Down in the Zero

'You're not going back for a while,' I told her. 'I want you to write a note, leave it for Charm.'

'Where?'

'At her house. I'll drive you over.'

'I can't do that.'

'Fancy…'

'Burke, I can't. It would make her suspicious. I never go in her house. I'm not allowed.'

'Okay, I get it. We'll leave it in your place. She'll see it when she comes snooping around.'

I rehearsed in my head, running it through, smoothing out the edges. When it got too loaded, I took a break, looked through the list of numbers I'd copied off the fax machine in Cherry's office at Rector's. Something…

'Fancy, is there a phone book around here?'

'I don't know— I'll look.'

She came back with two of them— yellow and white. I pored through the white pages until I found it: 'International Country and City Codes.'

011 was the international access code. Okay, next step: 61 was the country code. For Australia. So 011–61–2 was Sydney. 011–61–3 was Melbourne. They were all Australia, all Sydney and Melbourne except for one in Perth.

Australia. I checked the International Time Zone chart in the phone book. Sydney was fifteen hours ahead of us. Six in the afternoon on Tuesday would be nine in the morning on Wednesday over there. Fifteen hours…

If you showed fifteen hours ahead on a dial clock, it would look like three hours. One full spin, twelve, plus three more for fifteen.

Did Cherry have a passport? Dual citizenship? Another identity?

And that clock, that special clock. Twin clocks, one in Barrymore's office.

It was late when I heard the crunch of tires on the bluestone. Charm's white Rolls, sitting in the driveway, pointing the wrong way, like she'd driven in the exit. I watched for a minute— she didn't get out. I couldn't see her face behind the driver's–side glass. Fancy stood next to me. I could feel her breath against my cheek.

'Too late for that note,' I said.

'I'll fix it,' she replied, yanking her dress over her head, stripping frantically. Nude, she ran into the back room. She was back in a second, hopping on one leg as she fitted a pair of spike heels onto her feet. 'I'll be right back,' she said, and went out of the door before I could stop her.

I watched as Fancy negotiated the stairs, as she walked over to the Rolls, stepping carefully in the spike heels on the loose stones. The driver's window slid down. Fancy bent at the waist, her face inside the window, her naked backside white sculpture in the night.

It didn't take long. The Rolls pulled off slowly. Fancy stood there watching it for a minute, then she turned and climbed back up the stairs.

'What was that all about?'

'I told her I was being punished. That you made me go outside like that.'

'What did she say?'

'She asked if I turned you out yet.'

'Huh?'

'Turned you out…into the scene. I told her you were my master…I wasn't going to be doing anything without your permission now.'

'Why was she coming around?'

'She said she was worried about me. What a joke. When I told her…about you…she was happy, I could tell. She kissed me. Deep, like a lover. She hasn't done that in a long time.'

'You really handled that perfectly, girl. How'd you know it would work?'

'I just…knew. It worked on me too. I was all…embarrassed. And excited too. Charm said she could smell it on me. Can you smell it, Burke?'

'Come over here and I'll tell you.'

I waited two more tight days, perfecting the pitch. Then I made the call.

'Dr. Barrymore please.'

'Who may I tell him is calling?'

'Mr. Burke.'

'Hold please.'

'Mr. Burke, this is Lydia, Dr. Barrymore's personal assistant. You may remember we met the last time you were here…

'Sure.' The woman with the improbably seamed stockings and the controlled walk.

'I'm so sorry, but Dr. Barrymore really has quite a full schedule. He said to give you his regrets, but it may be some time before— '