' stepped
forward to oversee the man's removal, a fellow at a table
nearby lifted his hand, signaling. "Dessert menu?" he asked.

"Seems like our cue," Malloy said. "This was a pointless
exercise, all told."

"Not so," I said.

"Good to get out, true." He threw a sheaf of edies on the
table as payment, stood and assisted me in rising. "You'll
need an escort back, as seen. They'll be laying in all over out
there by now."

"It'll be like this outside-?" I asked, holding my mouth
open so as to lessen the odor.

"Livelier," Malloy said, holding open the soot-blackened
door. "Never fear." We exited into Charing Cross and bore
north toward Oxford as a flameflower burst from the corner's window, spraying glass, sending celebrants sailing.
"They get Foyles every year," he said, his face ruddied with
fire's reflectives. "No night like the Guy's night."

Singsong sirens echoed off the buildings as firecars shot
by; one undertook its uplift as it leveled with us, and we had
but seconds to doorway ourselves to avoid being tossed in its
wake. In the street's midst was an overturned bus, burning
freely as crowds highstepped round its blaze, adding their crackers to the sparks it threw. Three young girls armed with
newsprint torches chased another, laughing and shouting. A
liqrystal advertiser attached to a kindled shopfront close by
continued rolling its list: Cadbury's Is Good Chocolate/ Travel
the Underground /French Lessons With Strict Teacher Voicebox
432A6. Many of the street's palms had been lit at topside,
appearing the road as a tunnel lined with carnival flambeaux.

"Every year this happens?" I asked as we set out once
more. Malloy nodded.

"Got to get it out of them somehow," he said. "This
generally does the trick." Another structure, across the way
in Denmark Street, flared and blew. Those evidently responsible scattered through the smoke. "Let's take a secondary,
avoid the main action," he said, lefting us down a narrow
passage. "Don't rattle so," he said, taking my arm. "I'll
guide. This'll lead us back to Soho Square, and then around
to your hotel."

"What'll you do, after-?" I asked.

"Wend my way homeward," he said. "Stop off for a quick
one, maybe, I do hate to eat on an empty stomach. Look
there, would you. They've got one wickered."

As we emerged into the square's encompassing lanes I saw
what was meant. A straw construction in mannequin's form
was centered near the small park's statue; within its conflagrated rushes a wraith screamed. Those encircling matched
the screams in volume, if not intensity. Onlookers watched
from windows above, their faces yellowed in the glow.

"The Elvii participate in this?" I asked.

"These are normal Londoners, all," he said. "Scattered
tourists as well come annually to escapade, as in Pamplona.
But those who follow the King look upon all this as nothing
more than secular exhibitionism, and therefore unworthy of
energy better directed toward their beloved."

"It's ..." London had changed so since I was here last, or
else I saw it now as I'd not before. When I'd worked with Judy I'd traveled worldwide with her, on occasion, seeing Dryco's
cities, or the cities Dryco once held; never before had I been
to a place so reminiscent of what New York once had been,
and surely would have been still, had it not been regooded.
"I'm wordless."

"Contenting them's one thing," Malloy said. "Controlling, another. The former better serves all in time. Just as
well, likely. If Americans had longer attention spans, who
knows the follies they could have wrought."

We rounded the corner, coming to Hazlitt's. John's light
was out; it was the sort of evening he should find it pleasant
to roam, I thought. "Thank you-" I told Malloy.

"Think nothing of it-"

"For everything, I mean," I said; smoke rising from the
park, and from the nearby streets, rawed my nostrils. "Dealing with Leverett. Awaying me, if for the evening. You've
been very kind to me."